The performance concluded with an unexpected result, leaving even Elmo in a daze for quite a while. The audience dispersed, leaving behind only the dreamlike memories echoing between the stone walls.
After seeing off the nobles, Elmo, accompanied by Joseph, walked toward the prison cells below LB Arena. Joseph remained silent throughout the journey, while Elmo's expression darkened.
"Zachary, there you are," Elmo said upon spotting Zachary, who was organizing a team to clean up the arena.
"Boss," Zachary replied, noticing Elmo's arrival. He quickly gave a few instructions to his subordinates before making his way over to Elmo.
"What's the background of that guy? What kind of technique was that? And what's with that nickname? Did you arrange all this? I expect an explanation," Elmo demanded, his expression grave.
"I can't say for sure what his background is. According to the records from when we bought the slaves, he seems to be just an ordinary mountain bandit. But I have no idea how an ordinary bandit could possess such an eerie technique, nor can I explain what that technique actually is. The slaves he fought against are all dead, and I had someone check; the cause of death is unknown. As for that nickname, it was probably made up on the spot by the announcer. Given the circumstances, it's not surprising he said something like that. Everything has gone beyond my control, and I acknowledge my failure. Please punish me, boss," Zachary replied, his face still maintaining a stiff expression. For the first time in years, he couldn't bring himself to meet Elmo's gaze as he bowed his head deeply.
"Forget it; this can't be blamed on you. I bought that person myself, and it was my oversight that led to today's outcome, so the responsibility mainly lies with me. Overall, today's gladiatorial performance was quite successful. Although we didn't receive the usual thunderous applause at the end, that unforgettable performance is enough to raise LB Arena's profile. Let's move on from today's events. Just give a few instructions to your subordinates regarding the remaining matters. You still need to help me prepare for the Super Gladiator show. Take some time to observe that guy," Elmo said, letting out a small sigh as he looked at Zachary's lowered head and gently patted him on the shoulder.
"Yes, boss," Zachary replied, turning to walk toward his subordinates, who were busy shouting and directing others.
"Joseph, have someone keep an eye on that guy twenty-four-seven, but don't make it too obvious. What's his name again? Right, Sinner! In this world, how many people are truly innocent? 'Angel of Punishment,' my ass! If heaven really did 'punish,' there wouldn't be a living soul left on this earth. And who's supposed to administer divine punishment anyway, the Almighty? What a load of bullshit!" Elmo shouted, feeling inexplicably angry.
"Boss, it's fine to send someone to keep an eye on him, but with the martial skills he just demonstrated, it's impossible to do so without him noticing," Joseph said.
"It doesn't matter if he knows. We just need to do what we're supposed to do. Oh, and Ora, go dig up the details on that guy," Elmo said, but noticed that besides Joseph, there was no one else around.
When Ruben returned to the mansion, he was as furious as an enraged lion, and the entire space was filled with a tense and oppressive atmosphere. His eyes seemed to blaze with fire, glaring at everything around him, making it impossible for anyone to meet his gaze.
"Goddamn it, that bastard Elmo!" Ruben shouted angrily as he stormed back into his mansion. A few nearly naked women standing around him trembled with fear. "One 'Angel Sword' wasn't enough, and now there's 'Angel's Punishment' too? Is he playing games with me on purpose?" Ruben roared, shaking the entire mansion. His men stood by the door, quivering, terrified that Ruben might take his anger out on them.
"Where's Troy? Get him here! I have something important to discuss with him!" Ruben fumed, slapping one of the women across the face so hard her cheek swelled up and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"Y-yes, sir!" one of his men stammered before scrambling out of the room. Moments later, a small, scrawny man named Troy slinked in, bowing slightly when he saw Ruben. His lecherous eyes lingered on the women behind Ruben before finally settling on him.
"Troy, my dear friend, tell me, how many men do I have at my disposal right now?" Ruben asked as he waved off the women and dismissed the rest of the servants. A twisted grin spread across his face as his large frame lumbered down the stairs toward Troy, his gait slow and unsteady.
"You currently have five hundred loyal subordinates, and about three thousand hired muscle, boss. May I ask why you're suddenly asking about this?" Troy inquired, a bit puzzled.
"Oh, my friend, I know I can trust you completely, right?" Ruben asked with a cheerful smile.
"Yes, boss, I believe so. At the very least, my loyalty to you is unquestionable," Troy responded respectfully, though he secretly added in his mind, "for now."
"Well, then, tell me, how many men does Elmo's little gang have?" Ruben continued smiling, but there was a deadly intensity in his eyes that couldn't be ignored.
"Oh my God, boss, you're not planning to go to war with Elmo, are you?" Troy exclaimed in shock. "Sure, he's a bastard, but his men are tough, ruthless types. For heaven's sake, what's gotten you so worked up? Tell me, maybe I can help share the burden."
"Alright, alright! Calm down, I haven't made any decisions yet, have I? No need to be so anxious. First, just tell me what I want to know—how many men does he have?" Ruben's face remained friendly, but his eyes gleamed dangerously.
"Based on our rough estimates, Elmo has at least three hundred loyal subordinates and over a thousand hired hands. But most of his forces are scattered among different groups, so it's difficult to get an exact count. Plus, he has a unique way of controlling his gladiators. If we push him too hard, we might end up facing those crazed gladiators. Especially those three… they could each take on a hundred men, and…"
"Alright, alright, Troy, enough. Didn't I say I haven't made any decisions yet?" Ruben interrupted, clearly annoyed. "I just want to gauge his strength, that's all. So, tell me, how many gladiators do we have, my friend?" Ruben pulled out a large cigar from his pocket, mimicking Elmo's signature move, and lit it with a smug look.
"We currently have around three hundred and fifty gladiators, and about a hundred beasts. But many are injured or weak, so overall, the situation isn't great," Troy answered quickly, without hesitation.
"Damn it! That bastard Elmo managed to bring in so many fighters at once. Does he really think he can just swallow up my ML Arena like that?" Ruben shouted furiously, jumping up. His fat jiggled with the sudden motion, and a button, unable to withstand the strain, popped off and flew across the room.
"Boss, should we consider buying some slaves as well?" Troy asked cautiously, eyeing Ruben carefully.
"Huh? Oh, right." Ruben's temper, as usual, shifted rapidly, and in the blink of an eye, he seemed to calm down. "Maybe there really is something to those Middle Eastern goods. Alright, get in touch with all the sellers from Everlasting Wilds. I need a hundred top-quality slaves, and two hundred standard ones. Also, stock up on some premium items—I might take a trip myself soon."
"Yes, boss," Troy replied cautiously.
Ruben stretched slightly, glancing at his clothes. He tugged lightly at his collar, and yet another button popped off. "Which tailor made this outfit? Have him killed, and bring his daughter to me—assuming he has one, of course. And, only if she's not too hideous."
"Boss, the tailor was already killed by Duke Louis last week. His daughter was quite beautiful, but she was taken by the Duke as well. She's probably a whore by now," Troy responded, keeping his head low.
"Oh? And what about his wife?" Ruben frowned slightly.
"Two months ago, his wife was sent to a brothel to pay off some debts. If you'd like, I can—"
"Forget it." Ruben waved dismissively, cutting Troy off, clearly irritated. "So, is there anyone left in their family?"
"Now? If that two-month-old bastard son of his starved to death from neglect, then no, there's no one left," Troy replied.
"Go check if that little brat's dead. If he's still alive, send him to the arena. I'm sure the starving beasts would love him. Damn it, I need to change my clothes. Oh, my sweet Melissa—I can't meet my darling looking like this." Ruben flashed a cruel smile as he grabbed the only intact wine glass, filled to the brim with fine wine, and downed it in one gulp. This crystal glass had cost him five hundred silver coins, one of his most prized possessions, and he wasn't about to let it be damaged.