Ashe had already steeled himself when he saw the notification about the Blood Moon Tribunal, but hearing it confird that it was his death sentence still made his heart sink.
Deep down, he had clung to a sliver of hope that soone here might realize he wasn't the leader of a cult, that he might face a long trial, or perhaps even receive a two-year reprieve. That fantasy had reached its peak after he entered the prison. In Ashe's view, no death row inmate could live in such a comfortable cell with its own bathroom, move freely within the prison, or enjoy so many privileges. Or so he thought.
Ronna's explanation shattered all his naive expectations. It was precisely because they were destined to die that the prison treated them so well.
Ashe forced the next words out. "So the prison keeps us trapped and well-fed, just to make our deaths even more miserable? Isn't that a waste of resources?"
Ronna laughed. "Do you think fireworks are wasted just because they burn too brightly? I'm surprised that you really don't understand the Blood Moon Tribunal. It's broadcast live in every city. On the first and fifteenth of each month, most citizens stay ho at 8 p.m. and tune in on their light screens to watch each criminal's final monts. Viewership has reached nearly seventy percent.
"By the way, compared to the advertising revenue the Blood Moon Tribunal generates, the cost of keeping us alive is practically nothing."
Ashe tugged at the corner of his mouth. So public executions were a popular show in this world...
"Ridiculous. Seventy percent of people watch entertainnt programs at eight at night? Does no one work overti here? Their workload must be a joke..."
Ronna remained unfazed by Ashe's impotent rage. He had seen too many death row inmates break down as the Blood Moon Tribunal approached. So cursed the social system, while others ranted against the ignorance of the masses. Anyone who spends enough ti in prison will see it all.
"There is still a way to escape the Blood Moon Tribunal," Ronna said.
Ashe perked up. "What way?"
Ronna didn't leave him dangling. "Every Blood Moon Tribunal starts with eight prisoners on the stage, with one among them dying. Those eight slots aren't fixed. They're determined by Contribution Points. Every death row prisoner starts with fifty Contribution Points and loses ten points each month. Even if your points drop to zero, the prison won't punish you. The more points you have, the later you'll be in the execution order; the fewer points, the earlier. In theory, the first eight in the ranking are the ones who take part in the Tribunal.
"There are many ways to earn Contribution Points. The simplest is by creating value. Our intelligence is basically useless since a mory specialist would have extracted all our mories the mont we were brought into the prison. But we can still find other ways to contribute."
"So prisoners are here for dereliction or corruption. They propose reforms to prevent future offenders from making the sa mistakes. Those imprisoned for conducting illegal experints engage in legal research and publish papers while in prison. Others are simply talented. So even write books in prison that sell well, which also counts as creating value.
"But most people in this prison are murderers or people who despise work and make a habit of taking from others, like ."
Ronna pointed at Ashe. "And you. So how do we earn Contribution Points? The Death Match Club is our answer."
Ashe caught on. "You said participating in death duels cos with a price..."
Ronna continued, "Besides death and pain, the highest price is the transfer of Contribution Points. In every duel, both sides wager a set amount of points. The winner escapes the Blood Moon Tribunal, while the loser faces the judgnt.
"If the Tribunal is the end, then the Death Match Club is the bloody path leading there. Almost every death row inmate eventually participates in duels, gambles their last points, bleeds their final drop of blood, and steps onto the live broadcast stage in utter despair.
"This is how we earn our Contribution Points—by eliminating the weak and preserving bloodlust. And this is why the prison allows the Death Match Club to exist."
Ronna's tone remained calm, as if he were casually discussing soone else's fate. "Before stepping onto the stage, every perforr still needs makeup."
Even without having watched the Blood Moon Tribunal, Ashe understood exactly what he ant. Just as mobile gas required beautifully illustrated character art, the Death Matches were the process of turning death row inmates into that illustration. From gambling and fighting to despair, fear, and pain... nothing stirred the audience more than a battle with one's life on the line.
When a death row inmate failed repeatedly in death duels, when pain drove him to hysteria, and fear pushed him into despair and madness, he beca a "main dish," ready to be served. By then, the audience would be presented with a wild beast brimming with bloodlust, fighting spirit, desperation, and terror.
Compared to an empty, withered human, which was no different from an emotionless husk, a beast that still struggled and resisted was far more entertaining to slaughter. This was an open trap, one that death row inmates could not refuse.
The losers beca the product the prison demanded, sold for a "good price" during the live broadcast, while the winners received only a temporary reprieve, a sip of poison to quench their thirst. One day, they too would face the sa inevitable fate of being dragged onto the broadcast stage.
From the very beginning, every death row inmate shared a single ending: to be drained of all value and then die. The private rooms with their own bathrooms, the good food, and the complete facilities existed only to fatten them up.
The so-called execution ranking was nothing more than an internal competition chanism. Everyone played a zero-sum ga. Either you went to judgnt, or I would.
Yet, Ashe found all of this still sowhat reasonable. After all, each of them had broken the law, which led them to beco death row inmates.
If a death row inmate didn't want to be exploited, he could simply lie down and wait for death. Only those who wanted to live would be dragged into the endless competition.
If Ashe were outside watching, he'd be applauding the system while sitting back and enjoying the drama.
Unfortunately, Ashe's cruel fate had him transmigrate into a cult leader, ignorant of his own capabilities, leading him into this ss and landing him in prison. Now, he had no choice but to find a way out.
"After hearing all this, do you still want to join the Death Match Club?"
"Of course!"
Ronna wasn't surprised. He finished his milk and let out a burp. "Then co with . If we're lucky, we might catch a fresh corpse still warm."
Ashe asked curiously, "Are there already Death Matches happening this early in the morning?"
"Duels require wagering Contribution Points, but you don't have to bet much at first. The first match only requires one point. Each match after that, you have to bet one more point than the last. That ans two points in the second, three in the third, and so on."
"Over ti, the accumulated wagers add up, but even if you lose all your first five matches, you still have a chance to recover. That's why everyone uses their first five duels to gauge others' strength and figure out their place in the prison.
"That's also why duels happen so frequently. Once per day is completely normal. With the 15th's tribunal approaching, the people ranked near the front are all eager to escape execution through duels. I expect the blood on the arena floor won't even have ti to dry in the coming days."
"Speaking of which, do you want to buy at?"
Ashe blinked. "at? What at?"
"The at that falls onto the arena floor. It's one of the few ways we can spend Contribution Points. Once soone's at falls, it belongs to the prison. We can buy it from the prison with our Contribution Points."
Ronna turned to Ashe with an eerie smile. "If we're lucky, we can get thigh at. You can eat it raw like sashimi or cooked. The texture is excellent. I highly recomnd it."
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