Rebellious Grey: The Demon Girl Rises from Slavery
In the city of Granveld, where human greed turns flesh into currency, demons are born already condemned. Gurei—thirteen years old, horned, hungry, and utterly alone—has known nothing but the stinking gutters of the Ash Bottom slum. When a bounty hunter's iron grip drags her from the rain-soaked streets into the slave market's cold machinery, she is stripped of her name, her rags, and what little freedom she had left, reduced to nothing more than "property" to be priced and sold.
But something b
Rebellious Grey: The Demon Girl Rises from Slavery - The Exhibition Match—Torn Pride and Innocent Light
The air outside the arena still carried the chill of morning.
Gurei walked three paces behind Varudo. The man's back, clad in his deep crimson coat, was as straight as ever. Every so often he glanced back, casting a look that sized her up like merchandise. Those eyes made no effort to hide what they were thinking.
(I don't like it.)
Gurei muttered it deep in her chest. But she didn't say it aloud. Three years hadn't blunted the beast's fangs. She had simply learned to choose which targets were worth barking at.
On her back hung the executioner's greatsword. A hundred and fifty centimeters of blade. The weight of that woman herself—the legacy of the Queen of Cruel Blades. With every step, Gurei felt that mass biting into her shoulder.
"Today's opponents are the Holy Knights. They carry the kingdom's prestige on their shoulders."
Varudo spoke without turning around.
"I know."
"A royal exhibition match is a formal affair, held before nobles and royalty. And there, a slave gladiator like you challenges a Holy Knight. That's the custom. In plain terms—you're the stalking horse, there to show off how strong the Holy Knights are."
The stalking horse.
In other words, she'd been summoned to lose. To become rust on a Holy Knight's blade. A sacrifice to demonstrate the kingdom's authority before the crowd, before the nobility.
(I don't like it.)
Gurei gritted her teeth.
"What happened to the last stalking horse?"
Varudo didn't look back.
"Died. Got cut down instead. They sent him back covered in blood, collar and all."
"I see."
That was all.
Gurei's feet didn't stop. She might die. But it beat rotting in that underground cage. Crossing blades with a strong opponent—just that alone cleared the sediment from her mind.
The cobblestone road stretched on. The morning market wasn't open yet. Merchants stacking wooden crates in front of their shops caught sight of Gurei's horns and turned their faces away without a shred of subtlety. A demon walking outside the arena. That alone changed the air around everyone on the street.
Gurei returned her gaze forward.
—The special arena.
A circular stadium built in the capital's noble district, reserved for royal exhibition matches. Capacity: three thousand. Less than a third of the Goldbach Arena, but the seats were filled with the kingdom's blood, gold, and power itself.
The outer wall was built of white stone. Flags stirred in the wind. Tents embroidered with the kingdom's crest were pitched on either side of the entrance.
"From here on, my name won't carry any weight. You're merchandise. Keep quiet and obey."
Varudo's voice was low.
Gurei didn't answer.
She passed through the gate.
And in an instant, her field of view opened up.
A sand-covered arena floor. The stands were about seventy percent full, but the people in them were no commoners. Nobles draped in silk and jewels. Their hangers-on. The royal family's seats were sheltered beneath a canopy.
When Gurei stepped onto the sand, a murmur rippled through the stands.
"So that's the demon they talk about."
"She's got horns. Truly beast-like."
"A gladiator, I hear. They say she's killed over a hundred in the arena's slaughter shows."
"Barbaric. But entertaining as a spectacle."
Mockery and curiosity. Gurei ignored them all and walked to the center of the arena.
Varudo, waving affably toward the nobles, took his place beside her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome, welcome. This is the Goldbach Arena's finest—its strongest gladiator. She is called 'Gurei the Defiant.'"
Varudo's voice was smooth as silk, nothing like its usual coldness. The merchant's face. The face that sold goods to nobles.
"Today, we shall see how far this demon gladiator can withstand the skill of the Holy Knights. Please, enjoy a wager or two while you watch."
Light laughter rose from the stands.
Gurei checked the weight of the greatsword on her back.
(A spectacle, is it.)
(I don't like it.)
But that was reality.
The gate on the opposite side swung slowly open.
The Holy Knights.
Silver-white armor. Shields engraved with the kingdom's crest. Longswords at their hips. At the front stood a knight whose blue cape billowed behind him. Behind his visor, his eyes fixed straight on Gurei.
"Third Company of the Holy Knights. I am Werner von Greis."
A low voice that carried well.
"In accordance with the custom of the royal exhibition, I shall cross blades with this demon. In the name of God, I shall demonstrate the sword of justice."
Applause rose from the stands.
Gurei lowered the greatsword from her back and stripped off its sheath.
The hundred-and-fifty-centimeter double-edged blade caught the morning light.
A faint tension rippled through the Holy Knights.
(That greatsword isn't just for show.)
(Her reach is too long.)
That sentiment came through the armor without a word.
Gurei raised the greatsword one-handed.
"...Begin."
Her voice was low.
Werner drew his sword.
"Gladly. Come at me, demon."
—The gong for the match's start rang out.
Werner stepped in. His silver-white armor kicked up sand as he closed. Orthodox swordsmanship. Trained, economical movement. His target: Gurei's right shoulder. A blow meant not to kill, but to disable.
(Naive.)
Gurei shifted half a step to the left.
Werner's blade grazed her hair. A hair's breadth. But it didn't connect.
Gurei's greatsword carved an arc from below.
CLANG!!
She knocked Werner's sword away. The silver knight's arm flew wildly upward. His torso, left wide open.
Gurei drove the pommel of her greatsword into Werner's solar plexus.
"Guh—!"
The impact shot through his armor. Werner's body folded like a hinge.
Gurei slammed the flat of her blade against his back.
BOOM!!
The silver knight sank onto the sand.
The stands fell dead silent.
"Next."
Gurei spoke while looking down at the fallen knight.
A stir ran through the crowd.
"With a single blow...?"
"That Holy Knight, so easily...?"
The smile had vanished from Varudo's face.
"Hey, Gurei. Pull your punches. This is a show."
Gurei didn't answer.
The next Holy Knight stepped forward, sword raised.
"You face me now. I won't let you pull that trick again."
A large man. He held a two-handed sword.
Gurei closed the distance slowly.
(Come.)
(Entertain me.)
The big Holy Knight swung his two-handed sword down.
Gurei caught it on her greatsword and deflected it.
KIIIN!!
Metal on metal. Sparks.
And then Gurei stepped in.
Inside the knight's guard. She drove the pommel of her greatsword up into his jaw.
CRACK!!
His visor burst off. The knight's head snapped back.
Gurei swept the back of his knee with the flat of her blade.
Thud.
The big knight toppled onto his back.
"Next."
The third knight. The fourth.
Gurei struck them down one after another. Knocking swords aside, thrusting into gaps in armor, wrenching joints, dropping them to the ground. She didn't kill them. But she made sure they'd never stand again.
The mood in the stands began to shift.
The mockery faded. The curiosity faded too. What remained was bewilderment, awe, and—
"That demon is the real thing."
"The Holy Knights, treated like children..."
"Did I bet wrong...?"
The fifth Holy Knight appeared on horseback.
A heavy warhorse. Silver-white barding. The knight in the saddle leveled a lance.
"A mere demon dares insult the Holy Knights!"
The warhorse kicked up sand and charged.
A rumble. A cloud of dust. Straight at Gurei.
Gurei didn't move.
She held the greatsword low.
(Come.)
The horse's charge. The lance tip aimed at Gurei's throat.
—Three paces.
—Two paces.
—One pace.
Gurei kicked off the ground.
She slipped past the lance tip by a hair's breadth. She swung the greatsword through the horse's flank.
SHLICK.
The horse's head flew off.
Crimson blood sprayed into the morning sky.
The headless warhorse pitched forward. The knight in the saddle was thrown onto the sand.
"Hii—!"
The unhorsed knight sprawled on the ground, trembling.
"W-wait... I surrender! I surrender!"
The knight screamed.
Gurei walked toward him.
She raised the greatsword.
"Surrender?"
"P-please! Just spare my life...!"
There was no light in Gurei's dark violet eyes.
(I don't like it.)
(He thinks surrender means forgiveness.)
(How many prey surrendered in the arena before now?)
(How many brats begged for their lives?)
(And still they were trampled, whipped, devoured alive?)
(Now that it's his turn, he thought begging would work?)
Gurei started to swing the greatsword down.
—In that instant.
THUD.
A heavy impact from behind.
"Don't move!"
It was the military police. Dark navy cloaks. Silver breast badges. Two of them wrenched Gurei's arms behind her back.
"You... let go of me!"
Gurei thrashed. She gritted her teeth, snarled, tried to tear her arms free. But the officers' hold was skilled. Her joints were locked, and she was forced to the ground.
CRACK—her cheek slammed into the sand.
The taste of sand and blood spread through her mouth.
"Trying to finish off an opponent who surrendered in a royal exhibition. Barbarism befitting a demon."
The officer pressed his boot onto Gurei's head.
(I don't like it.)
Gurei repeated it in her mind, chewing on sand.
The stands were dead silent.
The earlier fervor, the bewilderment, the awe—all gone. What remained was cold silence. The nobles looked down at the demon girl pinned on the sand with expressionless faces.
"To stage a killing in a place like this. It's a blasphemy against God."
"Demons are beasts, no matter what. Give them the title of gladiator, and their nature doesn't change."
"Promoter, isn't your management a bit lax?"
Varudo had gone pale.
"M-my deepest apologies. For such a blunder... it is my failure of supervision."
Varudo bowed deeply. His usual cold, calculating face was gone. Cold sweat traced down his temple.
"Varudo."
One of the nobles called his name in a cold voice.
"This exhibition was supposed to stake the reputation of your arena. And this is the result. The Holy Knights' honor is in tatters. Before the royal family, you've dragged the kingdom's prestige through the mud. How do you intend to take responsibility?"
"Th-that is... I will most certainly, somehow..."
Varudo's voice was trembling.
Gurei listened to the exchange from the sand.
(Serves you right.)
(The man I can't stand is being cornered.)
(But I'm the same.)
The officer's boot dug into the back of Gurei's head.
"And what shall we do with you? Behead you here, or keep you chained in the dungeons for life?"
Gurei didn't answer.
Answering would be pointless.
She waited for punishment.
Pinned on the sand.
The nobles' cold stares. The humiliating restraint of the officers. The taste of blood in her mouth.
(Be free.)
Kain's voice echoed from the depths of memory.
(Be free—and then what?)
Serafina's question followed.
(I couldn't become free.)
(Is this where I end?)
—And then it happened.
"Um, excuse me."
A voice so bright it seemed out of place echoed through the silent arena.
Gurei raised her face.
The front row of the stands. Right near the royal seats.
A boy stood there.
About thirteen. Soft-looking brown hair. Round eyes. Small for his age, and his clothes weren't of this world. Strange designs, unfamiliar materials.
Smiling cheerfully, the boy descended onto the arena sand.
"Hey, you. What are you doing? This area is restricted to—"
The officer tried to stop him, but the boy paid no mind.
"Hey, that person won, right?"
The boy pointed at Gurei.
"If she won, then arresting her is weird. She's the strongest, so she's the one who's right, isn't she?"
An innocent voice.
The nobles around him were baffled.
"Th-this one is violating the customs of the royal exhibition—"
"But she won, didn't she?"
The boy tilted his head.
"Punishing the winner is strange. I don't really get it, but the strong can't lose, and the strong are right, right?"
The nobles were speechless.
"Who are you?"
"Me? I'm Yuuto. I'm the hero."
The
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