"Yawn… Umm… What a weird dream."
Kael muttered as his eyes slowly opened from sleep.
Morning had only just begun to stir. The sun was rising along the horizon, its pale light creeping into the world, while the first birds had started their gentle songs. For a moment everything felt ordinary.
Then his vision cleared.
The ceiling above him was wrong.
A faint crease formed between his brows. He rubbed his eyes with both hands, trying to chase away the haze of sleep, but when he looked again the sight remained exactly the same.
Familiar, yet completely unfamiliar.
"Hmm, what is going on?"
He pushed himself upright and looked around.
The confusion deepened.
This place was nothing like his luxurious apartment. Instead of polished walls and modern furniture, he found himself inside a crude hut. The walls were made of packed mud, rough and uneven. A small window sat beside one wall, letting in thin strips of morning light, while a low thatched roof hung above his head.
The air itself felt different.
Seeing this, his confusion only grew.
What is going on? Am I still dreaming?
Kael thought. Nothing else made sense.
But then his gaze slowly lowered toward his own body.
And what he saw froze him.
His torso was bare, and he wore only a pair of loose, coarse fabric trousers. Yet the clothing was the least strange part.
His body was different.
Much bulkier than the lean, muscular frame he was used to. The skin covering it was darker as well, far darker than the tone he had always known.
His hands looked wrong too.
Thicker. Veins stood out along the back of them. Stronger somehow, but also rougher, more masculine than the hands he remembered.
He lifted one slowly, staring at it.
Unable to stop himself, Kael reached out and touched it with his other hand. The unfamiliar fingers moved instinctively, responding to his will as naturally as his own ever had.
He could feel it.
The warmth of skin. The pressure of touch.
A sudden shiver ran through him, goosebumps rising along his arms and lifting the hairs there.
"What is going on—"
Knock. Knock.
"Seventy-eight, Come out!"
He suddenly realized something was wrong. But before the thought could fully form, a heavy knock struck the door of the hut, the sound sharp and sudden. A voice called out from the other side.
But… Seventy-eight?
Kael frowned, confusion tightening across his face as the word echoed in his mind. What was going on?
The person outside clearly had little patience for his confusion. Another knock followed immediately, louder than before, accompanied by the same shout.
KNOCK KNOCK
"Come out!"
Seeing this, Kael quickly rose to his feet and moved to the door. When he pulled it open, a huge man stood waiting outside.
The man's body was thick with bulky muscle, his head shaved completely bald. A long scar cut across his face, the hardened lines of it making his already intimidating presence even more severe.
He looked frightening.
But Kael did not find him frightening at all. In his line of work, he had seen men far more fearsome than this.
The man snorted.
"Hmph! You finally came out. Now get ready—your match starts in half an hour. The house is full, important guests have arrived, and the master told me to tell you: make this fight as entertaining as possible and try to win."
Kael grew even more confused as he listened. He wanted to ask what the man meant.
But before he could say anything, the man had already turned around and walked away without another word.
And at that moment—
Memories suddenly erupted inside Kael's mind.
They surged through him in a violent flood, fragments of another life forcing their way into his consciousness. They were not his memories… yet they felt as if they belonged to him now, merging with his very being.
Within that overwhelming rush, he saw the life of a young man.
The man's name was Kael Soren.
But here, inside the Red Serpant Arena, he was not called by his name. Here, he was known only as Seventy-Eight.
It was a title given to him after he had won ten consecutive matches against other gladiators of the arena, becoming the seventy-eighth person in its history to achieve such a feat.
He had been sold to this arena at the age of ten by his own parents. From that moment on, his life had belonged entirely to the arena. He was raised within its walls, trained and hardened for a single purpose.
To become a gladiator.
At sixteen, he began fighting in the arena.
Now, at nineteen, he had already earned the title of Gladiator, making him one of the youngest fighters to defeat the older, far more experienced warriors within the arena.
Yet even with his strength and victories, Kael's fate was no different from the others.
He was strong, but he had no freedom.
He could not leave the arena. The place that served as his living quarters was also his prison for life.
But that was supposed to change today.
The master had said that if he won today's match, he would finally be granted the freedom he had desired for so long.
Overjoyed by the promise, Kael had drunk to his heart's content—so much that he never even realized when his heart stopped beating.
And now…
Kael had taken his place in that body instead.
After seeing all of this, his face twisted with pure bewilderment.
He could not stop the words from slipping out.
"What the fuck? Why?"
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