Chapter 8: The Horus Gladiators

Chapter 8: The Horus Gladiators

There were two kinds of gladiators. The first were the free gladiators. They were free men who had signed a contract with the gladiator brokers who were compensated in various forms and also had the right to refuse any fights they deemed too dangerous for themselves. The second was the slave gladiators. They spent their entire lives fighting for the brokers that owned them until they died. Slaves in the Empire, like these men, were mostly barbarians or foreigners.

The Horus gladiators had set up a camp. A bonfire was burning through the night, and lively chatter loudly made its way throughout the camp.

“Hey, Urich, come eat your meal over here. That area is for the slaves,” the other free gladiators called out to Urich.

“Oh, I’m fine over here. I want to watch them for a while,” Urich answered as he waved his hands.

“Why would he want to watch the slaves? What a strange guy.”

“He’s a foreigner too. Where did he say he was from? He has a really unique accent.”

“Judging by his size, probably from the north?”

“Is he trying to find a fellow northerner among the slaves or something?”

The gladiators chattered about the newcomer. Urich shrugged off the chatter and walked over to where the slaves were gathered.

“Hmm? You’re the rookie. Your name was... Urich, right?” The guard watching over the slaves acknowledged him.

“Where is that slave over there from?” Urich asked the guard as he pointed at one of the slaves. The guard shrugged in response.

“He’s from the south, obviously. He’s short, and he’s got copper-colored skin. Guys like him are often from the south.”

“Really? So, you can tell the southerners and northerners apart just from how they look?”

The guard widened his eyes in surprise at Urich’s question.

“How could you not know that? Where are you even from?”

“I’m from the middle of nowhere. Here, take this as a payment for this chat.”

Urich tossed a ten-thousand-cil coin to the guard. The guard chuckled as he snatched the coin out of the air.

“Well, I’d rather have someone to talk to than just stand here staring at these slaves. The southerners, like I said, are usually smaller—shorter and skinnier. You’ll see a bigger southerner occasionally, but that’s usually not the case. They also lacked the manpower because of their size, so it didn’t take long for the Empire to take over their land. The problem was the northerners. You’re not from the north, are you?”

“I have nothing to do with the north. I’m just a foreigner who doesn’t speak Hamelian very well yet, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Is that so? I did hear that there were still some kingdoms that don’t speak our language... oh well. Anyway, the north was a pain for the Empire. It took us ten years to conquer them when it only took us a year to do the same with the south. It’s not like the northern land was any bigger than the south, but it still took us ten times longer. To this day, we still have a lot of old people who grind their teeth in anger whenever they hear about the northerners. Their resistance was so aggressive that it caused harm to the Empire as well.”

“Is the big one over there a northerner, then?” Urich picked out a bigger slave from the group.

“Oh? You’ve got decent eyes. You managed to pick out the only northerner in our group. That’s Sven, a slave gladiator who’s managed to stay alive for over three years now. As big as they are, they’re fierce and skilled in battle. Most of all, they are not afraid of death. They believe that those who die in battle go to heaven, which they call the Field of Swords. They also believe that dying of old age or illness doesn’t get you into heaven like dying in battle does. Pretty ridiculous if you ask me.”

“This old lady that I know also said that you’re treated well in the afterlife if you die as a warrior,” Urich remarked in response to the guard’s explanation.

“You can’t believe what old people say. You gotta know when to die when you’re that old.”

“When I was in the army ten years ago, we were sent out to conquer the barbarian lands in the south. I’ve seen and killed countless barbarians like you; Animals who still reek of beastly odor,” Donovan snarked with significant hatred.

Urich let out a light chuckle.

“What is this, are we just introducing ourselves now? ‘My name is Donovan. I was a soldier in the army, and I’ve slaughtered a lot of barbarians. Animals!’ What, you want me to introduce myself too?” Urich mocked Donovan with a mimic. Donovan’s face turned bright red from the embarrassment.

“Sleep with one eye open, rookie,” Donovan said with a malicious tone, but Urich shrugged off his threat like it was a joke.

“In my barbarian experience, there’s something critically wrong with you people.” Urich opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. “You guys talk too much with those busy tongues of yours, and I’ve been thinking about why... It’s because you don’t get your tongues cut off for talking so much, and because your necks and tongues are still intact, you can do all that talking again.”

Urich drew his sword from his belt.

Cling!

At the sound of Urich’s sword, the gladiators screamed and rushed to draw their weapons.

“H-he pulled out his sword! You really want to do this? Huh?” The gladiators shouted at Urich.

Urich lifted his sword and got into his battle stance. His muscles warmed up in preparation for the imminent fight. His eyes took on the color of a stone-cold killer.

“You insulted a warrior, and now you’ll pay for it with your lives, you loudmouths. I’ll split all your heads into two.” Urich’s ruthless words didn’t have a slight hint of humor. He was as serious as he had ever been, and his murderous intent filled the air with a distinct stench.

‘Is he actually trying to fight me?’

Donovan widened his eyes in surprise. He had no intention of bringing this to an actual fight. It was almost ritualistic for a rookie, a barbarian one at that, to go through a haze like this.

Urich was unlikely to win against a group of gladiators. And even if he did get through all of them, he’d just be surrounded by the armed guards anyway.

‘Does he really think he can win this? Or is this just a barbarian’s foolishness?’

Donovan drew his sword. As a veteran soldier and gladiator, he would never shy away from a fight. If he had to fight, he’d do so without hesitation.

The two men were about to cross their swords.

“Stop! Stop it, you idiots!” Horus rushed toward the two gladiators in a standoff. Someone must have reported the situation to him, or he may have been keeping an eye on the situation as he knew a fight had been brewing for some time.

“Don’t stop them, Horus! The barbarian drew his sword first. Where the hell did you find a barbarian to be your gladiator? He should be a slave like the other ones,” the other gladiators demanded of Horus. Urich silently prepared to counter the attack.

‘I have to parry the swing and slice his neck. I have to slash more than one with my first movement.’ Urich was actually intending to fight these gladiators.

“Stop it! You can’t die before you pay off your debts. If you really want to fight, do it in the arena! Urich, you took a hundred thousand cils from me upfront. Donovan, you already owe me over a million! Put your swords away. Otherwise, I’m turning the winner into a slave, regardless of who it is.”

Horus was furious. Donovan sheathed his sword without much rebuttal.

“If that’s what the leader wants, I’ll let you keep your pride,” Donovan muttered as he signaled the other gladiators. They all followed suit and withdrew their weapons.

“You got lucky, barbarian.”

The gladiators turned away.

“Who’s the lucky one?” Urich muttered as he plunged his blade into the ground. His sweaty muscles glistened in the reflection of the bonfire.