Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Horus was in the middle of organizing the matchups for the next gladiatorial tournament.

“Looks like we’re going to need some death row prisoners this time. I can’t believe the Varacal Gladiators only gave us three matches, stingy bastards,” Horus said as he read the list of the gladiators up for the tournament from the Varacal Gladiators.

“Then how about we give Wallen, Asval, and Kartan the matches with the death rowers? They’ve been pretty out of form lately, and I think it’ll be a good turning point for them,” Donovan suggested to Horus as he sipped on his wine. Whenever it was time to organize the matchups for the next tournament, Donovan sat right next to Horus, offering him his advice. It was his unspoken authority as the face of the squad.

“Wallen, Asval, and Kartan...” Horus scribbled the names of the gladiators to be matched up with the death row prisoners to fight them one-on-one.

‘A fight against these prisoners is basically free wins.’

It was practically an execution match. The gladiators played the role of executioner, brutally killing the condemned men to entertain and satisfy the blood-thirsty public. The gladiators seldom lost in these matches. Many gladiators sucked up to Donovan, and in return, they received good matches like this.

“I’ll book you in for the last fight. You’ll go against one of the slave gladiators of the Varacal squad.”

“Leave that to me, Horus. I’ll slaughter him with so much blood that it will make the crowd pass out.”

Donovan was known for his gruesome battles. Even when it was clear that he had won, he toyed with his opponent, slowly cutting the life out of them. He was well aware of the fact that the goal of these fights was ‘entertainment,’ rather than winning or losing.

Slam!

Suddenly, the door burst open. Donovan and Horus turned around. Urich was standing in the doorway.

“Urich?” Horus questioned as he slightly frowned at the unexpected visit, while Donovan openly showed his hostility.

“You shouldn’t be here, rookie.”

“Why not? I’m a free gladiator, just like you, Donovan,” Urich said slyly as he approached the two men at the table.

“No, we’re not the same. I’m the face of the squad while you’re just a nameless gladiator.”

“Hah, then I’ll just be the new face of our squad! Problem solved.”

Urich pulled up a chair and sat across the table from Horus.

“If you two are going to fight, take it outside. I’ll let one slide if you promise to only use your hands,” Horus sighed as he shook his head.

Urich drank the wine on the table and laughed.

“Hey, Leader Horus, I’m not here to fight with this guy! I was just interested in the matchups, that’s all.”

As soon as Urich’s words left his mouth, Donovan slammed his fist against the wall. The loud bang startled the gladiators that were outside the room.

“Don’t even think about sticking your nose in the match arrangements. Now, get lost before I kill you,” Donovan said in anger as the veins in his face started to rise. Urich put his foot up on the table with his arms crossed.

“Was I talking to you, Donovan? I don’t think so. I was talking to Horus.”

Horus considered the situation for a moment, then looked at Donovan.

“Relax, Donovan. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Horus was a clever man. He had been feeling more and more unsettled by the growing influence that Donovan had over his gladiators.

“Put me in for the last match,” Urich said to Horus. Donovan immediately threw a chair right past Urich.

Crash!

The chair shattered against the wall, spraying its broken pieces in all directions.

“Horus, are you just gonna sit there listening to this bullshit?”

“What do you mean?” Urich asked as he did his calisthenics. With every repetition of a push-up, every muscle fiber throughout his entire body rippled.

“I’m talking about your five-on-one match. Everyone’s already talking about it. Doing that in the arena is practically suicide. Back out of it now, before it’s too late. I feel bad because it feels like I drove you into this.”

Bachman’s plan was to get Urich to take on more spectacular fights than Donovan. Urich then would become the new face of their squad, taking over Donovan’s influence. Thanks to Bachman’s connections, more and more gladiators supported Urich as each day went by.

“You guys have no idea who I am and where I’m from. Well, how could you?”

Urich leaped to his feet, kicking the ground at the end of his single-armed push-up. He spun in the air using the momentum from his superior strength. His flexibility and agility belied his size.

“I love the confidence, Urich, but you have to be able to differentiate your confidence from recklessness.”

“The people in the civilization live with a lot of fear. They’re scared out of their minds before they even try.”

“No, it’s just that we don’t have to actually try something to know what’s going to happen. Look at the northern barbarians. Their futile resistance of ten years left their lands in ruins. The south surrendered in just one year and now they’re thriving, prospering in civilization.”

“What if I beat all the odds, and win?” Urich spun his axe around in his hand. He was loving his new axe.

“Then I won’t ever question your decisions again and just follow you.”

“Hah, you’re going to regret saying that. Keeping up with me is not going to be easy,” Urich said as he chuckled. He then threw his axe hard at the tree in the backyard. The blade sank deep inside the tree.

“Hey, asshole! Watch it! You almost hit me,” the startled gladiator who was doing his pull-ups by the branch yelled at Urich.

“Ah, sorry, my bad. I didn’t hit you so we’re good, no?” Urich said nonchalantly as he waved off the angry gladiator.

* * *

“A five-on-one? We’ll be lucky if he lasts more than a minute.”

“Did you not see his last fight? He won two two-on-ones back-to-back. He’s no ordinary guy.”

“Urich, was it?”

The arena was a good entertainment venue. No one wanted to bleed themselves, but they absolutely enjoyed watching other people’s blood spouting out of them. They sat above the walls, watching the gladiators struggle for their lives in the comfort of their spectator seats with pleasure.

Chatter, chatter.

The crowd streamed into the arena after paying for their admission. Among them were wealthy merchants and nobles of the city. The dignitaries sat in the reserved seats above the regular crowd, looking down on both the gladiators and commoners.

“Mr. Horus, Mr. Varacal, I’m looking forward to some great matches today,” the governor of the city said to the two heads of the gladiator squads. The two leaders bowed to show their respect.

The governor welcomed the visits of gladiator squads, as their tournaments were a great way to vent the public’s frustration. The more gruesome and bloodier the matches were, the happier their people left the arena.

“Although, I don’t really understand the final match. A five-on-one? If it ends too quickly, you will be disappointing a lot of people,” the governor said with a slight concern in his voice, and Varacal glared at Horus.

“It was Horus’ idea. He was very confident that it would be a killer match,” Varacal answered as he tossed the majority of the question over to Horus.

Horus hesitated for a moment, then said to the governor, “Urich is an exceptionally skilled gladiator. Whether he wins or loses today, it certainly will not be a boring match.”

“You’ll have to keep that word, Mr. Horus. The marketplaces are empty today because everyone came to the arena, probably to see that five-on-one match to see how one man can take on so many alone.”

Horus bowed his head as he spread his hands.

“You can look forward to it, Governor.”

The governor then finally nodded and poured the wine for Horus and Varacal.

‘My eyes for talent have never deceived me,’ Horus muttered as he sipped on his wine. He saw great potential in Urich. ‘I’m good at gambles like these.’

Horus looked down at the desolate arena.

The sand was burning from the hot rays of the sun, the crowds were getting rowdy, and the gladiators were readying themselves for another day of fighting for their lives.