Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 496: The Sweeper

Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 496: The Sweeper

Inside the steel cage, Oscar planted his feet on the stable, flat yet harsh steel stage and clenched his fists, cheers and bangs erupting around him from the prisoners as the fight was about to start. It felt familiar, fighting bare-knuckled against another inmate surrounded by a crazed rabble, a fond memory emerging from the wellspring of his memories. Long ago, he fought against John in the Abyss Prison as a part of his master's test. Staring around, he almost convinced himself his master would be watching intently from the sidelines, the same unreadable expression hidden under the helmet. Sadly, his master wasn't by his side.

'Wait for a while longer, Master. I will be there soon.' Oscar vowed.

"Where do you think you're looking?!" His opponent cackled, sticking his tongue gleefully. He swung his lanky arm, curling his fingers like claws, sharp, overly long nails sticking out like blades.

"Fool," Oscar swayed back, dodging the nails by a hair. His enemy lashed out widely, the steel floor screeching like wailing children as the nails scraped and scratched along its surface, creating long streaks. Oscar didn't retaliate and sidestepped every strike, his feet drumming on the floor rhythmically. Due to the effects of the grade-five transfiguration elixir, his body felt foreign, his physique not something he was used to. So, he weaved and moved, training his new legs and feet.

"Stop dodging!" His foe screamed, bringing his hands in from both sides as if about to give him a painful hug.

"You're right," After a short time, Oscar exhaled and stopped, allowing the ferocious nails to come close. His body was fully prepared and under his control, every muscle fiber bending to his will. He spun his body and extended his legs, kicking both arms away. Using the momentum, he kicked off the steel floor and punched his opponent, driving his fist into the jaw. His foe fell limply onto the ground, motionless and eyes unfocused.

"Cell A-4 is the winner again. That makes them the overall winner!" The prison guard announced, and the audience erupted into chaos, banging their hands on their benches and roaring in cheers.

Oscar stepped down from the stage and was greeted by the wide smiles and open hands of Alec, Louis, and Rolan. There was no harm in rejecting their praise, so Oscar high-fived them, ignoring the scared Edclet on the side. Resting on the bench, he wiped his sweaty face with his shirt and noticed Alec and the others standing before him. "What?"

"With this victory, we'll have five hours of torture and a piece of smoked chicken added to our lunch. If we keep winning, we'll live in luxury here." Alec bowed slightly. "With the four of us together, there's no chance of us losing." Louis and Rolan grinned widely, showing their teeth as their cheeks contorted, elated at the rewards.

"You call this luxury? You all are too used to living here." Oscar scoffed and ran his hand through his hair. From their words, he could tell they had become accustomed to living here, not a single bit of resistance left in their minds.

"We do the best with what we have," Alec shrugged. "I hate this place like anyone else, but what can we strive for in this hellhole? Escape? That's a pipedream."

Oscar didn't answer and turned away from the other three to watch the rest of the matches. All the Knight Exalts here had gone through horrific battles and trained their bodies to the limit. He found it a shame to see them all reduced to simple brawlers like children fighting in the mud, a far cry from their glorious past. Fred easily won against his opponent, beating him down to a pulp, and Oscar secretly pumped his fist by his side, cheering for his friend.

"That's the Sweeper. The other inmates weren't so keen to talk about it." Fred chewed his smoked chicken slowly, clearly savoring the taste. "You didn't ask your cellmates?"

"I did. Alec didn't answer." Oscar sipped his small cup of water and swirled the droplets in his mouth, tasting like heavenly honey to his parched throat.

"You should take over your cell. I already did." Emily rubbed her eyes.

"I did as well. It wasn't hard. Just beat them all down." Fred concurred, smiling at Emily, who scoffed and turned away.

Oscar shook his head. "Keeping a low profile is best. I don't want a target on my back, and Alec has all the respect for a reason. So what is this Sweeper?"

"Can't say much. Some said it used to be a prisoner here before its mind finally broke, but it turned into a cold, murderous machine instead of a screeching maniac. I managed to find a man who was one of the first inmates, and he said it's always been here since the start, roaming the halls for anyone who failed to return to their cells. Somehow, it always found them and left a bloody gift in the mess hall." Fred explained. He leaned in and scratched his fingers on the table, speaking in body language.

'Your master is here. The old inmate said the guards were especially rowdy and cheerful, bragging about catching the disciple of the Pavilion Master. He's confirmed to be below us.'

"I hope I don't run into that monster," Oscar said while responding with his fingers. 'Is there another way below? Or is that elevator shaft the only route?'

"As long as we're all safe in our cells at night, it won't hurt us. Worry about our daily assignments." Emily joined in the silent messages. 'There are other doors. I noticed guards coming in and out.'

"Report for your assignments!" The guards barked and forced everyone to line up, giving each inmate a directive.

"Cleanup duty." The guard ordered Oscar to join a group of inmates. He went along with them, led by another guard into a set of stairs, forced to clean every nook and cranny while the guard read propaganda against the Blue Ocean Pavilion and the Brilliant Drake Empire. Scrubbing his dirty sponge on the stairs, Oscar glanced up and then focused his gaze down.

His master had to be down there.