The closer Qin Xa got to the cave, the faster he walked.
He had been gone for nearly an entire afternoon and night. Angron, Oeno, and the others had to have been worried sick.
They had probably thought he had been taken away by the slavers for punishment, or slaughtered for being disrespectful during dinner. They must have been frantic.
Thinking of that, Qin Xa's steps grew lighter, and much of the confusion and heaviness brought on by the Tark Family's mad patriarch faded away.
Qin Xa liked the feeling of being cared about.
When a Security Automaton sent a signal to the gate and it opened, the Gladiators all rose to their feet at the sight of Qin Xa returning unharmed. As the gate crashed shut again, they gathered around him.
"The Arena Manager didn't do anything to you, did he?"
"Where did you go?"
Concerned questions like these filled Qin Xa's ears.
Qin Xa had expected some concern, but he had not expected nearly everyone to come over and ask after him, even those who had never exchanged a word with him and had only met his gaze once or twice.
Still, Qin Xa was not especially surprised.
The Arena was a closed and dangerous environment. Banding together for warmth was an instinct engraved in human genes. Besides, even the Skinner, the Nusa Twins, and the ten Gladiators who had later abandoned their principle against killing had fought alongside everyone against the Plebeian Butchers.
It was hardly surprising that their friendship had progressed so quickly.
"The Tark Family patriarch is a madman," Qin Xa remarked, spreading his arms. "But as you can see, I'm fine. I just did a few things."
Hearing that Qin Xa was all right, Angron let out a breath of relief.
Those who