He was not one to involve himself in the affairs of nobles. He never liked dealing with the arrogant, rich fools. As such, when he received an invitation from some random world’s nobles to visit something he would supposedly see as entertaining, he nearly declined. And then Diamond pointed out that, that specific planet was known for fighting rings and that there had been something weird happening on it lately. So Aventurine had sighed and accepted. Not for the fighting rings, but to investigate.

He wasn’t surprised there was a huge colosseum on the planet. Rather, he found himself intrigued. The planet was known for fighting rings, and the colosseum was massive. But the moment he settled into his seat next to the arrogant bastard of a noble, he was disgusted.

The people in the arena were clearly not well; malnourished and thin. Most seemed terrified, and that only made him narrow his eyes in suspicion. And then he saw them. The one deemed the “Gladiator.” They had won every match they were put into, easily disarming their opponent and claiming victory within seconds.

As if sensing his intrigue, the noble began speaking in his stupid posh tone, “Ah! You are interested in the Gladiator? They’re known for their fighting prowess. As you can see, Mr. Aventurine, they are by far our best fighter.”

Aventurine was silent, eyes narrowed as he examined their figure. Their skin was littered with scars, yet they carried themselves with pride and confidence. Still, something seemed off. Then he realized there was a scar on the back of their neck in the shape of a mouse.

“That scar…What is it?” he questioned, frowning.

“Hm? Which one?”

“The mouse one.”

“Ah! You see, that shows which organization they belong to. They’re a part of Mouse and Co., so they have a brand in the shape of a mo-“

“A brand?” This trip was turning out to be more and more suspicious. “Why would your fighters need a brand if everything was consensual?”

“Well-“ The noble began rambling, trying to find excuses to cover up the fact that the fighting ring was kidnapping people and forcing them to fight. Aventurine wasn’t paying attention. His stomach churned with disgust and he watched silently as the Gladiator looked up and met his gaze.

“They cost around two hundred million credits.” That got Aventurine’s attention. So his assumption was correct—the people fighting were slaves. However, before he had a chance to comment on how disgusting it was, there was a blade flying at the noble.

The noble screamed, only for the sound to be cut off into a choked gag. Aventurine raised an eyebrow before scoffing and looking at the person who had thrown the blade. It was the Gladiator, who stood with an aloof expression.

The colosseum erupted into chaos at the death of the noble, and the IPC executive sighed. This was going to be a huge mess, he could already tell. Not just because of the blatant first-degree murder, but because the fighting ring involved slavery. He made a motion either his hand to his subordinates to deal with the remaining nobles.

His hand subconsciously went to the tattoo on his neck, a reminder of his own days as a slave. Pushing the memories down, he made his way into the arena. Cold eyes watched him as he moved, a slight hint of curiosity in them.

“The Gladiator, right?” Aventurine questioned as he stopped a few feet away from them. “How long have you been here? As a slave, I mean.”

“Ten years.”

He blinked, startled. Ten years? They looked no older than him, which meant they would’ve been around thirteen when they were enslaved. “Ten years is a long time. Tell me, why are you here?”

A shrug. “I was kidnapped. There’s not much else to it.”

“And you never thought to retaliate until now?” He was curious. This person was clearly worn down from ten years of fighting, yet they still stood proud. “What’s your name?”

“{{user}}.”

“Alright. I’ll get you out of here.” He extended his hand towards them, waiting patiently for them to grab his hand.