Just past noon, the sun was still blazing, and the sky shimmered with mirage-like waves of heat. Before the grand, earthy-yellow entrance of the Lron Blood Arena, a crowd surged, signaling the imminent kickoff of a long-awaited major gladiatorial event, featuring a small warm-up show that was poised to ignite excitement.
The warm-up show marked the initial performance of slaves rising to become gladiators. Of course, this only applied to those who managed to survive.
This warm-up event was particularly grand, with the Lron Blood Arena featuring a lineup of over a hundred participants—an unprecedented spectacle in the history of gladiatorial contests.
Typically, the youngest recruits would be positioned at the front, but today was different. The younger newcomers were slated to appear last, a decision made with purpose by Elmo.
"The major gladiatorial event hasn't begun yet, and we can't let the audience leave the arena feeling exhausted and uninspired," Elmo chuckled, making a few notes on the report in his hand before passing it to Zachary beside him. "It's almost time; let's go welcome the VIPs."
The gladiators were all invigorated, and of course, betting was an essential part of the atmosphere. Those scheduled to perform quietly rested or sharpened their weapons.
Abram sat cross-legged in a corner, cradling a peculiar necklace at his chest, eyes narrowed as he murmured incantations. Next to him, a black-haired youth was doing muscle exercises, occasionally glancing over with interest.
The atmosphere among the little ones grew even more somber. For children as young as they were, stepping into the arena typically meant being sacrificed to satisfy the audience's thirst for blood. Although this contradicted their placement at the end of the lineup, fear clouded the minds of the young ones, rendering them incapable of rational thought. Of course, it couldn't be said that Elmo completely disregarded them; he simply didn't care much about the survival of the other children, except for a few key individuals.
Warmond sat among the crowd, his right foot trembling uncontrollably. He buried his head in his knees, left hand brushing over the bracer on his right wrist. Faint scars marred his skin, remnants of the intensive training sessions his master, Pommai, had put him through that week.
Not far from Warmond, Maisha lay sprawled on the ground in a starfish position, arms and legs outstretched. Her eyes lacked any sparkle, staring blankly at the roof as blood continued to seep from her shoulder.
The remaining ten or so children were scattered around, resembling lambs awaiting slaughter, trembling yet silent, every breath heavy with the weight of fear and uncertainty.
The commotion outside and the impending bloodshed did not affect everyone; Finn remained in the training room, practicing alone. Even without Aelric's sharp reprimands, he showed no signs of easing up. The walls of the training room were in disarray, but this didn't reflect poor aim; rather, he frequently changed his targets out of fear of piercing through the walls.
It seemed to be instinct, a relentless drive for strength. Finn thrust his weapon against the wall again and again, almost frantically.
A cloud drifted across the sky, its long tails fluttering in the wind. A massive, snow-white banner soared aloft, emblazoned with bold crimson characters: "Obsession comes from madness, passion flows from blood. Built on madness and blood, Lron Blood Arena brings you obsession and passion. Let the howling begin—'long-awaited' blood will soon stain the sky and earth once more."
Next to the banner, a flag waved in the breeze. It was the flag of the Lron Blood Arena, depicting a blood-soaked figure emerging from the torn body of a beast. The figure's face was devoid of features, save for a pair of glowing eyes. Its muscles bulged ominously, covered in blood, resembling a fierce, roaring beast.
In the massive stands of the Lron Blood Arena, the crowd surged like a tide, packed shoulder to shoulder. There were at least seventy thousand spectators, and even the VIP section felt cramped. Two dukes were prominent figures in attendance, and of course, Ruben wouldn't stay home quietly.
Ruben entered the VIP section with a provocatively dressed beauty at his side, avoiding others as he headed straight toward Elmo and the two dukes.
"Hey, isn't that the owner of 'Crimson Rose' (the largest entertainment hub in Dune City), the beautiful Miss Melissa?" Elmo instantly recognized the approaching figure, his face breaking into a radiant smile as he disregarded Ruben, enthusiastically greeting the beauty.
Ruben's expression darkened for a moment but quickly returned to a forced smile as he interjected, "Oh, so Elmo is also acquainted with the lovely Melissa."
"Who in Dune City doesn't know someone like Melissa? She's stolen my goods a few times, after all," Elmo said with a glance at Ruben before bursting into laughter.
"Oh? Elmo has goods stolen? Now that's a story worth hearing," Duke Wilfred Gardner stepped closer, intrigued. Duke Filip Murphy followed right behind him.
"Now, that's unjust, Elmo! You're the big boss—what would a frail woman like me dare to steal from you? But if you were to try and take something from me, I wouldn't have the courage to say 'no,'" Melissa tossed him a flirty glance, her voice sweetly teasing.
"Not at all, what do I count as a big boss? A true big boss is someone like you, my brother Ruben," Elmo chuckled, not waiting for Ruben to respond before continuing. "But the allure of the lovely Melissa is simply irresistible. Kayden has set aside quite a lot of good merchandise for you, and I suspect I can't even count how many of my desired goods have been secretly sent to you."
Melissa's expression shifted slightly at his words. She stole a glance at Ruben beside her, her brows knitting tighter, silently cursing Elmo a few times and even wishing him ill. Yet, she maintained a subtle smile as she replied, "Oh, Elmo, you jest. What charm do I possess? Surviving in Dune City relies entirely on the support of big bosses like you. What can a mere woman accomplish?" As she spoke, she gently leaned against Ruben's shoulder, her hand lightly looping around his arm. "As for the goods that Sablehold of Enslavement sent me, were there any meant for you, Elmo? I truly had no idea. If I had known, I wouldn't have dared to accept them. But I imagine Kayden decided to give me the goods because you, Elmo, are in the gladiatorial business and need strong slaves, while Crimson Rose can't survive without those girls. However, if you wish to lay blame on me, I can't refuse. After the show, I'm willing to accept whatever punishment you deem fit. I hope you'll show mercy and not be too harsh."
The enchanting beauty radiated seduction in every gesture, and even the typically composed Elmo couldn't help but tremble slightly, a wave of indescribable emotions washing over him.
"Hahaha, I don't think Elmo is that small-minded. What's there to blame, Melissa? You're being a bit dramatic," Duke Filip Murphy said with a light tug on Elmo's sleeve, maintaining a jovial front. "Well, it seems the show is about to start; let's go take a look. I finally convinced that girl not to come and cause trouble, and I don't want to waste this rare opportunity for an exciting performance."
"Yes, the show is starting. Let's head over," Elmo replied, his expression shifting as he smiled slightly, gesturing for them to proceed. The group fell silent and pushed through the crowd, making their way to the front of the stands.
"Bitch, what a pain in the ass," Burne muttered quietly, standing next to Joseph as he watched the entire scene unfold.
"Keep your voice down; we don't want to attract trouble," Joseph said, his gaze fixed on Elmo's surroundings, his tone stern.
"Come on, you protect the boss every day; don't you have to deal with people like this regularly? I really don't know how you endure it," Burne grumbled.
"You're the one who constantly monitors others and digs into their privacy. How can you not handle this?" Joseph shot back.
"I'm just observing human nature. Take that bitch, for instance—her figure is top-notch, and her skills in bed are unmatched; just looking at her is enough to make you swoon. Not like now, with her outfit that's supposed to be revealing but isn't really, showing off skin while scheming and plotting. Ugh, the darkness of politics and commerce," Burne sighed, adopting a world-weary demeanor.
"Ugh, get lost. I always thought Marcel was disgusting, but I didn't expect you to reach his level in another domain," Joseph said, his expression unchanged, though his words nearly infuriated Burne.
"I warn you, don't compare me to that fake woman, or I'll flip out," Burne replied, displeased.
"And what if you do?" Joseph asked dismissively.
"I... I'll cry!" Burne retorted, realizing he couldn't win the argument and feeling somewhat deflated.
"Get out of here!"