Arena

"Wake up."

"Wake up."

The calling voice Qin Xa had once driven away during his second awakening echoed by his ear once more. His consciousness gradually returned, and his eyes slowly opened.

A stone ceiling came into view.

Beneath him was a cold stone slab bed.

Qin Xa turned his head and saw a middle-aged man who, by mortal standards, was extraordinarily brawny, with a body as huge and sturdy as a bear's.

The middle-aged man sat in the corner of the cold metal room, stroking his gray beard. When he realized Qin Xa was awake and watching him, an unmistakable look of astonishment appeared on his face.

He hurriedly rose, turned around, picked up a cup filled with murky liquid from a broken stone table, and eagerly offered it to Qin Xa.

This series of movements and expressions showed the concern and friendliness of this man as strong as a bear.

Though Qin Xa could not understand a word the man said as he offered the cup, he could tell that the bear-like man before him had a kind heart.

Vaguely, Qin Xa's psychic gift told him the same thing about the man.

"I can't understand what you're saying." Qin Xa pointed at his ear, then shook his head.

But he had a way to understand this man, as well as everyone else's language.

"Please sit down," Qin Xa said.

Though the man could not possibly understand his words either, his tone and gestures would convey his gentle attitude and his request. When language failed, words were merely a habit.

After Qin Xa patted the floor before him, the friendly, bear-strong middle-aged man sat down despite his confusion.

The two sat facing each other.

Qin Xa raised his right arm, pointed to it with his left hand, and looked at the man before him with an inquiring gaze.

The other man's expression and gaze were equally puzzled, but he sensed that Qin Xa was probably a gentle person. Raising one eyebrow, he nodded in confusion.

Qin Xa placed his hand on the middle-aged man's head.

"My lord."

As Qin Xa began searching his memories for something useful, a conversation lingered in his ears.

It had been a conversation between him and the White Scars Chapter's Librarian.

"If we need to communicate with locals while carrying out a mission, but the Imperium's official language has not spread there, what should we do?"

That had been Qin Xa's question.

"You worry too much. There is no need to fret over translation. We have plenty of ways—translation devices, guides, or, if there is truly no other option, eating brains. But unless you are absolutely forced to, do not do that."

That had been the Librarian's answer.

Then the Librarian added, "I can teach you a method used by us Psykers, if it would put your mind at ease."

Qin Xa recalled that conversation and the method the Librarian had described.

It was a method similar to reading minds.

Psykers had different gifts, and those gifts gave them different strengths in particular fields.

Some Psykers excelled at Prophecy, while some were born able to read other people's minds.

Qin Xa could not read minds. In fact, he did not know which field his psychic gift excelled in, but he could learn. His capacity for learning was immense.

By tracing and making use of the desire to communicate shared by both people sitting face-to-face, along with their extremely close contact and other factors, Qin Xa read the part of the other man's mind related to communication.

Every sentence the man had spoken since childhood and every word he had learned were extracted as special fragments of memory for Qin Xa to comprehend.

Then Qin Xa learned the locals' language.

"You can tell that I am not from here." Qin Xa removed his hand, rose, and gave the man before him the Aquila Rite. "Thank you for the trust, kindness, and cooperation you showed when we first met. Otherwise, I would not have been able to learn your people's language."

"I can also tell you are a sorcerer." The man stood and smiled, shaking his head. "There is no need to thank me. Gladiators must help each other. Otherwise, we would not survive even half a day in this damned place."

Qin Xa nodded and studied the man before him once more.

"Oenomaus," the man introduced himself.

Upon hearing the name, Qin Xa tilted his head slightly. It sounded remarkably familiar, so familiar that he sank into thought and forgot to give his own name.

Perhaps Oeno had encountered people who seemed unwilling to introduce themselves before. Or perhaps he deeply understood the wariness of people trapped in desperate circumstances. He did not press for Qin Xa's name, merely turned and gestured for him to follow.

The two left the cave-like room and entered a larger cavern.

Men and women in tattered clothes were scattered throughout the cavern. Some scrutinized Qin Xa's physique with wariness and curiosity, some gave him friendly looks, while others looked at him with bloodthirsty hatred.

"When you first woke up, I was surprised because you are the only person ever brought here after being drugged who woke up within a day."

"You did not understand our language before, so the Slave Catchers who brought you here probably could not tell you what you had been captured for."

Oeno walked ahead to a barred window at the cavern's northern end.

"This is the Arena. We are all Slaves captured and brought here to fight as Gladiators."

"..."

Qin Xa did not hear a single word Oeno said. He was considering the questions in his mind.

He was the only one who had awakened within a day after being drugged... Qin Xa was not surprised. He had long noticed that whenever he fell asleep, a voice would always call for him to wake up—even when he merely dozed off for a brief rest.

As for this place.

The moment the drug took effect and he touched the Slave Catchers' belongings to see the Prophecy, he had instantly understood where this was and what he would face.

This was a place called Nuceria.

The Nucerians loved gladiatorial combat. They captured Slaves and sent them into the Arena.

The caravan he had encountered earlier had been a professional band of Slave Catchers who captured people to send into the Arena.

As for why the drug had worked on an Astartes... let alone an Astartes, even a Primarch would be knocked unconscious after being given Nucerian drugs.

Qin Xa did not care about what Oeno had said. There were only two questions he needed answered now.

First: Oenomaus. The name sounded familiar, but he could not remember where he had heard it.

Second: the Slave Catchers he had encountered earlier had already been killed by him, so how had he been sent into the Arena?

At the instant he lost consciousness, Qin Xa had hoped that when he woke, he would still be in the wasteland rather than awakening directly inside the Arena.

"I can hardly believe that someone as strong as you, and a sorcerer besides, was brought here by Slave Catchers who did not even have a scratch on them," Oeno said.

"Perhaps that band of Slave Catchers got lucky," Qin Xa shrugged.

This question did not require obsessive scrutiny.

Qin Xa walked to Oeno's side and looked out through the iron-barred window.

Outside lay the Arena.

The enormous Arena stretched beyond sight. Spectators sat in the stands surrounding its center, cheering.

At the Arena's center, within an area sealed off by walls of energy, a gladiatorial battle was underway.

Qin Xa's gaze was instantly drawn to one of the Gladiators.

He was a boy who still looked very young, though he was already exceptionally tall. The only thing that made him seem young was the terrified, panicked expression on his face.

"Angron," Qin Xa murmured.