Welcome to Hell!

I felt hungry.
I haven’t been fed for days now, all because of Georg.
That old man claims that I could perform my best when in a state of starvation, so he stopped giving me food few days before each match.

His torturous training methods and nonsensical beliefs haven’t changed in the past two years.
In fact, they’ve only escalated.
That guy never gives me a reason not to want to kill him… He was truly detestable.

Regardless, the next day was the match, and after that, I could say goodbye to an empty stomach for a while.
The hungrier I was, the better the food would taste afterward, even though it was mixed with all sorts of poisonous pollutants, metals, and mysterious substances.

Moreover, in these two years, I’ve gained a resistance to hunger, or rather, I’ve learned how to control my own appetite.
I spent my time training to control my fighting spirit and spiritual power independently.
If I were to enhance my fighting spirit or spiritual power without Georg’s permission, I’d feel a constriction that felt like being choked, but, even in the midst of pain during battles, I persevered and continued training because I believed that it would improve my fighting skills.

All of this was done for my mission to “survive for a hundred years”.
My desperate efforts have borne fruit, and now I have acquired delicate control over my fighting spirit and spiritual power.
I discovered that with these skills, it was possible to control both my senses and emotions.

No matter how severe the pain was, I could immediately block it and move normally.
I could also calm down and act rationally even when feeling anger or impatience.
Conversely, I could also feel sad for no reason or develop a desire for inanimate objects like cages, although I never actually acted on these impulses.

Moreover, this delicate control technique was very useful in actual combat.
It allowed me to maximize my strength with minimal fighting spirit, and I never ran out of fighting spirit even in prolonged battles.
I could also perform advanced techniques with ease, such as focusing my fighting spirit on a single point like my poisonous stinger.

The power of my spiritual art has also increased, and the time it took to generate it has been significantly reduced.
Although it was a mundane skill acquired through diligent training, it was also a technique that helped me win.

Anyway, thanks to all of this, even if the slave were to appear when I was hungry, I wouldn’t even twitch an inch.
I wouldn’t expose myself to the same humiliation I suffered two years ago.
I would simply welcome her as usual.

“Excuse me.”

After knocking on the door, the slave entered the basement.
It wasn’t surprising since I could hear her footsteps approaching.
I wagged my tail slightly to show my welcome.
It had been two years since I started honing my skills, but for some reason, I still couldn’t communicate telepathically.
So, I had no choice but to express myself through gestures and body language.
If only I had asked Woodsorrel for some tips… but I didnt, and this is why I was struggling.

Although her face was covered in bandages, the female slave had learned to laugh at my comical movements.
It made me happy, so I tried to act funny whenever I could.
Perhaps to the slave, I appeared as a jester.
Even if that was the case, I didn’t mind.

“Sorry, there is no food today as well,” the slave said apologetically.
However, this wasn’t a problem, as I already knew there wouldn’t be any.
I didn’t mind and just continued to move my claws up and down.
The chains clanked and made a loud noise every time I moved, so I tried to keep my movements small.

I didn’t really care, but it seemed that the slave did.
She took something out of her pocket and placed it in front of me.
My knowledge told me that the brown, round object was bread—a type of food made by kneading and baking grain flour.

“Here.
It’s not much, but I’ll give you some,” the slave said.

Perhaps she pitied me for being forced to fast for days straight, as she had hidden her own bread to share with me.
While her gesture made me happy, it also made me feel guilty, knowing that the slave’s food supply was already limited.

As a result, I decided to take only a little less than half.
I split the hard bread into two with my pincers, keeping one half for myself and returning the other to the slave.
Despite saying that she would give me all of it, the slave also seemed hungry and started nibbling on the bread without saying a word.

The taste of the bread was not as bad as I had expected.
I appreciated that there were no pollutants mixed in, like deadly poisons or metal fragments.
Lost in thought, I continued to gnaw on the bread.

After eating together, the slave cleaned the cage and then started polishing my exoskeleton.
Yesterday’s training didn’t make me very dirty, but the slave always took care to clean my body thoroughly, no matter what.

“Yo-heave-ho, Yo-heave-ho… ah!”

As the slave polished my exoskeleton, a small, satisfying crack sound was made as a part of my exoskeleton fell off.
Oh, was it time for molting already?

Although I could regenerate any lost parts due to molting, it was better for me to molt after matches.
But this could not be helped, as I could not control the timing of my molting, even though I had learned to control my senses and emotions through training.

Wait, hold on.
Why was I assuming that I could not do it from the beginning? I had never even tried it before.
If I could manipulate my mental processes, it was natural to think that I could control my physical processes as well by improving my control techniques, couldn’t I?

If it were possible, it might be able to hypertrophy muscles, adjust the timing of molting, and even activate the body to maintain youthfulness.
If one were to reach such a state, could it be possible to live beyond a hundred years, surpassing one’s lifespan?

I trembled with a sense of enlightenment.
Who would have thought that hints for fulfilling my mission would be lying around here? Every time I shuddered, the exoskeleton rattled and fell off.
The slave looked at me with a worried expression.

“You’re shivering… Are you okay? Are you cold?”

Perhaps mistaking my shuddering for cold, the slave hesitated for a moment before embracing me.
Her face, peering through the bandages, was flushed.
She must be trying to warm me up with her own body heat, but if it was embarrassing, she didn’t have to force herself.

Having shared her food with me, the slave was truly kind.
Without being emotionally healed by this kindness, I might not have been able to continue fighting for two years.
Alright, I’ll make something to express my gratitude! It might hurt a bit, but I’m used to the pain from training!

First, I used my pincers and legs to gather the fallen exoskeleton shells in one place.
Then, I begin to transform them using spiritual art.
I recalled the sight of my friend, the Popi race, with darkish brown hair, creating miniature figurines of me.

(Infusing spiritual power and changing their form… it’s harder than I thought.
Perhaps my exoskeleton is too rigid? My friend did it so easily, then again, the Popi memebers are known for their dexterity.)

It was difficult for me to shape them as delicately as my friend did, but with some effort, I could change their form to a certain degree.
Alright, let’s do this!

Hmm, I’ve pumped myself up, but what should I make? Giving presents to slaves was not allowed because they were not permitted to own property.

Therefore, I couldn’t make anything too large.
I once impulsively gave my stinger as a gift, but it went unnoticed because she hid it inside her bandages.
So, something small and inconspicuous would be ideal.

(Maybe something that can be hidden in bandages is good after all.
Then…how about this?)

I selected a relatively small piece from the peeled exoskeleton and infused it with spiritual power.
As a result, the exoskeleton transformed into thin fibers resembling hair.
I then used my pincers to cut them into appropriate dimensions, bundled them together, and spun them into thread.

I manipulated the resulting threads to form a loop and tried to connect the ends, but it didn’t work well.
So I made a small, deformed scorpion to cover the joint.
There, now the bracelet is complete.

I often saw wealthy female spectators in the arena wearing bracelets, so I took inspiration from them.
The ones they wore were made of sparkling metal, while mine was made of my own exoskeleton material and was entirely black.
However, it had a unique luster that distinguished it from metal.

I think this is a decent product.
I don’t know much about the values of the Furu race, but I know they appreciate rare things.
They are the type to appreciate spectacles like the “Battle Beast Tournament.”

“Wow… it’s beautiful….”

“Kishiki”

“Eh… are you giving this to me?”

The slave exclaimed as she gazed at the bracelet I had created.
It seemed she was quite mesmerized by it.
She let out a sigh of admiration while still clinging to me, and I offered the bracelet to her.

Timidly, the slave accepted the bracelet and immediately put it on her left wrist.
She looked delighted, smiling happily as she examined the bracelet from various angles.
Seeing my benefactor pleased made me happy too.

“Thank you, Mr.
Scorpion.
I’ll treasure it,” the slave said gratefully.

For a while, she gazed at the bracelet before loosening a bandage and wrapping it around her wrist.
Now, it was impossible to tell whether she was wearing the bracelet or not.
Although the bandage seemed painful, it was the perfect way to conceal things like that.

Afterwards, the slave returned to her daily tasks.
If there was anything different, it was that during her work, she expressed gratitude towards me instead of discussing events in the mansion.
If she was so pleased, then it was definitely worth creating the bracelet.

Throughout her work, the slave seemed to be enjoying herself, and before leaving, she expressed her gratitude once again.
If she was that happy, I thought I would make something for her again.
Not only did it bring joy to the girl, but it also served as training for my spiritual control—a double gain.

I didn’t want to make another bracelet since it would lack creativity, and making something too conspicuous was also not ideal.
So what would be good? A ring would be boring… Hmm, I couldn’t come up with anything.
Despite having some peculiar knowledge, I was still just a scorpion.

But now I had a new motivation to stay alive.
In the darkness, I trained with even greater determination than the day before.
Strangely enough, I hardly felt any pain that came with the training process.