Order of Fate

When the daily training came to an end, a bell's ring echoed throughout the large arena and all the slaves moved in practiced formation. The circular arena had two massive steel doors upon both its northern and southern sides. Once inside, a series of paths led them to a massive underground tower. 

Like a drill the tower had carved deep into the soil, each level circular in shape. The underground tower served as the resting place for all the slaves under its embrace. The tower had five levels, the bottom three were the homes of the slaves while the second and first levels served as defensive choke points. There many guards cladded in rust colored armors patrolled its halls, ready to respond in the unlikely event that the slaves attempted a revolt. 

Soon they were led inside the slave chambers and a heavy door closed behind them. Now left alone, everyone present was finally given a moment to breathe. Some immediately huddled together and began to discuss the day's practice while others preferred not to be bothered and began striving towards their designated rooms. 

The crimson eyed slave was one of them, he walked silently, doing his best to not seem troubled. Before long he arrived at a room situated on the bottommost level. It was a squared room with a stone bed to its side. He stared upon that stone bed as if it was the most comfortable thing in the world. 

Maybe some sleep will help.

He laid down on the bed and soon became lost in thought. 

Another disaster… At this rate…

Trepidation began surfacing in his heart and before long it turned into despair. What was he to do? The young slave was known as Walker 248, to a born slave of Sounra, it was both his rank and his current name. He was born into the central city of Al-Intys, the manufacturing heart of the Sounra Kingdom's booming slave industry. 

Once bred and after they turned six, the slaves would then be placed within the White Rooms, where they spend the next four years being educated about various topics. Only after are they evaluated and placed within one of the city's three slave roles. That of: Servant, Pleasure, or Soldier. 

Each role then had three stages, with the crop being optimized upon the ending of each one. Walker 248 had been unfortunate to be placed upon the soldier role. Unlike the previous two roles, the kingdom had no intention of selling the soldiers forged, instead they were destined for the kingdom's own slave army sector, an elite division under direct control of the king himself. 

Due to this, not only did his role have stages which increasingly intensified upon focusing on physical might and combat prowess, but the grading was also much more strict. 

The Sounra Kingdom was a land which believed in results. That mindset could be seen etched into the being of each slave role but even more so upon the soldier role. In the beginning, Walker 248 had just over a thousand peers which shared in this role, now only around five hundred remained. 

The last two stages had cut the herd by 250 each, and now the time for the third stage's end was approaching, only being a week and a half away. Those who survived would graduate from this city and be taken to the capital as the elites of their generation. There they would then go through the final stage of their training before truly becoming part of the slave army. 

Ultimately, that was each of their goals, Walker 248 included. But this goal appeared almost impossible to be obtained by him. As his name and rank suggested, he was at the 248th slot within the walker rank. They had been given that name because they were the 250 slaves which would be killed should the stage end arrive, they were dead ones walking. 

Above that and among those which had their lives guaranteed were the 150 Daggers, followed by the 60 Silvers, 30 Golds, and the best of the best, the 10 Swords.

Just thinking of holding such ranks made Walker 248's heart yearn with envy. After all, only three ranks followed behind him which made him land firmly within the ten lowest ranked slaves within this stage. With only two more major chances to reach the Dagger Rank, it could be said that his situation was hopeless. Furthermore, Walker 248 did not possess the ability to wield magic, the focus of this third stage. 

Once more despair drenched his entire being and he could not stop his quivering lips from uttering a pleading cry. 

"Mom… I won't be able to keep our promise." 

The moment he spoke those words, the image of a woman surfaced in his mind. It was that of his mother. Even though he had only spent his first five years with her, she had encompassed him with so much care that he could not forget her even now. 

He still vividly remembered her long black hair, red eyes, and warm smile. How she told him stories within that small prison of theirs at night, of how she ruffled his hair until he fell asleep. Back then, he had taken such motherly affection for granted, only learning of its rarity when he met other bred slaves like him. 

To them, their mothers had been distant and cold, a result of them being forced to have children against their wills. This only made Walker 248's love for his mother solidify eternally into his heart. Yet it was this very love that made his situation fill him with so much dread. 

Walker 248 was afraid of death, but he could come to accept it. However, his soul was never allowed such inner peace since the moment he separated from his mother, since the day of their promise. Back then, upon their final day together, she had held him tightly and with words full of sorrow she made him a promise. 

"I'll come back for you! When.. When I do everything shall turn for the better! So please son promise me that you will remain unharmed, please Arren do not let yourself fall here, even if you have to stand above a mountain of corpses, survive and wait for me! Promise me!"  

She had made his heart tremble then, and of course, he had agreed without hesitation. 

After a few years he had truly come to understand that such a promise was impossible for her to keep, in fact the chances that she was sold away or was already dead far surpassed any hopes that she was still within this city. Even if she was, it was impossible for her to escape let alone with him by her side.

He knew that well, yet it did not matter. The first five years of his life were the most precious memories he had, he loved her dearly and while she could not keep her side of the promise, he himself could struggle bitterly to uphold it on his side.

He would survive even if only the life of a slave awaited him in the end. He would do so with all his might because his mother wished so, a desire born from her love for him. How could he dare tarnish those feelings? 

A sudden tide of motivation rushed into his very veins and his despair subsided somewhat. Two more chances still remained after all and he could not give up now!

Walker 248's red eyes had been fixated on the stone ceiling of his room. When the rush of motivation died down, only a melancholic face remained. A specific word then surfaced in his mind. 

Arren…

He thought of the word which he only heard his mother utter upon her desperate plea. Back then he had thought little of it, however over the years which followed he came to a bold conclusion. It was his name. 

Slaves were not allowed to hold names, yet his mother had chosen one for him regardless. This made his heart feel warm. Her care for him had been truly plentiful. 

Of course, there was a possibility he was wrong. Even if he was not, he would never dare to speak it out loud. It had long since been adapted as his name, yet it had never been uttered beyond the borders of his mind. 

Before Arren had realized, a warm smile was etched onto his lips.

Mom, if… If we ever meet again, I'll thank you for this wonderful name, and for everything else.

As he was deep in thought, a sudden voice snapped him back into reality. 

"Why are you in bed so early?" 

Arren lifted his head and his crimson eyes found a pair of blue eyes staring at him. He smiled. 

"Golden 29, congratulations on your stellar performance today." 

Before Arren was another of his fellow slaves, and perhaps the only one which he could consider a friend.