RWBY: Ascendant Spark

Chapter 2 — Dark Days

Leon's eyes slowly slid open.

Wait, what? His eyes were open? How?

He was lying on his stomach atop a cold, stone slab when he came back into reality. At least, he assumed it was reality. The throbbing pain emanating from his back and chest were real enough. He attempted to push himself up, but the instant he started to strain himself his back erupted into pain and he collapsed back onto the slab. Trying a more careful approach, Leon methodically craned his head left, right and forward in an attempt to get his bearings.

The walls, the floor and the ceiling were all made of a dusty red stone. Some sort of cave, perhaps? What the heck was he doing here? The last thing he remembered was…

The sanguinics. The fire. Mother and Father. It all came flooding back in a torrent of heartbreaking memories. And immediately the flood seeped out of his consciousness and through his eyes. The tears dripped down onto the slab and slid off the sides. He couldn't stop them, nor did he have any desire to. Along with his home, his whole life had just gone up in flames.

Leon had no idea how long he laid there, letting out all of his grief. Eventually, a door at one end of the room swung open with a loud creak and an average-sized man wearing dirty white scrubs stepped in. Leon couldn't discern the majority of the man's features, save his neatly groomed black hair, for his face was covered by a surgical mask. His gait, however, wasn't that of an angry jailer or a sadistic torturer. Leon was overcome with the sudden desire to pelt the man with questions, but he also felt that if the man intended to tell Leon what was going on, he would do so of his own accord. So he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.

The man finally reached the slab and pulled up a nearby folding chair. After situating himself, he gave Leon's back a look over. Then he spoke.

"Welcome back to the world, young man. You've been out for quite some time. Three days, in fact. Understandable, given the circumstances in which we found you. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

Given their surroundings, the man's seemingly nurturing tone surprised Leon. He tried to respond, to inform the man of all his current emotions. But he couldn't form the words.

"I…I…"

Fortunately, the man seemed to understand. He nodded and brought out a clipboard and pen.

"I can only imagine. Let's start with something simpler, then. I'm Doctor Owens. Would you like to tell me who you are?"

Leon struggled even to form those thoughts, but eventually he replied, "My name…is Leon…Ferox." He paused, and then continued. "I am…thirteen years old. My father…" He trailed off at his own mentioning of Father. A few more tears flowing down, he pressed on. "My father…was a Huntsman. Arcturus Ferox. We…" Another pause. "We were…attacked…in our home. There was a fire…"

Dr. Owens nodded again while scribbling notes on the clipboard. "Yes, I was there with the team that found the rubble of your home. There were also something else alive in the carnage. Shaped like a human, but turned out to be a rare creature of Grimm."

The image of the hideous beasts instantly flashed across Leon's mind. Never would he forget what they were. "Sanguinics," he spat. His anger began to return. "The monsters invaded our home. Started a fire. And they…" The slightest hope sparked in his heart. "Dr. Owens…did you find anyone else in the rubble? My mother or father?"

But the lowering of his eyebrows instantly dispelled any idea of that. "We never found any human man's body. However…" This time it was he who paused. "…we did find the body of a woman. She had hair like yours." Dr. Owens flinched when he saw the grief reappear on Leon's face. "She was already dead. I know it won't mean much, if anything at all, but I am truly sorry for your loss."

In truth, Leon had already known in his heart that his parents were gone. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

"It's my fault she's dead. My fault! I was supposed to protect her, but I failed! I failed and now they're both gone! My fault…" Leon slipped back into his misery.

Dr. Owens didn't interrupt Leon's sobbing. After a good while, Leon finally ceased. At that moment, Dr. Owens stated, "Well, Leon, I'm going to change the bandages covering your back. Also, we gave you an x-ray exam when we brought you here. You have a couple broken ribs. They'll take a month or two to heal. And I can already tell you that the slash marks on your back are going to leave four large scars." And he went about it. Leon could tell that Dr. Owens was attempting to be careful, but his back still felt like it had a hundred shards of glass sticking out of it. The slightest touch set off a spasm of pain. Once the old bandages were off, Dr. Owens squeezed a salve out of a plastic tube onto Leon's back. It was cold to the touch, but it made almost all of the pain subside. Leon couldn't help the gasp of relief that escaped his mouth. New bandages were placed over the salve and around his torso. With that, Dr. Owens started to leave the room, saying, "You'll be moved from this ward to an actual room once your back allows you to walk. Should be a few days, so sit tight."

Before the doctor walked out of the room, Leon called out to him, "Doctor, wait! Can you tell me where we are, exactly?"

The response left him more confused than before. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. Welcome to the Bloody Burrow."


After the third day, Leon was up and walking. The pain hadn't yet gone away fully, especially concerning his ribs, but he found it was bearable and very preferable to lying on his stomach for hours upon hours. He'd also been given a tiny room near Dr. Owens' office so that the routine examinations wouldn't be too much of a hassle. The room itself was the epitome of basic, containing only a chair, a little folding table, a single light bulb, and a small cot. The only television was in Dr. Owens' office, and the only channel it got was the news broadcast from Vale. He'd been told multiple times that he was not allowed beyond the hallway in which the rooms were adjacent to. Not that Leon was in the mood for exploration. He still couldn't truly come to terms with the fact that his parents were dead. A good portion of his recovery days were spent weeping on his cot. The sessions seemed to get slightly shorter each time, but the road of grief was a long one.

Dr. Owens let Leon catch up on world events outside the Burrow when the news came on. He almost began weeping again when the reporters showed the rubble of his home and confirmed the death of his mother, Lucia Ferox. They also stated that the bodies of Arcturus and Leon Ferox were missing, but samples of their blood had been found at the scene, and they were presumed dead.

This made Leon curious. "Dr. Owens, why has nobody reported that I'm alive?"

His response was brisk. "My superiors decided it would be best to keep you hidden for now." Leon's question seemed to have unnerved him, and the response unnerved Leon.

To fill the awkward silence that followed, Leon decided to change the subject a little bit. "What about my father? You said you didn't see him in the rubble, and the police didn't find his body. So where is he?"

"I don't know for sure, Leon. The best theory I can come up with is that the sanguinics took his body with them so they could…" He didn't finish the sentence, and Leon had no intention of following that line of thought.

The news reporters also interviewed some Huntsmen and Huntresses who had known his father from work. Some of their lamentations felt like they'd been read from a card, but a few of them, mainly the ones whom he'd met, were genuinely mournful.

It seemed that his...protectors, also neglected to inform the authorities of the sanguinic presence, as it was stated that investigators were stumped as to the cause of the carnage. Since Grimm corpses dissolved shortly after death, no sanguinic bodies were around to point them in the right direction. Leon could only hope that someday soon, someone would drag those monsters out of the shadows and bring justice to all their victims.

Whenever the news wasn't on, Dr. Owens offered to get some books for him to read. Leon refused his offer initially, as he had never been one for reading, but eventually he decided that reading would at least give him something to take his mind off current events. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything else for him to do. Over time, he began to enjoy the stories they told, though he often grimaced at some characters' reactions and feelings toward fighting monsters. Leon had done that himself, and had been permanently scarred from it.

There were many days where Leon thought he could hear voices outside the door. The stone walls muffled them, but it was definitely noticeable. There seemed to be a lot of them, but it was impossible to tell what was going on. At one examination, Leon asked Dr. Owens what the voices were and why this place was called the Bloody Burrow. "You'll see," was his cryptic reply. As he said that, something seemed to flash across Dr. Owens' face. Sadness? Regret? Pity? Whatever it was, it put Leon permanently on edge. He had a feeling nothing good would happen when he recovered.


Leon's ribs were ship shape after his seventh week at the Burrow. During that time, his grief and sadness had begun to give way to anger. Primarily, anger at the monsters who'd taken his life away, but also at his "rescuers" who had barred him off from the rest of this cave. He felt imprisoned within the red stone walls. What was outside it that was so dangerous? Why did Leon have to heal before he could even know the nature of its existence?

Soon after his recovery, however, Dr. Owens informed him that the superiors had ordered Leon to be brought before them immediately. While he was somewhat unnerved by the name and overall feel of this place, he was also impatient to get some answers. Leon followed Dr. Owens to the rusted iron door that he'd been longing to pass through for weeks. The doctor fumbled with finding the right key for a second, then turned it in the lock and pushed the door open. Leon enthusiastically stepped out.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find. A sacrificial altar of some twisted cult? A dazzling city hunkered inside a mountain? A secret military base of some unknown rebel group? Whatever it was that he'd thought he would see, it came nowhere close to the gigantic, underground cavern lit up by dozens of rectangular floodlights bolted into the ceiling. In the center of this cavern sat a massive glass dome about two blocks in diameter encapsulating a wide, sandy terrain marked by both short and tall spires of the familiar red stone jutting out of the ground. A few bushels of dried shrubs also dotted the miniature landscape. As he walked along behind Dr. Owens, Leon eventually noticed what looked like rows upon rows of benches situated around one half of the dome. The half directly across from where they walked, to be precise. And as he took in the benches, he noticed something he never expected after his near isolation. Spectators. Hundreds of people forming an active, excited crowd. Though the crowd was far away, Leon could hear their jumbled cheering. They must have been the source of the noises he'd heard during his recovery. Leon was about to ask Dr. Owens what they were cheering for, when he turned his gaze back to the sand-covered pit. There he saw what appeared to be two humans circling each other. Upon closer inspection, he realized the two were brandishing weapons in a defensive stance. The two continued their circle for ten more seconds before one converged on the other.

And as Leon witnessed the attacker drive a sword straight through the other man's chest as the crowd screamed approval, the terrifying truth dawned on him.

The Bloody Burrow was a gladiator arena.

Leon had heard of this highly illegal concept only in books and movies. While arenas such as this were common in the old kingdoms, modern law had banned them. The only acceptable instance of organized, lethal fighting was having students in combat schools train against creatures of Grimm. His late father, who'd dedicated his life to handling the problems the police could not, had only ever heard distant rumors of something like this. And with all of the clearly present crimes occurring all throughout the city of Vale and its outlying territory – robberies, murders, assaults by organized crime syndicates – attention had always been focused elsewhere. So to be planted right into the heart of an arena was utterly baffling. It also raised the question as to why the "superiors" of this crime center had seen fit to rescue a thirteen-year-old boy with extensive injuries from the ruins of his burned house, lug him all the way back to their arena, and treat his wounds.

And then a frightening thought struck him. He didn't want to believe that anybody could do that to someone who'd been through so much, but it seemed like the only reason why they would go through so much trouble on his account.

He was torn away from contemplations by Dr. Owens, who stated, "Here we are. My superiors are inside."

Leon realized they'd stopped in front of another door, this one made from what he thought was a rich mahogany wood. After his realization, he had lost all desire for answers. He was afraid of what they would be, and what they would mean for him. But he knew he had no choice. He had no idea where the exit to the Burrow could possibly be located, or where the Burrow itself was in relation to Vale. The only way to go was forward.

So Leon nodded at the doctor, who turned the handle on the door and pushed it open. Leon forced himself to walk in before he lost his nerve. Once Leon cleared the threshold, the door was pulled shut behind him.

What first struck Leon was the decor of this room. The walls were still made of the same red stone, but ornate shapes were carved into these walls. Most depicted battles—human against human, human against monster, and monster against monster. In addition to the carvings, many paintings hung against the stone. Once again, they all had the central theme of combat, and all had been crafted with painstaking detail. At the far end of the room sat a large oak desk with a computer and a few stacks of papers neatly piled up to one side. And around the desk were two men. One sat behind the desk, and the other stood to the side. The man in the chair appeared almost regal, clad in silk robes trimmed with fur. Oddly, a laurel wreath sat upon his curly chocolate hair. It seemed to be made of pure gold and inlaid with jewels. He was a little on the pudgy side, which gave Leon the impression of an old kingdom noble.

His counterpart, however, emanated nothing but ferocity. He had the stance of a seasoned warrior and a haggard, stubble-covered face that made it seem like he could strike out and snap your neck in a heartbeat. He was massive, almost seven feet tall and with a bulky build. He was also bald, and had a jagged scar running from just beside his right nostril, through his lips and ending on his chin. He was very intimidating, to say the least.

Whatever conversation they'd been engaged in previously was halted as Leon walked in. He forced himself not to start shaking, breathing deeply in and out. If the conclusion he'd come to was true, he couldn't afford to appear weak in front of them.

The two men eyed him for a few seconds before the pudgy one spoke. "So, Hartman. This is your little rescue child? Took him long enough to heal, didn't it?"

Leon took an instant dislike to this man. He'd clearly never had broken ribs before. Most likely, he had been pampered all his life and turned to crime so he could keep his fancy living without much work. That also told Leon that he was most likely going to be very impatient.

At least Leon no longer had to force himself not to quiver. The man's little quip had replaced all nervousness with annoyance.

Hartman, as he was apparently called, opted not to reply in kind, and instead just kept staring at Leon. He wasn't sure what he disliked more—the pudgy man's contempt or this behemoth's piercing gaze.

Eventually, Hartman broke the silence. "So, boy. I assume by now you know what goes on here at the Burrow?" His voice sounded just as Leon had imagined it to be. It was very gruff, but not in a benign way like his Father's had been. Hartman's voice gave Leon the impression that the man was trying to beat him down with it.

Leon lifted his gaze so it was level with Hartman's. It was a difficult feat not to look away, but he managed it. He then replied, "Yes, sir. I saw the end of your last match just a minute ago."

Hartman nodded slowly, as if he was putting all possible machismo into the motion as possible. "Well, then. Perhaps you might have guessed that you aren't a charity case? I brought you here for a reason, boy. The Bloody Burrow has been popular amongst the upper class of each kingdom for many decades now. But lately, Lord Nilloc and I," he gestured to the pudgy man, "have begun to notice a slight decline in attendance. As such, we've decided that these matches need a twist to spark interest again. Seeing you lying still alive in the rubble of your home gave me an idea for that twist. When the news covered the destruction of your home and revealed that your old pops was a Huntsman, I knew my gut hadn't led me wrong."

There was no denying it now. "You want me to fight, don't you?"

Hartman chuckled. "So you aren't just a slab of meat. You can reason a little bit, eh?" Lord Nilloc began snickering with him. "Well, don't go soiling your trousers. You won't be fighting straight away. We're going to train you. And you won't be alone. In the weeks since we picked you up, we went out and gathered other orphans who showed promise. They didn't have the injuries you did, so we kept 'em in the Pit all this time. Course, none of them had a Huntsman for a dad, so we gave 'em a head start in their…conditioning. But now that you're able, the training can begin in earnest."

This news heartened Leon a bit. He wasn't going to have to suffer alone. "So I'll be joining them today, then?"

Hartman gave a small smirk. "That's right, maggot. And after a few days, I promise you that you're gonna think your burning house was heaven compared to the Pit."

The comment was clearly intended to frighten Leon, but it had the opposite effect. Leon balled his hands into fists and stared at Hartman with intensity of a hungry beowolf. "You think that's funny, 'maggot'? You think the death of my family is a joke!?"

Lord Nilloc seemed startled by his outburst, like a church pastor would be startled by blasphemy. But Hartman simply chuckled again. "I like your fire, boy. But can you learn to use it when its kill or be killed?" When he didn't receive an answer, Hartman lost his humor. "Well, maggot. Our dear Dr. Owens relayed your little story to us a while ago. You claimed that when the sanguinics were blocking your escape route, you fought them and killed four. And after that you actually charged at the archsanguinic like some sort of psycho." He chuckled. "Sure got a good laugh outta me. But is any of that really true, boy?"

Still gritting his teeth, Leon nodded in reply.

"So, you probably didn't pull that skill outta nowhere, right? You must have some training already under your belt. Probably gonna enroll in Signal once the next year began? Makes my job easier." Suddenly, Lord Nilloc whispered something in Hartman's ear. When the ensuing conversation was finished, Hartman looked back to Leon. "That's all, maggot. I hope you realize I have high expectations for you, which is certainly saying something. If you let me down, you'd better hope it's because you died. Owens! Get him to the Pit!"


Leon and the doctor had spent a good couple of minutes walking along in complete silence. Leon couldn't help but feel hurt by the fact that this man, who'd been so kind to him these past weeks, had been prepping him for potential slaughter in front of a cheering crowd of bloodthirsty animals in human skin. They continued without a word until Leon simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you working for these criminals? I think you know that what they're doing is wrong, but you haven't lifted a finger to stop it. Maybe just a call to the Vale police, or an anonymous tip to the Huntsmen! That's all it'd take!"

Dr. Owens sighed, and answered, "Leon, my family has served the Nillocs for generations. They've always been kind to us. Granted, it wasn't until the current Nilloc that they turned into a crime syndicate. But it didn't change their support of us. Look, this is the hand I was dealt and I'm not going to throw it all away." At first he spoke to Leon as if all this should have been obvious, but then the doctor cut him some slack. "I know you won't be able to understand. Not yet. But if you were telling the truth about fighting those sanguinics, then trust me when I say that you already have more experience than any of the other 'initiates'. You have what it takes to succeed in here, Leon. You just have to strive for it."

At this point, they'd reached yet another iron door. Dr. Owens flipped through his key ring again and unlocked it. All Leon saw beyond was a very dimly lit tunnel leading down maybe a hundred or so feet to another door.

"Leon…it's going to be really tough at first. But I have faith in you. Find a weapon you're effective with, and master it as best you can. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Hartman told the other initiates that your father was a Huntsman. He felt you needed an extra challenge down there. This is going to make you a threat to most, and therefore a target. So find yourself some allies. But remember that in the end, you're the only person you can always trust." A touch of sadness now tinged his voice. "Also…if you're ever wounded during training or combat…access to medical treatment depends on Hartman's opinion of your worth. So don't get on his bad side. At least not more than anyone else."

Dr. Owens stuck out his hand. Still uncertain about the doctor's morality but grateful for the advice, Leon hesitantly shook it. "Thank you, doctor…for everything. And don't worry. I didn't survive the sanguinics just to die in some stinking hole." At this, they parted ways. The doctor walked back toward his office, and Leon began his descent into the Pit.


If his first five minutes in the Pit were any indication, then Leon was going to have an even tougher time in there than he'd thought.

He hadn't taken two steps through the second doorway when something slammed into his back, tackling him to the ground. The arms trying desperately to pin him were human, so this must have been one of the other initiates he'd been warned about. This one was attempting wrap his arm around Leon's neck, hoping to strangle him. Survival instincts kicking in, Leon brought his right elbow up and hammered it into the initiate's side. He was rewarded with a shout of pain, a boy's shout. His grip slackened a bit, but for now it was still holding fast. That soon changed as Leon rained blow after blow into the same spot. At the fifth or sixth strike, the boy finally gave in, releasing him and shuffling away.

Rolling back onto his feet, Leon took a good look at his would-be assassin. The boy looked to be about fourteen, but a few inches shorter and much skinnier than Leon. His pale blonde hair, which was similar to the color of damp hay, was tussled and unkempt. His limbs were fairly thin, but had the vaguest hint of muscle in them. The boy just stood there glaring at Leon with sunken eyes and hugging his right side. Leon knew the boy was in pain, but the look of desperation and anger in his eyes told Leon that he was going to attack again. And so it was that the initiate let loose a high-pitched cry and charged at him. But this time, Leon was more than prepared. Against a more skilled opponent, Leon might have opted for a defensive stance. This youth, however, required only a single massive strike to the chest for the ill-conceived battle to end. As if he had run into a wall, the boy flopped onto his back, gasping for air. Not taking kindly to the unprovoked assault, Leon planted his foot on the initiate's chest and pressed down ever so slightly. A whimper of pain followed the movement.

Assured that the message had been made clear, he eased the pressure off, but kept the foot planted. "I bet you feel pretty stupid, huh?" Leon asked almost casually. "Points for the element of surprise, but it probably wasn't such a bright idea to attack me alone, eh?"

The response came after a coughing laugh. "Not so smart…to assume I'm alone…"

And suddenly two other boys, both almost as well built as Leon, rushed at him from the shadows. They crashed into him like a clamp, and before Leon knew it they had him secured. He struggled, hoping to gain a lucky slip, but it was in vain. Now the ringleader slowly got to his feet, and after a few more coughs, addressed Leon. "I bet you feel pretty stupid, huh?" he mocked. "I'm gonna be blunt: the Burrow is my only shot at glory, and I ain't gonna let you waltz in here and take it for yourself, Huntsman boy." He emphasized his point with a solid punch to Leon's stomach. Leon grunted loudly at the blow. "It's my time!" Another blow, this time to Leon's left cheek. "Mine!" A punch to his mouth, cutting his lip. "Got it!?"

Suddenly, Leon flashed back to the extensive pain he endured at the hands of the archsanguinic. He had no intention of ever going through something like that again, especially not at the hands of this runt. As the ringleader brought his arm back for another punch, Leon roared and put all available force into a brutish forward kick. It connected with the ringleader's stomach and sent him sprawling. As his henchmen angrily struggled to keep Leon secured, the ringleader just laid there in the fetal position, clutching his stomach and breathing curses to himself.

Leon was certain the henchmen were going to make him pay for that. He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of blows, but they never came. What came instead was a thump on the back of the right one's head, followed by his sinking to the ground. Leon could have looked to see who'd done it, but instead decided to bring his newly freed right arm in around to sock the left henchman right in the nose. The impact caused a small crunch, and it was obvious that Leon had broken it. He dropped like a leaf, just like his comrades.

Now that they were out of the way, Leon turned to see his savior. Another boy, but much taller and obviously older than Leon. His hair was jet black and combed back, giving him the appearance of a shady businessman. His face, however, did not match that impression. His emerald eyes had a mischievous gleam and his mouth was currently set in a satisfied smirk. The high cheekbones and pointed chin made him look somewhat like an elf from fantasy books. In his hand he held a splintered wooden baton, which he must have used to strike the henchman with. His other hand reached out to Leon in an offered handshake. Relieved that it wasn't another fist, Leon shook it heartily.

"Thanks for having my back there, man. They really rolled out the red carpet for me, huh?" Leon said to him.

The other boy's reply was almost casual. "Y'know, these pissants pull this crap all the time. Think they're invincible 'cause they outnumber their targets. Well, it was past time someone taught 'em a lesson, and seeing 'em beat ya like that was as good an excuse as any." He turned to glanced at the ringleader, who was still clutching his stomach. "Course, it looks like you might've roughed 'em up good enough yourself. Anyhow, the name's Adrian. Adrian Parnell. And that stupid sod," he pointed to the ringleader, "is Chance Tanner. You must be the Huntsman's kid. Leon, right?"

Leon nodded in response. "Yeah, that'd be me. Didn't realize I was gonna be so popular down here." Looking back at Chance, Leon said, "You said they do this a lot. How long've you guys been down here?"

Adrian thought for a moment. "I'd say about three weeks, give or take. Kinda hard to tell with no clocks or calendars and only one small, barred up window. Most of us have just been scratching marks on the walls with our best guesses at the days."

Well, that didn't bode well. Living like a mole was not an inviting prospect. "Most of us? How many did others these criminals 'recruit'?"

Adrian just sighed in exasperation. "Look, I know you just got here, but I'm not so used to answering questions," he told Leon, "and you seem to have an infinite supply. How about I just show you the rest of the Pit, and hopefully that'll narrow 'em down. It's over this way." Adrian calmly walked over Chance's body in the indicated direction. Rubbing his jaw, Leon stepped on the boy's stomach and got another yelp in response before following.

Adrian led him into another room, one that was much larger than the entry room he'd been ambushed in. But other than the size, the dozen torn-up cots bolted to the walls and the intimidating stalactites looming over the area like malicious daggers, this room was identical to the last. Same rough red walls, same smooth red floor. As to be expected with a near-windowless room, natural light was quite scarce and the only other light source was a small floodlight sitting in a corner with a couple bulbs shattered.

Gathered around the open entrance was a motley group of about seven other boys. They all appeared as if they'd just gone dumpster diving, with filthy clothes that were somewhat torn and grime-slathered faces. It seemed as if Adrian was the only one who bothered to do anything with his hair, as each of the other boys left his shaggy and unkempt like Chance's. Also of note was the fact that not one of them looked noteworthy at all. Rundown appearances aside, they looked like any group you might see walking down the halls of any academy and instantly forget until you see them again at some later time. All manner of expressions played out across their dirty faces: interested, bored, nervous and suspicious. Nobody offered any introductions, however. Nor did Adrian acknowledge any of them. In fact, the others boys themselves seemed to be split into pairs or standing alone. This group wasn't as tightly knit as Leon had initially thought. Just as well, because competing against a large team would undoubtedly been taxing, if not impossible.

So it was that Adrian just strode past the other boys, Leon following close behind. They had stopped beside the cots when Adrian turned and addressed Leon. "Alright, so each Dweller gets a cot and a footlocker for the few possessions they come across. Hartman claimed that we'd be getting some wooden practice weapons when you got here, so maybe tomorrow. Without those, we've just been doing physical exercises that leave us limp as noodles by nighttime."

Adrian paused for breath, giving Leon enough time to ask one question. "Dwellers? That's what we're called? Really?"

Adrian nonchalantly replied, "Yeah, Pit Dwellers. They say the name adds to our mysterious nature, and that breeds a lot of anticipation with the crowd. Whenever Hartman isn't referring to us as 'maggots', that's what he calls us. Nobody else likes it either, but you might as well get used to it. Anyway, Chance isn't gonna lie on the floor all night, so you might wanna stay alert." At this he hopped into his cot and laid down. "I, on the other hand, am gonna get a few winks in. Wake me if someone's tryin' to kill ya again." Adrian then shut his eyes and appeared to have instantly dozed off.

Leon wasn't sure what to think of Adrian. He seemed friendly, and he did possibly save Leon's life. But at the same time he acted as though he didn't have a care in the world. Leon came to the conclusion that Adrian, for whatever reason, wanted to have him as an ally, but would always look out for himself first. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was preferable to going solo. And Adrian wasn't the only one able to play that game.

At that moment, Leon wanted nothing more than to nod off and get some rest, but he kept Adrian's warning in mind and settled for sitting down on the cot and watching the other boys. Sure enough, Chance and his henchmen stumbled through the entrance and glared hatefully at him and Adrian. But thankfully they did not approach him. Not yet, anyway.

He stayed up for what he thought might have been two hours before he even considered going to sleep. Chance had gotten into his cot, but Leon couldn't be sure if he was really asleep. To check, Leon picked up a nearby red pebble and chucked it over in Chance's direction. It landed with a CLACK by his cot, but Chance didn't show any sign of acknowledgement. Satisfied, Leon collapsed onto his own cot and shut his eyes. He was out within a minute.


Some training camps used horns or sirens to awaken sleepy recruits. Others blew trumpets or hit buckets with batons. Hartman took it a step further and fired a handgun up into the air multiple times. And that thing was loud.

Needless to say, it did its job waking up the Dwellers. As if the gunshots weren't loud enough on their own, the enclosed nature of the pit caused each shot to amplify and echo back. Everyone flew out of their cots as if they'd been poked with a hot branding iron. Hartman sadistically grinned at their terrified shock.

"Did you have a nice nap, maggots!?" he yelled. "I hope so, because I promised to start the training after our final arrival, and I tend to keep my promises!"

If Hartman intended to intimidate Leon with the rude awakening and the high volume of his announcement, then Leon was less than impressed. Neither was Adrian, who just stood there in front of his cot, arms crossed and eyebrows lowered.

"Alright, I want you all to line up side by side in the center, and I want it done five seconds ago!" If Hartman yelled like that all the time, Leon was surprised he never lost his voice.

The other Dwellers scrambled to the center of the room, with Leon and Adrian following close behind.

Everyone was assembled in about fifteen seconds, and once that was done Hartman took the time to glare at each and every one of them individually. Some couldn't hold his gaze and turned their heads away. Many others, however, stared him right back, eye to eye. Leon was no exception. Finally, he spoke. "By now you all should know what it is that goes on here in the Bloody Burrow. We hire gladiators to fight beasts and each other for the entertainment of the masses. Yes, in society this is very much illegal. No, we do not care. The nearest city, Vale, is many, many miles away, and we are well hidden besides. Our audience is composed of only those who we know would never rat us out. Our operations here should never be interrupted." The implication was clear that nobody we knew would know we were here. This place was all we had left. "So what part do you play in all of this? Our current gladiators have shown a decent amount of skill and have provided a decent amount of entertainment. But here at the Burrow, we don't settle for decent. We look at all of you and see untouched lumps of clay. Lumps we can mold into the greatest gladiators of our time. But this life is undeniably dangerous. If you are to survive, you must train constantly, every hour of every day until you are ready to enter the arena. That training will begin today. Right now, in fact. Before we begin combat training, however, I need to know how much you can take. It is time for your first endurance test."

Leon most definitely did not like the sound of that. He was about to say so when he noticed the men with wooden batons standing behind each Dweller. Suddenly apprehensive, Leon turned his head behind him to discern if one was standing behind him as well. Indeed there was, and the man rewarded Leon's awareness by striking him in his back with the baton. The man didn't hold back, and the blow hit with enough force to send Leon sprawling on the floor. As his face hit the ground, Leon saw Adrian gawking at him, his face a mix of astonishment and fear. That look was soon replaced with pain as Adrian and all the other Dwellers were struck in a similar fashion. And once they were all on the floor, the beating continued. Each of the men wailed on the Dwellers, striking them in the arms, legs, back, chest and sometimes the face. Leon attempted to pull his arms over his head, but the man grabbed them, pulled them away and smashed him in the face again. A very tiny voice in the back of his mind told him to fight back, but that voice was drowned out by the thunk of the baton that signaled another eruption of pain. But another voice commanded him to not give in, to stay in it no matter what they threw at him. So Leon gritted his teeth and soldiered through the onslaught. Suddenly, as had happened in his skirmish with Chance, memories of that night boiled into the forefront of his thoughts. Growling fiercely, Leon actually managed to throw a wild punch that hit the man square in the mouth. The man yelled in surprise and pain as his head whipped back. Before Leon could use the distraction, however, the man wiped the blood from his lip and continued his attack, now furious at Leon's insubordination. Leon's anger was once again suppressed by pain.

The room echoed with the cries of the Dwellers for a good two minutes before Hartman barked at them to stop. Leon simply laid there for another minute trying to shut out the pain and not black out. Once he was fairly sure that could be accomplished, he wiped the blood out of his left eye. Looking around, he saw Adrian flung out much like he was. His face had understandably lost its mischievous gleam, replaced by bruises and cuts. Leon could only guess that he looked similar. A few of the other Dwellers were moaning and whimpering, but most were lying still. Surprisingly, Chance wasn't knocked out. Instead, he was groaning and clutching a spot underneath his right eye. A bit of blood was dripping from under his hands and onto the floor.

It was then that Hartman gave another order. "Anyone still conscious stand up now!"

Leon wanted nothing more than to just continue lying on the ground out of both pain and spite. But if this was a test of endurance, then staying conscious would mean nothing without exerting the will to simply stand up. So Leon rolled himself onto his stomach, pressed his hands against the floor and pushed with all he had left in his battered body. And just like that, he was the first one up. Hartman glanced at him, but his cold facial features were a wall that revealed nothing of his thought process. Trailing by a few seconds was Chance, then Adrian, and two other Dwellers after him. And that was it. Nobody on the ground was even stirring.

Now Hartman began clapping slowly with an evil grin on his face. "Congratulations, maggots! You five have just proven to me that you have either the physical conditioning or the extreme willpower required to be superior to the other Dwellers." The grin vanished and was replaced with his normal look of indifference. "Now, then. As a reward for passing this endurance test, you five get to check in with Dr. Owens and have him patch you up a bit. Dismissed!" It took the Dwellers' cloudy minds a moment to process what Hartman had said, which elicited another growl from him. "Well, you all know where the stairs are! Get to it before I change my mind!"

Now they began limping toward the stairway entrance. One of the Dwellers stumbled and fell, and it took a few seconds for him to get back up. Soon Leon lost his footing as well, and almost hit the floor before something caught him and hauled him back up. Turning around, he saw it was Adrian. "C'mon, now. Up ya go." Now Adrian began to collapse Leon's way, but he pushed back so that they were supporting each other.

Before they entered the ramp room, Leon heard Hartman chastise one of the peons. "No, idiot! Leave the rest where they are. They failed the test. So they'll recover on their own or they'll die."

As they trudged their way up to the top of the ramp, the door opened and they saw that Dr. Owens was waiting for them. He noticed Leon in the crowd and gave him an almost imperceptible smile. "Alright, Dwellers. Follow me to the medical ward, and take it easy."

As they made for the doctor's office, Hartman's words finally hit Leon. The knowledge that he might be part of the superior crowd lifted his spirits. Perhaps, Leon thought, I can make a life for myself in here. Maybe there's hope yet.

Then Adrian said to him, "No…sweat, right? Ya think…think it might be uphill from here?"

And Leon replied, "Y'know…I don't think so. But I do think that…no matter what they put in our way, we'll overcome it. This path is all we've got now…and we're gonna see it through to the end."