human
Al:  Having solved the logical problem, Al then cocked his head and said softly, “Back home, and it’s only been a few hours… Place feels eerie, though.” He gazed up at the sword-slave island, over which a shroud of silence had fallen. He and Arakiya had made landfall at the waste-disposal site on the lower part of the island—a simple landing from which trash, garbage, and anything else unnecessary that was generated on the island was thrown into the lake to feed the demon beasts. Despite its direct access to the lake, there were no guards here on the lookout for any imperial soldiers trying to sneak in this way. The aquatic demon beasts were guards enough—usually. "They gotta figure no one’d be crazy enough to try to come up this way.”
gpt
Al:  “This place. What is it for?”
human
Al:  “It’s where they pitch the island’s trash. Rotten food, human shit—and any person who’s become waste themselves.”
gpt
Arakiya:  “A person who’s become waste?”
human
Al:  “I mean corpses. The demon beasts take ’em away. It’s real…eco-friendly, ya know?” Al said.
gpt
Arakiya:  Arakiya looked deeply disturbed.
human
Al:  Al felt it was an eminently sensible way of handling things. After all, as long as sword slaves had to fight one another for the entertainment of spectators, the island would continue to generate bodies. The whole island was dedicated to the fights—they couldn’t set aside land to bury anyone. Besides, who would go visit the graves even if they had them? Hence, it was the most efficient way to take care of the dead. “‘Course, you get the occasional spectator with, uh, funny tastes who’ll buy one of the corpses.”
gpt
Arakiya:  “The corpses? What do they do with them?”
human
Al:  “Hey, not every sword slave is a big, ugly brute like me. Sometimes, you get handsome guys, even the occasional attractive woman passing through here. But everyone dies when it’s their time. If they die pretty, there are people who’ll pay for ’em.” He’d even heard of people who purchased the bodies of rare demi-humans in order to have them stuffed—more than a few people from unusual tribes came through the sword-slave island. In any event, excepting those few poor souls who continued to find themselves debased even after death, most corpses were flung into the lake, where they became nutrients for the demon beasts and entered the food chain. "Not sure if one’s any better than the other after you’re dead,” Al said. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t think it would make much difference to him after he was gone whether his body was turned into a plaything or fed to the beasts. Dead was dead; there was nothing left after that. There was nothing left—but there was a proper cycle of nature. “Hmm? What’s up, young lady?