Charles trudged down the stairs, shoulders slumped.
As soon as he stepped into the hallway, the scrawny man greeted him with a death glare.
He didn't say a word this time, just pointed at the dirty wall with a sharp gesture and tossed the damp rag at him.
Charles caught it mid-air and, without a word, got to work.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of effort and sweat. He scrubbed walls, hauled buckets of filthy water, and cleaned the dirt- and stone-strewn floor.
The man didn't help much, just barked orders and griped every time Charles missed a spot.
By the time they finished, the sun was high, and Charles's arms ached.
He was exhausted, but at least they'd gotten through most of it.
It was lunchtime. Charles followed the scrawny man, who was striding quickly toward a wider hallway.
He had no clue where they were headed, but figured sticking close might lead to food and a moment to rest.
They reached the entrance to a rustic dining hall, with long wooden tables and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air.
Charles's stomach growled, but before he could step inside, a hand stopped him cold.
"What do you think you're doing, Rian?" said a burly man blocking the entrance. He had a scruffy beard and a grease-stained gray tunic. His eyes scanned Charles with contempt.
Charles blinked, confused, and pointed at the scrawny man already entering the hall.
"I came with him. I've been working all morning."
The man let out a deep, mocking laugh.
"Working? You?" He leaned in, his breath reeking of stale beer. "Did you forget your place, trash? The clan leader banned you from the dining hall until everyone else is done eating. Direct order. So get lost."
Charles frowned.
"So where am I supposed to go?" he asked, trying to stay calm.
The man shrugged with a smug grin.
"That's your problem, not mine. Beat it."
Charles gritted his teeth but said nothing more. He turned and walked away, hunger gnawing at his gut.
'What kind of place is this where everyone's such a jerk…?' he thought.
As he wandered, Charles considered sneaking back to the arena to catch a fight and learn more about this world.
But Lira and Kain's words flashed through his mind.
'Crap,' he thought, letting out a sigh.
He wasn't ready to risk another run-in with them—not yet.
Instead, Charles veered into a side hallway and found a small enclosed courtyard. In the center stood a simple fountain, water trickling from a carved stone.
It was odd to see something so serene in such a rough, dusty place, but at least he was alone.
Charles approached the fountain and caught his reflection in the water. His hair was short and black, like Lira and Kain's, and his eyes were a striking blue.
It was the first time he'd seen Rian Cole's face. In the game's boss fight, Rian's appearance was too ragged to make out clearly.
With no one around, Charles decided to test something. Dropping to the ground, he started doing push-ups.
One, two, five, ten… he hit twenty and barely felt tired, despite working all morning.
Charles grinned to himself.
"Not bad," he muttered.
In real life, he'd be lucky to hit ten before collapsing.
Feeling bold, he tried variations. Diamond push-ups, hands forming a triangle. Then one-armed push-ups, balancing on one leg.
To his surprise, Rian's body handled it effortlessly.
His muscles tensed, but there was no panting or shaking.
"This guy's in shape!" he exclaimed under his breath, chuckling. "Maybe I should try…"
Charles flipped into a handstand, bracing his feet against a nearby wall by the fountain, and started doing handstand push-ups.
One, two, three… he was about to hit five when voices interrupted.
"Rian Cole!"
Charles dropped his feet to the ground and turned, still grinning. Two guys were approaching, both wearing tunics like Lira and Kain's, with blue trim signaling some kind of status.
They had brown hair and dark eyes, their faces twisted with anger.
Charles sighed.
"What do you want?" he asked, standing and dusting off his hands. He wasn't in the mood for more lectures.
The taller guy, with a scar on his cheek, stepped forward.
"How dare you talk to us like that, trash?" he said, his voice quivering with outrage. "What, you don't bow your head anymore? Who do you think you are?"
The shorter one, just as furious, nodded.
"We warned you before, Rian. This area's ours. You can't train here with your stupid push-ups. Get out!"
Charles let out a long, weary sigh.
"Fine, I'm going," he said, raising his hands in surrender.
He took a step to leave, but the tall guy stopped him, slamming a hand against his chest to push him back.
This time, Charles reacted. He planted his back foot firmly and didn't budge an inch.
The guy frowned, clearly surprised.
"What? You gonna fight back?" he asked, his voice rising.
The shorter guy stepped closer, fists clenched.
"You've always been a cocky little punk, Rian. Guess we'll have to teach you another lesson."
Charles gritted his teeth.
Their hostile attitude was getting old, but he noticed something else.
His heart was beating faster—not from fear, but from something different.
A strange energy was coursing through his body.
Charles felt a kind of static building at his fingertips.
It was weird but not unpleasant.
For a moment, his mind went foggy. A memory that wasn't his flashed up.
Rian, in this same courtyard, getting pummeled by these two guys. Fists to the stomach, kicks to the legs, while he only raised his arms to shield himself.
Rian never fought back.
Charles blinked, confused.
'Why didn't Rian fight?' he thought.
These guys didn't seem that tough or have the intimidating aura of Lira or Kain.
They were… just common bullies.
The static in Charles's fingers grew, and his body felt ready to act.
Should he fight as Charles? Or back down like Rian?