Emotionless Swordsmanship Genius

Chapter 4: The Cruel Game (2)

After Montecorato had left, Prince Merka took a step closer to Karon. The boy’s face and body were covered in numerous cuts and bruises, his stomach shrunken from days without food.

“What’s your name?” Merka asked.

Karon remained silent, his two eyes, hidden under his curly brown hair, still filled with emptiness.

“How dare you ignore the prince’s question…,” Eugenia started to intervene, but Merka raised his hand, signaling her to stop.

Merka’s golden eyes calmly observed Karon’s vacant gaze.

“If you don’t want to speak, that’s fine. My name is Merka.”

The prince introduced himself in a composed manner. Slowly, Karon’s eyes began to focus, and he lifted his head to look at Merka.

Their eyes met.

In that brief moment, both of them felt an inexplicable stirring in their hearts.

Merka was inwardly surprised, while Karon was puzzled. After a brief silence, Merka smiled faintly and spoke again.

“You have an unusual aura about you.”

Merka’s words seemed cryptic, but he turned to Eugenia with a suggestion.

“Eugenia, what if we take this boy with us? He could be trained as one of your soldiers, right?”

Eugenia responded respectfully, “Of course, Your Highness. But if the Emperor finds out about this, there’s no doubt he will be displeased. Senator Montecorato has already acknowledged the boy’s presence. If we take him now, the Senator will surely inform the Emperor.”

Montecorato was a trusted confidant of the Emperor, given full authority over the Colosseum’s operations. Any matter related to the Colosseum had to go through him.

Taking the boy would alert Montecorato, and word would eventually reach the Emperor.

Merka frowned deeply but, after a moment of thought, spoke resolutely, “Hmm. I’ll find a way. Eugenia, prepare for it.”

“As you command, Your Highness,” Eugenia answered with a knowing smile, as if used to the prince’s determined attitude.

“It’s late. We’ll come back tomorrow. Have them remove the shackles and provide him with food and water. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in days,” Merka ordered.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Just as Merka was about to leave the dungeon, a rough, scraping voice broke the silence.

“Karon.”

Merka turned back.

It was the first time the boy had spoken. What had caused him to finally open his mouth?

Instinctively, Merka felt a strange kinship with Karon, as if they were similar in some fundamental way.

Merka nodded in acknowledgment and replied, “Nice to meet you, Karon. We’ll meet again.”

With a bright smile, Merka turned and left the dungeon.

* * *

As they made their way through the underground passage, Merka grimaced at the sight of the piled-up corpses.

“When will Father stop this foolishness?” he muttered with a heavy sigh. Though still young, Merka couldn’t comprehend the cruelty of the Colosseum.

Yet, despite the gruesome scene, his gaze remained emotionless, betraying none of the feelings one would expect from someone his age.

Perhaps this was why a hint of sadness flickered in Eugenia’s expression. Despite trying to hide it, he occasionally noticed the coldness in Merka’s demeanor.

“What do you think, Eugenia?” Merka asked, looking up at him.

Eugenia, ever respectful, lowered his head slightly before answering, “Someone as simple-minded as me cannot grasp the depths of the Emperor’s plans, Your Highness. However, they say there’s nothing more effective than the Colosseum for relieving the repressed desires of the Rob Empire’s citizens.”

Merka frowned at his words.

“Do we really have to accept such sacrifices to win the people’s favor? This is inhumane.”

“We cannot underestimate the power of the masses, Your Highness,” Eugenia replied with a firm tone.

Though it was unusual for someone of Eugenia’s status to speak so frankly, their relationship was special. Eugenia had been protecting Merka since he was a baby and treated him as if he were more important than his own child.

Merka, aware of Eugenia’s feelings, smiled faintly and quickened his pace.

“I know, but it’s frustrating. Let’s get out of here. I need some fresh air.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

* * *

That night.

The underground Colosseum was silent and still.

Inside his cage, Karon tossed and turned, groaning in his sleep. His body temperature had spiked, and cold sweat drenched him.

Instinctively, he reached out for Anessa’s embrace but quickly recoiled, curling into a ball as the harsh reality set in.

Suddenly, Karon jolted awake, sitting up abruptly.

He looked around, searching for anything that could serve as a weapon, but all he saw were bloodstains dried and caked on the walls and floor.

At that moment, the hurried footsteps of soldiers echoed in the distance, growing louder as they approached.

“Everyone out! We’re moving!” a commanding voice barked.

“Hurry up, move it!”

With booming voices, the soldiers flung open the iron bars, dragging out the slaves.

“Looks like we meet again.”

Standing in front of Karon’s cage was none other than Senator Montecorato.

“Grab him.”

At his command, two muscular men wearing bloodstained masks opened Karon’s cage and seized him by both arms. They were Montecorato’s personal enforcers.

Though Karon had consumed a little water and food, it was far from enough to regain his strength. He didn’t have the energy to resist.

“We can’t send you off without a parting gift, can we?” Montecorato sneered, moving closer with a sinister smile.

Suddenly.

Thud!

“Ugh!” Karon couldn’t help but let out a groan. Something small and sharp had stabbed into his abdomen.

In Montecorato’s hand was a small, blood-stained stiletto. It was designed to cause minimal external bleeding but severe internal damage. It was often used in gladiatorial matches to sabotage opponents, causing them to suffer slow, agonizing deaths.

“Let’s hope you make it to hell safely, brat. Take him away!” Montecorato ordered, wiping his hands as if the matter was settled.

“Yes, sir!”

Montecorato spun on his heel, leaving the cage. He felt satisfied, thinking he had sufficiently vented his anger. To him, Karon was nothing more than a toy to be discarded after use.

Karon was dragged outside through an underground passage that led to the surface.

Several wagons, each surrounded by iron bars, were already waiting outside. Once they were loaded with the frightened slaves, the wagons started moving, as if someone might chase them.

* * *

The convoy sped south.

Karon removed his hand from his abdomen and glanced at the wound. Blood was slowly trickling from the small puncture.

He pressed his hand against the injury again and looked around.

It was night, and visibility was low, but Karon’s sharp vision allowed him to see faint shapes.

His gaze returned to the interior of the wagon. The slaves were all huddled together, trembling in fear.

There was nothing around to help treat his wound.

Karon knew he had no choice but to endure. He removed what remained of his tattered clothes and tied them tightly around his injury. Then, he curled up as much as possible, focusing on conserving his body heat.

He knew he shouldn’t sleep, but his body was reaching its limit. His eyelids began to droop, though he never fell into a deep sleep.

He spent the night in a half-dreaming state, where memories of Anessa and Fedder passed through his mind.

‘Karon, you’re a special boy. You must survive.’

‘Karon! Are you giving up here? I’m disappointed, my son.’

Their voices echoed in his mind, but then the nightmares came. His brow furrowed as the dark scenes played out in his head.

Despite the pain, he clenched his teeth and endured.

At that moment, something remarkable began to happen inside his body.

Throughout the night, his damaged organs started to slowly heal, and the bleeding reduced as the wound began to clot. Dried blood clung to his skin like a scab.

* * *

The next morning.

Karon woke up to the hot rays of the sun. The first thing he did was check his abdomen. A thick, dark-red scab had formed over the wound.

He moved his body slightly. Surprisingly, the sharp pain from the injury was gone.

Just then, the convoy came to a halt.

Sensing something amiss, Karon quickly scanned his surroundings.

The wagons had stopped in the middle of a vast plain. It seemed they had traveled far south, likely reaching the coastal region of the Rob Empire.

Tall grass, reaching up to their knees, stretched out across the endless horizon.

“Let’s see which one is in the best shape.”

“No matter how carefully you choose, they’re all the same to me.”

“Haha! We’ll see.”

Soldiers at the front of the convoy laughed and strutted toward the wagons.

The group split into two teams, inspecting the condition of the slaves.

Karon felt someone’s gaze on him. When he turned, he saw a man sitting alone, separate from the others, on a magnificent black horse.

The man had his hair tied back in a ponytail and a well-groomed beard. He was clearly the leader of the group.

Though the man pretended otherwise, Karon knew he was being watched.

One of the soldiers peered into Karon’s cage but shook his head.

“These ones look like they’re about to drop dead.”

Then, the soldier’s eyes landed on a young man with a sturdy build. He looked to be in his early twenties, and his physique suggested he had been captured recently.

“I’ll take this one!”

“Not bad!”

Each team selected a slave and dragged them out of the cages.

Out in the open field, they removed the chains from the slaves’ ankles and waved them forward.

“We’ll let you go. Run.”

“Yeah, just make it over that hill, and you’ll reach the forest. Once you’re in the woods, you’ll be safe.”

The soldiers grinned wickedly as they shoved the two slaves forward.

The slaves exchanged confused, terrified looks before they glanced at each other.

For a brief moment, their eyes twitched.

Then, they ran.

Rustle, rustle!

Huff! Huff!

Panting heavily, they dashed through the tall grass.

The soldiers watched with smug expressions. Once the slaves were far enough, they turned toward the man on the black horse.

He urged his horse forward, positioning himself between the two teams. When the slaves had become small specks in the distance, he gave the order.

“Begin.”

At his command, the soldiers on both sides drew the bows they had been carrying. They carefully nocked their arrows, turned slightly, and aimed at the running slaves.

The game was simple: the team that killed their slave first won.