《The Soulforged One》


 Marisol Isle

    Somewhere within the vast territory of the Wesland Kingdom.


    There was an island called Marisol Island¡ªa dumping ground for the unwanted, nameless refugees, and runaway slaves who were eventually recaptured and forced back into servitude.


    The crime rate on this island was sky-high due to rampant poverty and the kingdom''s lack of attention.


    Here, the law did not belong to the king or the kingdom. Law only applied to those strong enough to enforce it¡ªmafia, ruling nobles, mercenaries, and wealthy merchants.


    And among them, the weak were nothing but slaves, and they would always remain slaves. Escaping the clutches of poverty required generations of struggle. But to fall into it, only one generation was enough.


    At the heart of the city, hidden underground, there was an arena where cruelty became entertainment. Dim oil lamps hung on stone walls, casting dancing shadows over the sand-covered floor, stained with blood and sweat.


    Evran stood in the center of the arena, his body tense. Around him, iron bars trapped him with his opponent. Wild cheers echoed from outside the cage, creating a symphony of brutality. Bets were placed, and the bloodthirsty audience roared, demanding a vicious spectacle.


    This wasn''t his first fight, but it could very well be his last.


    One loss meant death. If lucky, you''d only lose a limb or be left crippled¡ªwhich, in the end, still meant death.


    Drums rumbled, signaling the start of the fight.


    Before him stood a boy, another slave fighter. He was slightly larger than Evran, which could be a problem¡ªbut not an impossible one.


    Muscle mass did affect the strength of punches, but in street fights, unpredictability was everything.


    The boy attacked first. He was fast and strong, but Evran was ready. He ducked and swung to the side, dodging the first blow. His opponent struck again, this time faster and more vicious.


    A fist shot toward his jaw¡ªEvran narrowly avoided it. Protecting vital points was key to survival!


    Evran countered with a jab aimed at his opponent''s head. Pain shot through his knuckles as his fist collided with the boy''s hard skull.


    ''Stubborn bastard!'' Evran cursed inwardly.


    Not stopping there, he launched a flurry of jabs, combined with hooks and uppercuts. The two slaves exchanged brutal blows, driving the crowd into a frenzy as they watched them tear each other apart.


    Sweat and blood dripped. Evran''s hands began to ache after throwing so many punches. He was in bad shape¡ªhis face was bruised, his nose bleeding, and his forehead split open from his opponent''s fist. But his opponent wasn''t in much better condition, his body covered in cuts and bruises from Evran''s attacks.


    ''Some martial arts from my past life really help in this world,'' Evran thought.


    His opponent paused to catch his breath before lunging again. But Evran was quicker, dodging most of the strikes and retaliating with powerful blows. Every time his fists landed, the boy''s flesh and fat rippled violently.


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    Then, a perfectly timed uppercut slammed into his opponent''s chin, sending him staggering backward. Evran rushed in to finish him, but just before his punch landed, the boy spun and delivered a powerful kick to his head. Evran stumbled and crashed to the side.


    Both fell to the ground, struggling to gather strength.


    "Damn it, this bastard still managed a counterattack even when half-conscious," Evran muttered, wincing from the pain.


    His opponent got up first and immediately attacked again. This time, he changed his strategy.


    Realizing he couldn''t win in a striking match, he closed the distance and tried to grapple Evran.


    He eventually managed to wrap his arms around Evran''s neck, bringing him down and pinning him under his weight.


    "Shit¡­ looks like I''ll have to do it again," Evran mumbled before his strength was completely drained.


    With a swift, nearly imperceptible motion, Evran pulled a tiny needle from his pants and jabbed it into his opponent''s neck. No one noticed amidst the chaos of the battle.


    His opponent tightened his grip on Evran''s throat, forcing him to struggle desperately. His vision blurred.


    ''Damn, I should''ve stabbed him sooner!'' Evran thought.


    The crowd continued to chant wildly. "Kill him! Kill!"


    One minute passed¡­


    Three minutes passed¡­


    Finally, his opponent''s body weakened. He moved as if he was about to rise as the victor.


    But in the end, it was Evran who got up first, shoving his opponent off him.


    "Shit, I really almost died this time."


    The audience fell silent for a moment before erupting into deafening cheers. They didn''t care who lived or died¡ªas long as their bets were placed.


    Evran staggered out of the arena, his body battered, his neck red from strangulation.


    Outside the arena, Noah, one of the mafia members managing the underground fights, was already waiting.


    "I thought you were done for. Turns out, you always have your little tricks, huh? But you know, one day, those tricks won''t be enough to save you," Noah said casually.


    "I know that better than anyone," Evran replied flatly.


    "Good. Now, onto business. That fight was worth 15 gold coins. You get 20%, so here''s 3 gold for you."


    Evran took the coins and asked, "How many days can I rest?"


    "Two days, no more. If you ask for longer, that old bastard will kill me."


    "Alright," Evran muttered, leaving to tend to his wounds.


    If he couldn''t recover quickly and start earning again, he''d be back to begging like before. And he hated that. I don''t like receiving pity from others!


    "I used to be a man of pride, but now I''m nothing but a slave. Damn it."


    Frustrated, he carefully hid his gold coins, ensuring no one could rob him. In this hell, even fellow mafia members wouldn''t hesitate to steal.


    Finally, he reached his cramped room. He had secured this place by working under The Butcher Gregor, a high-ranking mafia enforcer who controlled the underground arena, illegal weapon trade, and recruitment. By working for Gregor, Evran had the chance to fight in the arena. It was dangerous, but for him, it was still better than begging and stealing.


    Evran wasn''t officially part of the mafia. He was still a slave. As long as he kept making money, he had a bit of freedom¡ªlike now. He earned 3 gold coins and got two days off. But was it worth it? Was his life really only worth 3 gold coins?


    "Damn¡­ I''ll deal with this frustration later. There''s nothing I can do to fight these mafias now. No point wasting energy on anger."


    Once inside his room, Evran pulled out the 3 gold coins from his ass¡ªyes, he hid his gold there. At least it was the safest place he could think of. The thieves and muggers never searched his ass when they frisked him¡ªat least, not yet.


    Taking out the coins, Evran carefully stored them in his stash. His savings now amounted to 9 gold, 11 silver, and 20 bronze. A decent amount for a slave.


    Over his four months here, he had learned the currency values:


    1 gold = 20 silver1 silver = 50 bronze


    ''And there''s also a higher denomination called platinum. From what I''ve heard, 1 platinum = 10 gold. I don''t know¡ªI''ve never even seen a platinum coin before.''


    Just as he was about to treat his wounds, his door suddenly slammed open.


    A girl stood in the doorway, 168 cm tall, with long, messy jet-black hair and blood-red eyes. Her gaze was filled with exhaustion and worry. Her body was slender, her skin flushed pink from frequent exposure to the sun.


    "Valeria?"

 Chains and Memories

    "Valeria?"


    Valeria entered hastily, then slapped Evran''s cheek lightly. Her eyes glistened with tears, and her voice trembled.


    "You bastard! You said you wouldn¡¯t fight in the underground arena again! Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought you were really dead!"


    Evran looked at her for a moment before asking curiously, "You watched it? What were you doing there?"


    As she examined Evran¡¯s wounds, Valeria answered, "Yeah, Madam Lynette sent me to handle something there."


    Evran clicked his tongue in irritation. "Tch, stay away from that woman. She¡¯s dangerous. You should keep a low profile and avoid drawing her attention, okay?"


    "Yeah, yeah, I get it," Valeria sighed. "But why are you still fighting in the underground arena, Evran? Didn¡¯t we agree to escape from this hell together? If you die before that happens, I¡¯ll never forgive you!"


    Even as she scolded him, Valeria quickly took out her medical supplies and began treating his wounds.


    "Precisely because I want to escape, I joined Gregor¡¯s ranks and started fighting there," Evran replied calmly. "We need a higher position, or we won¡¯t have the slightest chance. Besides, fighting there hones my strength."


    Valeria glared at him as she cleaned a wound on his head. "And what if you die before that? You know better than anyone how close death is in that place."


    Evran gave a faint smile. "If I die, so be it. But if I survive, I¡¯ll grow stronger. Better to die there than live forever as a slave. Someone has to take the risk."


    Suddenly, a sharp pain spread through his wounded head, making Evran groan. "Ahh! What the hell, Vale?!"


    Valeria snorted. "You talk about death like it¡¯s nothing. Have you ever thought about how others would feel if you died? If you don¡¯t care about your own life, then don¡¯t act all wise next time when you stop me from killing myself!"


    Evran fell silent. Her words struck deep. He remembered a few months ago when he had stopped Valeria from ending her own life. Back then, he had spoken with conviction, saying that if someone wanted to die, they should at least do it in a way that would hurt the mafia. And now, here he was, speaking as if his own life had no value.


    Irony. He laughed bitterly at himself.


    After treating the wound on his head, Valeria moved on to the rest of his injuries. Her hands were skilled, her touch gentle. Evran¡¯s abdominal muscles, though not well-defined, were at least noticeable¡ªdry and lean, the result of both hard labor and malnutrition.


    As she treated a wound on his stomach, Valeria asked, "Since when did your body start looking like this? I remember just two months ago, you were still a scrawny beggar."


    Evran smirked. "So, you like it? If you do, you can be the first to touch it anytime you want."


    Valeria glanced at him with an unimpressed look. "The first? Haha, your opponents in the arena touch it every day before me."


    Evran shuddered at the thought. Teasing Valeria was not easy. She was too sharp and always had a quick comeback. In the four months he had known her, he had lost to her more times than he could count.


    After finishing the treatment, Valeria looked at him seriously. "Alright, I¡¯ve patched you up. Now get some rest. And one more thing, Evran¡­ don¡¯t do everything alone. You can always rely on me."


    With that, she stood up and left, leaving Evran alone in his room. As he lay down on the cold, thin mattress, he began reflecting on the past four months of his life.


    From what I can remember, I was just an ordinary chemical engineering student on Earth. I had a happy family, a peaceful life, and nothing truly remarkable about me.


    I lived in a country where people were a bit ridiculous, but life was comfortable. That¡¯s why I was so shocked when I suddenly got thrown into this harsh and brutal world. I still don¡¯t know exactly how or when I was transported here.


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    Did I die in my previous world and reincarnate into this one? Or was this transmigration? Because I wasn¡¯t reborn¡ªI simply took over another body in a different world.


    I... miss my old world. I miss the comfort of home, the feeling of living without constant fear. I want to go back. I want to see my family again. I want to joke around with my college friends like I used to.


    But that¡¯s just an empty dream.


    Ever since I woke up in this body four months ago, I haven¡¯t found a single clue about this transmigration.


    This body belongs to a fifteen-year-old slave named Evran Eldrake. His name is even similar to mine¡ªEvan. It seems he had just died, and somehow, I took over his body. When I first woke up, my head throbbed from the flood of memories of this body¡¯s previous owner.


    From those memories, I learned that Evran was an orphan. His mother died in a war in another country, while his father and older brother fled as refugees to the Kingdom of Westland.


    As they tried to escape by ship, pirates attacked. His nineteen-year-old brother was gravely injured in the battle and fell into the dark ocean, which was filled with anomalies and monsters. Evran and his father barely managed to reach Marisol Isle, a stopover before reaching the Westland mainland.


    However, shortly after arriving, his father met a tragic end¡ªnot due to war or a great disaster, but simply bad luck. He happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time during a mafia skirmish.


    What a tragic life. I used to complain about my so-called misfortunes, but compared to the previous owner of this body, I had no right to complain at all.


    In this world, the weak don¡¯t even own their fate.


    After losing his father, Evran ended up as a street kid and eventually fell into the hands of the mafia, becoming a slave. He was forced to beg, steal, and endure brutal punishment if he failed to meet his daily quota. In the end, his body gave up. He died from the unbearable labor and abuse.


    And then I woke up in this body.


    This body was incredibly frail at first, barely 163 cm tall¡ªshorter than Valeria. His eyes were gray, his black hair dull and messy. His pale skin stretched over a thin, malnourished frame covered in bruises and scars.


    I was forced to live through the hell that the previous Evran left behind. Begging, stealing, and if I failed to collect at least two silver coins per day, I would be taken to the torture room.


    I still remember it vividly¡ªthe searing pain when my fingernails were ripped out one by one. The suffocating sensation when they held me underwater, my lungs screaming for air. Every lash of the whip on my back left scars that reminded me just how cheap a slave¡¯s life was.


    I had never experienced such suffering in my previous life.


    Each day felt like hell. I had to beg, get beaten, and endure torture. When I was on the verge of giving up, my fellow beggars helped me.


    Valeria, Dorn, and Kai¡ªthey were the ones who kept me going. Now, Dorn and Kai had become mid-tier fighters in the underground arena. This world may be cruel, but there are still good people.


    Nothing from my previous life could help me in this ruthless world.


    People in my old world often fantasized about how fun it would be to start a new life in a magical world. Adventuring, having romantic encounters, and experiencing all sorts of exciting things.


    "IT¡¯S ALL BULLSHIT!"


    They were merely indulging in fantasies to satisfy their imagination. In reality, life never goes according to our expectations. Did they think they were the main characters? That the world revolved around them, as if it was created solely for them to look cool and impress girls, like in the stories they read?


    Evran felt emotions swirling in his head as he thought about this.


    "Ungrateful fools. Living peacefully on Earth is an invaluable blessing."


    The truth is, the world never cares about us. Whether we live, die, suffer, or rejoice, the world remains indifferent. If you are sad and despair, the world will not stop spinning to wait for you to rise again. If you live or die, the world continues to turn as usual.


    The odds of survival for modern Earth humans in this new world are incredibly slim. Imagine¡ªthose who once enjoyed a safe, comfortable life, pampered by technology, suddenly thrown into this world, alone and without any knowledge. A world where civilization has taken a different path due to the existence of magic, a world filled with monsters and unknown dangers.


    That is exactly what I am experiencing now.


    I am not a warrior, not an adventurer, and I do not even have the talent for combat. But there is one thing I believe¡ªmy freedom and fate lie in my own hands. If I want to escape this place, I must fight for it.


    From that moment on, I began training my body and fighting in underground arenas. It was risky, but I had no other choice.


    The underground arena in Black Hollow, the capital of Marisol Isle, was divided into four main classes based on the level of brutality and the rewards.


    Iron Class was the lowest level, where children and weaklings were forced to fight. They were only allowed to use their bare hands or light blunt weapons. The prize money was small, ranging from five to twenty silver coins per fight.


    Above that was the Bronze Class, where more experienced fighters began to battle with blunt weapons and engage in free combat. The rewards in this class were greater, ranging from five to twenty gold coins. I was currently in this class.


    Then there were Silver Class and Gold Class. Dorn was a fighter in the Silver Class.


    And that was everything that had happened since I woke up in this body. Until now, I was still a slave.


    As Evran reflected on his life over the past four months, he unconsciously felt tears streaming down his cheeks.


    He encouraged himself in his heart. You¡¯ve done well, Evran. Just hold on a little longer. Surely, after hardship comes ease.


    ¡°Damn it, I¡¯m crying¡­ How pathetic.¡±


    Men don¡¯t talk. They always appear strong in front of others, but when they¡¯re alone, they always overthink.


    Eventually, Evran fell into a deep sleep, preparing himself for the next day¡ªone that might be even worse than today.