Chapter 3: Hope for survival

​After observing that all the sacks contained young children, Smith opened the rest of them. He then decided to undertake the task of arranging the kids side by side on the stack of straw.

​In total, there were nine children seven were girls and two boys. Unlike Smith, they didn’t have a sickly, impoverished complexion. Their skin was fair, and they had plenty of flesh on their bones, with some even carrying soft baby fat. Comparing himself to them by touching his own hollow face, the contrast was like day and night. He was clearly malnourished. Curious about how these kids had ended up in a place like this, he retreated to a dark corner and waited for them to awaken.

​Smith noticed a crucial detail he had previously missed: their hair colors were strikingly unusual. Some had vibrant red hair, while others had bright blue. Stepping closer to examine them, he realized it wasn’t artificial dye the colors were completely uniform, even at the very roots. He concluded that this group of children undoubtedly possessed extraordinary backgrounds.

​The first child to wake up was a girl. Disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings and recalling recent events, she burst into tears. Her sobbing woke Smith from his light doze. He sat silently in the shadows, observing her.

​Eventually, the girl exhausted herself from crying and went quiet. Perhaps due to the lingering effects of whatever drug they had been given, the other children began stirring from their unconsciousness one by one. Just like the first girl, they started crying out for their mothers and fathers. Their pleas were entirely futile,no one was listening.

​Once their crying subsided into quiet sniffling, Smith stepped forward.

​"Do you know where we are right now?" he asked.

​The children looked up at Smith with puzzled, frightened expressions. One of the boys answered, "We don’t know."

​Smith pressed further, "How did you get here? What’s the last thing you remember?"

​One by one, the children shared their last memories before passing out. Connecting the pieces, Smith concluded that they had all been kidnapped. Moreover, judging by their explanations, this group came from influential and powerful families.

​If these kids are from high status families, Smith reasoned, their people where definitely be searching for them.

​This was the exact opportunity he had been waiting for. When their families inevitably arrived to rescue them, he could pretend to be just another innocent victim, ride their coattails to freedom, and complete his survival task without further life or death pressure.

​Calculating the possibilities in his mind, Smith offered them a reassuring smile.

​"Don’t worry," he said smoothly. "I was kidnapped and thrown into this place just like you. But I know your families are out there looking for you right now. If you follow my instructions, I can guarantee that we’ll survive until your families arrive to pick you up."

​Seeing another boy near their age who seemed calm and experienced in this terrifying place, the children chose to trust him.

​What they didn’t realize was that Smith was operating on pure calculation. Unsure of how long it would take for the rescue to show up, he was deliberately building rapport with them. That way, when their families finally broke in, the children would insist on bringing their new "friend" along. It wasn’t born out of goodwill; it was simply a survival scheme.

​As he was comforting the young children and giving them hope, the cell door creaked open. Two guards entered carrying buckets of food, which they slammed onto the ground in front of the kids.

​"This is your food until tomorrow," one guard barked. "Share it among yourselves. Remember, you only get one meal a day."

​They dropped a final bucket of drinking water on the floor and left, locking the door behind them.

​The meal immediately revolted the wealthy children. It was a cold, unappetizing sludge a mixture of coarse porridge and boiled wild greens.

​Smith, who hailed from a world with far better culinary standards, lost his appetite instantly as well. Even in the slums, the food he ate was fresh, and his aunt’s cooking had been decent.

​"You can eat when you are hungry," Smith told the group.

​The children stared at the bucket, hesitant to touch it.

​"This is all they’re giving us," Smith warned neutrally. "If you don’t want to starve to death, you have to eat."

​At first, the children were stubborn, and Smith didn’t force them. Even he wasn’t psychologically prepared to swallow the slop just yet. But he knew that once real hunger set in, instincts would take over.

​Inside the cell, darkness was absolute, save for the faint illumination of torches lining the corridor outside. It was impossible to distinguish day from night, but Smith tracked the passage of time using the interface’s floating countdown timer.

​He stayed in the cell with the children for more than two days. Just as he had predicted, on the third day, a group of guards opened the door and bound everyone including Smith in shackles.

​As they were dragged down the corridors, the children panicked, shouting that their powerful families would make the captors pay. The two boys were particularly loud, while the girls stared at the floor in mute terror.

​Smith noticed their escalating fright. He offered them a calm smile and whispered, "Don’t worry. We’ll get through this together."

​He needed to keep them in a calm state. If a fight broke out, he couldn’t afford to have them fall into blind panic. His words worked; while still terrified, the children managed to pull themselves together.

​Instead of returning to the small, enclosed cage arena from his first fight, they were escorted into a massive, underground Colosseum style arena.

​Reaching the center of the stage, Smith spotted three other groups of participants already waiting. All of them were grown adults, making Smith’s group of kids by far the youngest and physically weakest.

​A sudden realization struck Smith, sending a cold shiver down his spine. Please don’t let it be what I think it is... If my guess is right, getting out of this in one piece is going to be nearly impossible.

​A new MC stepped up to the center platform and projected his voice across the roaring stadium:

​"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to our beloved arena! Today, we have a very special game, proposed by one of our major patrons! He wanted to see how well the pampered younger generation of our elite families can handle themselves inside a real arena—without a line of bodyguards to shield them!"

​A massive commotion broke out in the stands. As the audience looked closer at the group of children and recognized the distinct hair colors of prominent houses, the reality of the MC’s words set in. Under normal circumstances, spectators might have fled to distance themselves from such a dangerous events. Instead, the masked crowd grew exponentially wilder, their bloodlust escalating to a point where even the MC struggled to regain control.

​After several attempts, the MC finally calmed the roaring audience and continued:

​"As you know, today is a special event, so let’s not waste any time! We want to see how the younger generation compare against the older generation!"

​ the arena guards hauled heavy sacks into the ring and dumped their contents at the children’s feet.

​it was a pile of weapons though they were poorly maintained.

​Turning to the children, Smith ignored the MC’s commentary and asked firmly, "Do you trust me?"

​Seeing the immediate danger around them, the children nodded solemnly.

​"Everyone needs to pick a shield or a spear you may choose any" Smith ordered quickly. "I have a plan that can keep us alive. If you coordinate with me and follow my orders, we will survive. But if you don’t, I can’t guarantee the results."

​Trembling with visible panic, the children picked up the spears and shields,although it was challenge for children to wield the weapons but is was for there own survival so they have to do it.

​Meanwhile, weapons were distributed to the other three adult groups, and all shackles were unlocked and removed.

​Once the four groups were armed, the MC raised his hands high:

​"For this round, let’s spice things up a bit!"

​A massive wooden cage was wheeled into the center of the arena. From within the dark crate, the low, guttural roars of multiple beasts echoed across the arena.

​Hearing those predatory growls, a terrible feeling welled up in Smith’s chest.