BATTLE FOR STARS

Although most of a slave’s income went to their master, to give them a glimmer of hope, they were still allowed to have private property.

By saving a small amount each year, over many years it could grow into a substantial sum. In the past, some masters deliberately killed their slaves to seize this money, so the Empire forbade killing slaves without authorization, unless the slave had committed a capital crime.

Thus, a master could buy, command, or even abuse their slaves, but could not kill them at will. When a slave became a burden, the simplest method was to discard them. Masters could remove a slave’s name from the system, meaning that any future mistakes by that slave would no longer be their responsibility.

Lina found a small single-person hover vehicle at the underground station exit. It was essentially a circular platform fifty centimeters in diameter, with only a vertical handle for stability and an oval metal storage compartment beside it.

This simple transport device saved her a lot of energy. She only needed to stand on it and scan her bracelet, and it would take her home at a very low cost. Still, most slaves were reluctant to spend money even on this.

Lina’s residence was modest—a single room in a rectangular standard apartment, roughly forty square meters. It contained a bedroom and a bathroom, with the space outside the bedroom serving as both living and cooking area.

The cooking utensils were bought by her male intimate partner, Mor. Lina had never learned to cook and rarely prepared her own meals; Mor would use the utensils about once every two weeks.

Slaves’ meals were delivered via specialized transmitters. The nature, type, and importance of a slave’s work determined the quality of the food, but it was generally a porridge-like consistency. For gladiator slaves, the meals were of significantly higher quality than for other slaves.

The primary purpose of the food was to sustain daily physical needs. Although there were various flavors to choose from, after eating this “porridge” for so many years, Lina had long found it tasteless. Occasionally, she would reject the food and spend her own money to enjoy a meal at a restaurant.

This was a luxury, so to save money, Mor bought cooking tools to prepare meals himself. While still expensive, it was much cheaper than dining out.

“Back already? Why do you look so exhausted?” Mor asked, seeing Lina’s weary face. He knew what Lina had been doing for her master—a weekly routine—but today she seemed particularly fatigued.

“I’m fine,” Lina shook her head. She knew it was the effect of the pill, but seeing Mor cheered her up a little, and her exhaustion seemed to lessen.

Mor was more than thirty years older than Lina, nearly 1.9 meters tall, with a short-cropped haircut and deep blue eyes. His strong build and decent looks made him seem steady, though he had a one-inch scar on his forehead.

He had originally been a gladiator slave under another master. When that master lost a gamble, Mor was sold to Jeff, where he eventually met Lina. Over time, they became close.

Master Jeff didn’t mind their relationship. As long as his own interests weren’t harmed, he was indifferent. Such relationships were common among slaves and were actually encouraged, as they helped stabilize slaves and reduce negative emotions.

“I’ve made Camis roast meat. It’ll be ready soon. There’s an energy drink in your cup,” Mor said, turning back to continue roasting the meat.

Watching Mor’s back, Lina felt a warmth in her heart—one of the few people in this world she could rely on.

She remembered when they first met. Lina had been a gladiator for three years, with weak fundamentals and poor performance. Mor had just transferred from another master, and both had been marginalized under Jeff. Their shared circumstances allowed them to slowly get to know each other during training.

Once, Lina had been cheated by underground merchants in Zone E due to inexperience, losing a considerable amount of money. When she confronted them, she was beaten badly. At the critical moment, Mor stepped in, shielding her from further harm.

Although the money wasn’t recovered, their relationship advanced rapidly. Soon after, Mor and Lina became a couple. As Lina’s skills improved, her victories and earnings increased, eventually allowing them to rent this decent apartment in Zone A.

“Let’s eat,” Mor said, bringing the roasted meat to the table. After Lina was summoned by her master, he would always prepare a proper meal to improve her nutrition and lift her spirits.

“Okay,” Lina said, taking a pair of chopsticks from a drawer.

Chopsticks were rare in the Resk Empire, as most porridge-like foods were eaten with a spoon or straw. Even restaurants provided only a knife at most.

Chopsticks were foreign utensils, but as a mech gladiator, Lina needed quick reflexes. She had consistently practiced with them to maintain hand dexterity. By now, she could manipulate any combination of fingers with ease.

Mor cut the roast into small pieces. The two of them ate happily with meat and drinks—a rare indulgence in their life. Over the years, Mor’s cooking skills had improved considerably. While still slightly inferior to a restaurant, it was far superior to the regular delivered meals.

“Why do you insist on participating in this mech gladiator tournament?” Mor asked his beloved.

He knew the stakes: this tournament was part of the five-yearly carnival on the planet, also called the Grand Festival. The outcome was wagered on, not only by locals but across the universe.

Mech gladiators and their masters could not profit from bets directly, but winning granted enormous prize money. Unlike regular matches, the carnival tournament differed significantly.

Regular competitions simply determined a winner and loser. This tournament almost always ended with one mech completely destroyed.

The risk of death, permanent disability, or severe injury was highest in this tournament, creating the thrill and excitement that drew high betting volume.

“At our current savings pace, another five years’ effort will be enough to buy back your freedom,” Mor continued. They had been saving for nearly seven years, well ahead of the average seventy-year timeline for a slave to redeem themselves