Chapter 66 Truth
A wave of palpable relief had washed over the twenty survivors. For the prisoners, it was the end of a long, bloody road. For Skele, it was the end of a terrifying detour.
The air, once thick with the metallic scent of blood and tension, now seemed to lighten with the promise of closure. The announcer, beaming with theatrical pride, ensured all eyes were on him as the mechanical platform carried him to the center of the arena.
"My lords, my ladies! You have witnessed history! You have seen the limits of strength and the will to survive tested to their absolute extremes!" his voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls.
"But what you may not know is the story behind these ten formidable warriors from the depths of Markur!" He gestured dramatically towards the group of prison veterans.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. This was a new flavor of drama.
"Years ago," the announcer continued, his tone shifting to one of mock solemnity, "a pact was struck! A deal of honor between the noble houses of this great island and these… formidable individuals. They were offered a path to redemption, a chance to wash away their past sins.
The terms were simple,one hundred victories in our glorious arena. One hundred demonstrations of their might and their worth. And upon that one hundredth victory… they would be granted their freedom!"
The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and astonished chatter. It was a brilliant narrative, and they were eating it up. Skele, standing with his arm still casually slung over the chubby man's shoulder, felt a genuine, if selfish, thrill. A hundred fights?
No wonder they're so strong. But it's over now. We can all get out of here.
The announcer smiled, feeding off the energy. "Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, was not just any victory! Tonight was the culmination of that long journey! Tonight was their one hundredth…"
"That is quite enough."
A new voice cut through the amplification crystal, dry and cold.The announcer's smile vanished, replaced by a look of sheer panic as a man in his mid fifties stepped onto the announcer's platform from a private bridge connected to the most opulent box.
He was dressed in severe, dark silks, his face a mask of aristocratic disdain. With a gesture so dismissive it was an insult, he snatched the microphone from the announcer's trembling hands.
The crowd fell into a confused hush. This was unexpected.
"I am Marquess Valerius," the man stated, his voice needing no theatricality to carry to every corner of the stadium. It was the voice of power, accustomed to being obeyed.
His eyes, like chips of flint, swept over the ten prisoners, then lingered with cold curiosity on Zion and the beast, Amilios. A slow, deep laugh rumbled in his chest, a sound devoid of any real humor.
He turned his gaze back to the ten prisoners, his expression one of pure contempt.
"Don't tell me," he said, his voice dripping with condescension, "that you actually thought mere prisoners had the right to make a deal with nobles? That your word, the word of criminals, could ever be binding against ours?"
He paused, letting the silence amplify his next words. "We fed you. We clothed you. We sheltered you, despite the monstrous crimes festering in your past. And instead of being thankful for our mercy, you stand here with the shameless, selfish gall to demand a reward?"
A tremor ran through the group of ten. The injustice of the words was a physical blow.
One of them, a man with fierce black hair and a face etched with a lifetime of hardship, could no longer contain himself. The dam of discipline and patience built over a hundred battles shattered.
"CRIMINALS?!"
The word was a raw, guttural scream that tore through the arena's silence. Every vein in his neck and forehead bulged, his face turning a dark shade of crimson. "WE ARE KNIGHTS!" he roared, his voice cracking with a pain that was decades old.
"We sacrificed our entire lives for this kingdom! We bled on its borders, we buried our brothers for its glory! And the kingdom, instead of acknowledging our service, grew afraid of our power!
Afraid of the very weapons they had forged! So they lied, they conspired, and they put us in CAGES!"
His chest heaved, the truth he had held inside for so long finally unleashed. "Our only crime was being too strong for the weaklings in power to control!"
Marquess Valerius did not even flinch. He watched the outburst with the detached interest of a scientist observing a volatile chemical reaction. A faint, cruel smile played on his lips as the black haired knight finished, his body trembling with rage and despair.
"A compelling performance," the Marquess said softly, his voice carrying perfectly in the dead quiet. Then, he simply lifted a single finger.
From the shadows at the edge of the arena, two guards in ornate, full plate armor emerged. They moved with a grim, practiced efficiency. Before the black haired knight could even register their approach, they drove their long, heavy spears forward with brutal force.
One took him in the side, the other in the thigh. The sharp, sickening sound of metal tearing through flesh and muscle was horrifically loud.
The knight gasped, his fiery eyes widening in shock more than pain. He looked down at the spearheads protruding from his body, then back at the Marquess, a profound betrayal dawning in his gaze.
The Marquess looked past the dying man, his eyes scanning the other nine prisoners, whose faces were frozen masks of fury and helpless grief.
"You see?" Valerius said, his voice rising in mock confusion. "If you were truly the strongest knights in the kingdom, as you claim… why weren't you able to dodge such slow, normal attacks?"
He threw his head back and laughed, a loud, heartless
HAHAHA!
That echoed in the eerie silence, a sound that would haunt every person who heard it.
The chubby man next to Skele, his body tense, leaned in and whispered, his voice thick with a grief he dared not show openly.
"Tsk the only reason he couldn't dodge… was because he didn't want to."
Skele, his own blood running cold, tore his eyes from the Marquess to look at the chubby man. "What?"
"The moment he dodged" the man whispered.
"the moment he fought back, the Marquess would have sent orders to have his family executed. His wife. His two young daughters. They are the Marquess's… 'guests'. Most of us are in similar situations. Our families are the chains they put on us long after the physical ones were removed."
Skele looked back at the black haired knight, who was now slowly sinking to his knees. The righteous anger was gone, replaced by a deep, heartbreaking sorrow.
To die in a shitty place like this, Skele thought, a cold knot tightening in his stomach. The ideals of justice he'd occasionally entertained seemed like a child's fantasy now. In this world, justice was just a fancy word the powerful used to decorate their cruelty.
The knight fell onto his back, his blood pooling on the sand, dark against the golden grains. His tear filled eyes looked past the glaring arena lights, up towards the night sky. The stars were out, brilliant and uncaring, their cold light shining through the open roof.
So beautiful, he thought.
His vision beginning to blur. To die and leave my family in this world… it is my only regret. A final, desperate prayer formed in his mind, a message sent to the cosmos. Dear stars… please witness my family. Watch over them. Let them survive. That… is all I ask…
As the darkness crept in at the edges of his sight, he saw something strange. One of the clouds, high above, seemed to be descending.
It moved with a purpose unlike any natural weather. A faint, absurd hope flickered in his dying heart.
Am I… going to heaven? I hope… my family can… one day…too
And then, he saw no more.
The cloud, of course, was Moon. He descended slowly, silently, until he hung just above the arena floor, a silent, nebulous observer to the Marquess's triumph.
The Marquess himself frowned slightly, looking up at the meteorological anomaly, his triumphant laughter finally dying in his throat.
The atmosphere, which had been tense, was now charged with else. Curiosity and most of all , little fear of the unknown.
Even for these that had seen the world, this moment was quite the shock. Of all things , a cloud was descending.
Then one of the random people in the audience jolted awake as if she was having an enlightenment.
" It must be one of the people doing this. There are people that can call for lighting, a lone cloud could also be ability"
The whole crowd finally seemed to have seen through this bizarre moment and were about to be relieved.
" Sorry to disappoint you but i would say am pretty much alive"