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 - Blood-Stained Dream — A Promise to Sever the Trembling Blade and Hesitation
The smell of blood had soaked into the arena's underbelly again today.
Water dripped from the stone walls, each drop landing with a cold, hollow sound. Gurei sat huddled in the dim cell, her knees drawn up to her chest. The weight of the collar bit into her throat. The black iron ring was cold and heavy—by now, it felt like another part of her body.
(I don't hate Kain.)
(And yet, somehow, I can't stand it.)
The thought burned somewhere deep in her chest.
How many days had passed since she killed those four men? She didn't know the exact number. Time lost its shape underground. She could only estimate by counting the times meals were brought. The wound on her shoulder had closed, but every time she drew a deep breath, an old ache throbbed dully somewhere behind her ribs.
"Gurei, are you awake?"
A small voice came from the cage next to hers.
Gurei lifted her head slowly.
"...I'm awake."
Her voice was dry. Her throat was parched. Water came once a day, and only a little—and even that depended on the guard's mood.
"Hey, Gurei. I've been thinking about something."
Kain's voice was soft as always, with just a hint of excitement.
"About what?"
"When I get bigger, I want to become a gladiator."
Gurei frowned at his words.
"...A gladiator."
"Yeah. I'll become a gladiator, win lots of fights, and make lots of money. Then I can be free, right? And then I want to leave this arena—together with you, Gurei."
Kain's voice was innocent.
As if it were a dream that could easily come true.
Gurei was silent for a while.
In the dim cell, only the feel of the cold stone floor dominated her senses. Kain's voice echoed strangely warm against that coldness.
"...Are you an idiot?"
Gurei spoke low.
"Huh?"
"Become a gladiator and you'll be free? It's not that simple. Gladiators are just disposable entertainment. The ones up top keep you alive on a whim and kill you on a whim. Freedom never existed in the first place."
Her words were sharp and cold.
But beneath them, another emotion was mixed in—and Gurei herself noticed it.
(I don't want to crush his dream.)
(But don't show me your dreams.)
(The ones who dream are the first to die.)
Gurei bit her lip.
"...I see."
Kain's voice grew a little quieter.
"But I still want to leave this place with you, Gurei. That hasn't changed."
Kain's words didn't tremble.
They were quiet and certain.
Gurei couldn't say anything.
(Comrades, huh.)
Deep in her chest, the word echoed faintly.
She didn't need comrades.
She couldn't rely on anyone.
To survive in this arena, she had to take everything and kill everything on her own.
She repeated it in her heart, over and over.
But there was a part of her that couldn't let Kain's voice slip past her ears.
A part of her that couldn't forget it.
Gurei closed her eyes.
(I can't stand it.)
(His voice, his dream, his smile—)
(I shouldn't hate them... and yet—)
(I can't stand any of it.)
Even as she thought so, she carved Kain's voice deep into her heart.
Several days later.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the underground passage.
Beyond the iron bars stood the jailer. In his hand was not the usual club but a sheet of parchment. He stopped in front of Gurei's cage and glared down at her.
"Hey, Gurei. We need to talk."
The jailer's voice was low and flat.
Gurei stayed leaning against the wall and glared back at him.
"...What?"
"The promoter, Lord Varudo, has a proposition for you. He's asking if you'd like to become a slave gladiator."
Gurei's eyes widened slightly.
A slave gladiator.
A status that offered the possibility of earning freedom if you kept winning. It was different from being fodder. As a gladiator, she'd be given proper equipment and food. And above all—
"...What are the conditions?"
Gurei asked shortly.
The jailer grinned.
"Quick to the point. I like that. Here's the deal. In the next main event, kill Godos of the Trident. Do that, and I'll have you promoted to slave gladiator. That guy's been losing a lot lately. The crowd's getting bored of him. We need a new spectacle around here."
Godos of the Trident.
A human gladiator who wielded a three-pronged spear.
Gurei had heard the name before. A man who had basked in cheers from the arena seats many times. But lately he'd been on a losing streak, and his betting odds had dropped.
"...Fine. I'll take it."
Gurei answered immediately.
There was no hesitation.
Promotion to slave gladiator. It was a solid step toward surviving in this arena.
"Glad you're quick to agree. But there's one more thing."
The jailer's voice dropped lower.
Gurei looked at him without a word.
"An opening act. Before the main event, there's an undercard match. And in that undercard, there's someone you're going to kill."
The jailer unfolded the parchment.
"The demon kid in the next cage. Kain, I think he's called. He jumped in to help you during your last match, didn't he? That's interference in a match by a menial—so his punishment's been decided. He'll be the undercard fodder. Killed by you."
Gurei's breathing stopped.
Her lungs ceased to move entirely.
"...What did you say?"
Her voice was a rasp.
"Didn't you hear me? That brat gets killed by you in the undercard. He's the stepping stone for your promotion to slave gladiator. Now get ready. The match is tomorrow."
With that, the jailer tossed the parchment into the cage and walked away.
Gurei stood frozen in place.
Her fists clenched, slowly, tightly.
Nails bit into her palms.
Blood welled up.
"...Kill Kain, you're saying."
A low growl escaped her lips.
She hadn't been given a choice.
The path to becoming a slave gladiator continued only over Kain's corpse.
Gurei slammed her clenched fist against the iron bars.
A cold clang echoed through the underground passage.
"...I can't stand it."
Her voice was trembling.
Was it anger, or sorrow, or something else entirely?
Even Gurei herself didn't know.
The day of the match.
The arena was packed again today.
The spectator seats were filled with nobles and commoners, men and women, old and young. Everyone's eyes gleamed with hunger for the bloodshed about to begin.
Gurei stood before the door to the underground passage.
In her hand, she gripped a short sword. A crude lump of iron with a thirty-centimeter blade. The usual fodder's short sword.
"...Let's go."
The attendant opened the door.
Brilliant light and thunderous cheers came crashing into the underground passage.
Gurei stepped out onto the sand.
Across the arena, she could see Kain being led out.
Grayish hair. Pale purple eyes. Small horns just beginning to grow.
Kain was trembling.
The short sword in his hand rattled audibly.
"Gurei... Gurei, why..."
Kain's voice was choked with tears.
Gurei said nothing.
There was no way she could answer.
"Are you... going to kill me?"
Tears spilled from Kain's pale purple eyes.
Gurei tightened her grip on the short sword.
(Kill and move forward.)
(Become a slave gladiator.)
(Get one step closer to freedom.)
A cold resolve echoed through her mind, over and over.
But somewhere else, apart from that resolve, another voice was screaming.
(I don't want to kill Kain.)
(He said my horns were cool.)
(He said he wanted to leave this place with me.)
(He is my—)
"Begin!"
The referee's voice rang out across the arena.
Kain, trembling, raised his short sword and charged.
"U, aaaaaah!"
Kain's attack was that of an amateur.
His aim, his strength—everything about it was a mess.
Gurei silently parried.
She flicked his short sword aside with her own.
Kain stumbled.
Gurei didn't go on the offensive.
She simply kept deflecting Kain's attacks.
"U, aah! Why! Why won't you attack!?"
Kain swung his short sword wildly, crying.
Gurei silently kept dodging.
From the spectator seats, insults rained down.
"Hey, what are you doing! Kill him already!"
"Two demon brats playing around up there!"
"Toying with him? That's fine too, but I want blood!"
The crowd interpreted Gurei's behavior as toying with her prey.
But inside, Gurei was nothing like that.
(Kill and move forward.)
(I don't want to kill.)
(Kill and be free.)
(I don't want to lose Kain.)
The two emotions clashed violently within her.
Her grip on the short sword tightened.
Then loosened.
Tightened again.
Loosened again.
Over and over.
Kain's attacks gradually weakened.
His breath ran short, his feet tangled, and he had no strength left to swing the sword.
"Hah... hah... Gurei... please..."
Kain finally collapsed onto the sand.
The short sword slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
The spectator seats took up the chant in unison.
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Thousands of voices shook the arena.
Gurei stood before Kain.
Her short sword still raised.
She couldn't move.
(I can't kill him.)
(I can't kill this one.)
Her hand was trembling.
That was when it happened.
Kain, barely breathing, looked up at Gurei.
His pale purple eyes, wet with tears, still looked straight at her.
"Gurei..."
Kain's voice was faint.
"Become a gladiator... become free..."
Kain wove the words with trembling lips.
"Live... for my sake too..."
Those words severed Gurei's hesitation.
(He's telling me to be free.)
(He's telling me to live.)
(For my sake.)
Gurei's vision blurred.
It wasn't tears.
It wasn't anger, or sorrow.
Just something hot coursing through her entire body.
"—U, AAAAAAAAAAH!!"
A scream that was neither a war cry nor a wail echoed across the arena.
Gurei drove the short sword into Kain's chest.
A wet, sickening sound.
Hot blood soaked her hand.
Kain's body jerked once.
"Gure... i..."
Kain's lips called her name one last time.
Then the light faded from his pale purple eyes.
Gurei pulled the short sword from Kain's chest.
Blood sprayed.
The spray splattered across her face, her hair, her horns.
"UWAAAAAAAH!!"
The spectator seats erupted.
"He did it! That brat killed his own comrade!"
"Incredible! Demons killing each other! This is what I wanted to see!"
"That makes him a slave gladiator! Can't wait for the main event!"
The cheers and jeers of the crowd reached Gurei's ears from far away.
She stood frozen before Kain's body.
Kain's blood clung to her right hand.
The brand on her chest felt searingly hot.
(Kain.)
(You told me to be free.)
(You told me to live.)
(Then I'll live.)
(I'll live for your sake too, become free, and take everything back.)
Gurei gripped the blood-soaked short sword tightly.
"...Your dream. I'll make it come true."
Her voice was so small and faint that no one could hear it.
Then the referee's voice rang out across the arena.
"The undercard match—winner, Gurei! Next, the main event begins! Gurei, you'll face Godos, wielder of the Trident! Prepare yourself!"
Gurei raised her head slowly.
In her dark purple eyes, there were no tears.
Only a deep darkness and a burning rage.
Still gripping the blood-stained short sword, she walked toward the center of the arena.
Kain's blood left a trail of spots on the sand.
The brand on her chest ached.
(Next is the wielder of the Trident.)
(Kill.)
(Kill and become a slave gladiator.)
(And someday, take everything back.)
Within Gurei's heart, a cold resolve hardened with a sound.
The arena's frenzy enveloped her.
The smell of blood spray was thick enough to choke on.
Kain's last words echoed over and over in the depths of her ears.
"Become a gladiator, become free."
Those words pierced deep, deep into her heart.
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.