The memory that Hyoyeon can dig up as the clearest of her earliest memories is of the colour red.

Different colours and shades of red, splattered all over the floor, coating the ceilings and her feet. From Crimson red to a dirty drying reddish brown, Hyoyeon’s earliest memory of her life was one of Blood.

And the raucous cheers of the ugly crowd in the stands, and the weight of the chains on her hands and feet.

Her fists clenched and spasmed.

Dull and lifeless eyes lifted to face the man before her, three times her own small petite size.

Fight!

Fight!

Fight!

Fight!

The crowds howled in her ears, not caring for the fact she had just killed another man almost the same size as the man before her and was dead tired. They were just here for the entertainment. To them, she was a sack of meat, almost on the path of being dead.

They were right. All her life, all that she knew, was to simply fight.

The small petite body dodged the striking fist of the man nimbly, eyes glazed, not even caring as the sharp points of his arm grazed the side of her cheek, drawing blood. The wet blood felt cooling on her cheek, and her fingers raised to touch the redness spilling from there.

Her split moment of deviated concentration proved deadly.

Hyoyeon felt her ribs crack under the force of the palm the man slammed into her small body, sending her skidding a few metres back on the ground, dazed. She barely looked up, before a huge fist, covered with iron knuckles slammed into her face, fracturing her cheekbones and sending a swell of blood rising in .

Her world spun furiously, and the blonde haired could only shake her head, dazed.

A huge foot stamped on the nine-year old’s body, not caring if her fragile ribs creaked under the pressure underfoot. Reflexively, Hyoyeon gripped his ankle, her hands barely big enough to grasp around the meaty man’s big foot. Death loomed over her like an old friend, and Hyoyeon grinned as the man roared, raising his arms to the spectators, who roared in response.

BLOOD!

BLOOD!

BLOOD!

The sound of the chants that called for her death pounded in Hyoyeon’s ears, in tandem with the pounding of her strong heart. Blood rushed through her veins, tainting her delicate cheeks a hue of pink, and she coughed a chuckle.

“Looks like yer’ time in the Arena has ended, hasn’t it, Lil’ Girl?” The large man towering above her taunted. He spat on her face. “I shall give you a prolonged death, just like how I crushed those bastard blooded people of yours beneath my very foot.” His eyes glinted with a crazy glint. “The same foot you’re under, crushed many of those tainted Him Clan Bastards and filth.” He grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair. “Die, .”

“Or maybe not.” The man blinked as the small girl beneath his foot grinned maliciously, her teeth glinting widely in the sun. “You should never have insulted my family.” Her hands grasping the man’s ankle moved in a flash---and tore through the tendons, muscles and bone with a tearing sound---right through the foot he was so proud of; that had been used to crush so many of her kind.

The crowd fell silent as an unearthly scream tore from the man’s lips, faces pale as they watched the blonde little angel toss the large man effortlessly off her body, hitting the side of her head with bored eyes to clear the dirt and grime in her right ear, her bloodied hand gripping the ankle she had torn off the man’s body with brute force.

“You’re boring.” The words that fell from the little girl’s lips echoed around the stadium. “You look down on the Him Clan don’t you?” Her voice rang clearly across all corners, and Hyoyeon tossed aside the bloodied foot, grinning like a cat as she lowered her stance, blood from her body and of others she had torn through streaking her body. “I’m dead tired, but I’ll show you what we can do.” Her chained feet stamped the ground harshly, and strength--that she had kept locked to prolong her matches to earn money--- leaked into all the limbs of her body. The audience sat at the edge of their seats as the blonde streak tore across the ground--the ground cracking where she had used it as a platform to boost her speed---and finally stopped, one foot on the large body of the man, pressing him down, his front to the ground.

“You!”

“Shut up.” Her foot smashed into the man’s helmeted head, denting the metal and crushing his face into the ground. Blood splattered from his nostrils as his nose bridge and teeth broke. She turned an angelic face towards the audience, eyes wide. “Do we want blood?”

The audience roared at her words.

BLOOD!

BLOOD!

BLOOD!

She grinned.

“Toodles, Rock-face.” Her small hands gripped him from his mouth,one hand clutching the bottom of his teeth and the other, at the roof of his mouth. “I’ll try to end this quick for you.” She grunted, then strained her small arms. Gasps tore around the Arena as the man began to squeal, screaming as Hyoyeon tore his head into two, tongue between her teeth, separating the bottom of the man’s mouth from his roof. His hands flailed desperately, and his body convulsed, but was unable to throw off the girl sitting on his back. Blood and heated gore splattered all over Hyoyeon’s dirty tunic and all over the dusty floor.

“Hm.” She threw the upper half of the head aside, letting the rest of the dead man’s body drop to the ground. Her palms were imprinted, no, torn with the imprints of the man’s teeth, and blood coated her stinging palms. She glanced stonily at the stadium’s podium, cracking her neck leisurely as the chains on her hands and feet clanged noisily against each other.

“WINNER: THE GIRL MONSTER!” The pudgy man screamed reedily from his seat, and like always, the crowd roared in response. Hyoyeon blew harshly through her nose. As much as she wasn’t happy with the name they had given her, it was by far better than being known as Hyoyeon, Princess of the Him Clan Slaves.

Oh, the drastic irony.

Hyoyeon flopped over the large body, locking away her strength silently and panting as the adrenaline left her body.

Five cracked ribs.

One broken wrist

One fractured cheekbone

A concussion

An eye swelling shut, with some blood.

And probably a twisted ankle, which she had used to gather strength and propelled herself forward.

Her body screamed in pain, and she groaned lightly, feeling spots of darkness dancing in her vision as rough hands grabbed her small body, throwing her like a sack of potatoes over their shoulders.

Familiar words of comfort from the healers the slavers employed filled her ears, and Hyoyeon finally surrendered herself to blissful darkness.

~~~~~~

When she finally awoke, Hyoyeon groaned as the familiar face of the girl and her comrades that had been bought just a day ago floated into view.

“What?” She snapped.

“You look terrible.” The girl commented, offering her a handkerchief. Hyoyeon stared at her oddly.

“Here.” The softer looking one, with a rare eyes smile, handed her a fresh smelling poultice. “I’ll help you regain your strength--” Hyoyeon opened her open to eat the paste. “No!” The girl blustered immediately, snatching the paste with pale hands and grumbling. “Its not for eating!”

“You said it’ll help me regain my strength.” The nine year old replied lazily. “I don’t see anything possibly helping me regain my strength unless I eat it.”

“Its to be applied.” The younger girl hissed, smacking a glob of the nice smelling paste on her wound. Hyoyeon yelped reflexively, expecting a sting, and blinked as the paste cooled her skin, the scent imbued in it relaxing her body.

“You didn’t say you were from the Him Clan!” The other girl, thei