The entrance on the ground floor opened, and a mortal with blonde hair and a bare upper body walked in.

"Greetings, Sir Victor!" the guards shouted in unison the moment they laid their eyes on that human.

"So he is the reason behind all the atrocities in this city," Jambavan murmured, staring at him.

"What are you looking at, slaves?" a guard muttered, giving us side-eyes. "You are in the presence of your master. On your knees, this instant!"

"This inferior thing dares order me to kneel?" I growled, staring down at him. "Are you tired of living?"

"Jus' ignore him," Jambavan said, moving closer to that tiny mortal who barely reached Jambavan's stomach. "It's not like he's gonna survive the night."

Sweat poured down the guard's body as his skin turned pale from just our casual words.

"H-how dare mere slaves threaten me!" he blurted. "I-I'm only letting you go because of the festival."

Still trembling, he took hasty steps and reached the diametrically opposite position from us to keep the maximum distance.

"Hmph, pathetic insect."

Meanwhile, Victor — who was walking down the ramp between the entrance and the cage with measured and firm steps — reached the stage and raised his hand, turning the whole crowd silent.

"My name is Victor Kale, a.k.a. the leader of the Forlorn City mines. I don't think I need to explain why we have gathered here, but still, I will do the honour and give a small history lesson to all the new guards and slaves who recently joined us.

"Ten years ago, on this day, an unending deposit of low-tier Soul Stones was discovered below Forlorn City. And since that day, there hasn't been a single month when I didn't make a profit."

He raised his arms and exclaimed with a laugh, "Thanks to the blood and sweat I poured in, I even made brands like The Tux Shop open their business here. It was all because of me that Forlorn City is not that far behind the cities of the Mainland. However..."

He joined his hands; his face turned serious as he spoke further. "Even though my head reached the sky, I never let my feet leave the ground.

"I decided to dedicate the founding day of the Soul Stone reservoirs to the Gods by offering the blood of a sinister Awakener and named this festival the Rite of Red Harvest.

"Each year on this festival, I killed a sinner to make the world a better place for all of us."

"Thanks for your heroism, Lord Victor," one of the guards exclaimed.

"Lord Victor is a true hero," another added.

"Long live Lord Victor!"

"Long live Lord Victor!"

.

.

.

"Hah, what a bunch of narcissists," I scoffed, folding my arms.

After a moment, about a dozen people carrying three huge drums entered the ground floor and placed the drums around the cage.

"Bring in the Sacrifice!" Victor commanded in a loud voice.

The gate on the other side of the arena opened, and three mortals came in. The left one wore indecent attire and carried a double-edged axe in his hand, while the one on the right — with a whip in his hand — wore the clothes of this era similar to what Raj was wearing when I met him in the inn.

At the centre, another mortal walked, dragging his chained feet on the ground in a miserable state.

His face was covered in a black cloth, and his neck along with his limbs were bound with heavy metallic chains that were connected to a large iron ball at the end.

His exposed torso was drenched in blood, carved with fresh and gaping wounds.

Thwack!

"Move your feet, Sacrifice," the mortal in the suit barked, striking the chained one with a whip.

The sudden impact hurled him down, his face smashing into the ground first, which led to a barrage of continuous whip strikes.

Thwack...

Thwack...

Thwack...

Blood splattered on the ground as more wounds carved themselves onto the shackled one's back.

"Who told you that you can rest?" the mortal carrying the whip snapped, raising his arm for another round.

"Theoran, stop!" Victor ordered. "I still need that Sacrifice to offer his blood to the gods."

"I-I'm sorry, Lord Victor," Theoran stammered, turned to the half-dead mortal on the ground and muttered, "Stop insulting me and rise to your feet right now."

"Sir Theoran, why don't you give the poor man a hand?" one of the guards laughed.

"Since you're at it, offer him some water as well," another mocked.

Several laughing voices followed mocking the human in question till the point blood rushed to his face in embarassment.

"Hah! Why would I touch this filth?" Theoran snapped. "If not for Lord Victor, I would have already kill—"

As he was speaking, the mortal with the disgraced appearance slipped his axe horizontally below the shackled one, lifted his body upward, and hurled him directly into the cage.

"Wasting so much time for a small task like this," he scoffed, turning back as the Sacrifice struck the caged floor with a loud thud.

"That gorilla-faced mortal might be the strongest here," Jambavan murmured. "Fighting him would be fun."

"We are not here for fun," I said dryly.

Victor drew a silver sword from his ring and pointed its end at the shackled mortal in front of him, announcing, "I hereby commence the beginning of the ninth Rite of the Red Harvest."

Dum-ta-DUM… Dum-ta-DUM…

Dum-ta-DUM… Dum-ta-DUM…

The sound of drums vibrated the walls of the structure as Victor walked toward the caged one.

Raising his sword, he stared down at him before descending his blade, aiming for the neck.

Just as he was about to sever his head, the chained one rolled sideways, barely saving his skin.

"Thank god that Awakener still has some strength, or it would have been over too soon," a guard laughed.

"Exactly!" another added. "The Sacrifice last year survived for almost an hour. Let's see how long this one can last."

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