Hannah couldn’t stand, her body covered in blood, some of it from others and some her own.

In the end, Seventeen carried her away on his back.

The owner of the arena didn’t have anyone stop them and, just like the last time, handed over a small cloth bag.

Inside the cloth bag was Hannah’s compensation for the day, thirty glass stones.

Seventeen knew that from now on, Hannah would become the arena’s live advertisement.

There would be many more games like this in the future.

...

At night she dreamt, dreaming of Southport and Archer after defeat.

Her world had been a wasteland since she was five, her dreams filled only with desolate lands and pervasive dawn swallows.

Desolate, lonely.

But then, at seven, she had met Archer.

Like a vibrant flower blooming on rotten ground, a dazzling red, a color warmer than the sun itself.

But he left.

The flower blooming on the rotten ground withered away, the only color vanished, and her world was left in shades of black and white.

"Archer."

The girl murmured in her sleep.

Seventeen, holding warm water, paused in place and, after a moment, turned to leave the room, closing the door behind him.

Hannah woke up three days later, most of her wounds had already healed significantly.

Seventeen naturally noticed Hannah’s unusual healing abilities, but he said nothing, asked nothing, as taciturn as ever.

"Will you continue to participate in the matches?" he asked.

Hannah nodded, "Participate."

Seventeen didn’t say much more, just prepared plenty of medicine for injuries in advance.

Hannah thought they would always have to leave Southport, the matches were just a beginning.

In the days that followed, Hannah had arrangements for gladiator-style combat almost every week, at most she would fight seven bouts in one day.

Her survival meant that the limits of her talent had yet to be discovered.

The arena treated Hannah as a money tree, a living billboard. However, Hannah’s growth was so rapid it instilled a sense of crisis in the owner of the arena.

Over that year, Hannah had gone from barely surviving on the platform to effortlessly slicing through her opponents.

The bets had also changed from initially guessing whether she would live or die to now guessing how many moves it would take for Hannah to win.

A year later, it was difficult for the arena to find mutant beasts that could challenge Hannah, and she had accumulated a considerable amount of money.

But money wasn’t key to leaving Southport.

The tickets to leave Southport were held only in the hands of a few, and these people were not short of money, so it was impossible to buy a ticket with money.

After many inquiries by Seventeen, they found out that the arena owner held two tickets to leave Southport.

Ask him directly for them?

Obviously, that was impossible.

The people in Southport weren’t that kind; even if they didn’t need something themselves, they wouldn’t give it away to anyone.

"What if we stole them?" Hannah asked, looking up at Seventeen.

In Southport, there were no laws, and theft naturally became a very common thing.

But Seventeen still shook his head, "We have no idea where the owner keeps the tickets."

The value of a ticket in Southport was difficult to determine.

For those who owned it but didn’t use it, a ticket was no different from a piece of waste paper, but for those who desired it, the ticket was a thing a thousand times more precious than jewels, gold, or weapons.

It was something they would risk their lives to obtain just at the sight of it.