The grandstand of the colosseum had been fully packed since early in the morning. Today’s gladiator match was a huge one that had been advertised for a long time: a bloody battle between a monster and a human. This had people brimming with excitement. Sightings of monsters or demons were rare in the outskirts of the empire, unless an event was taking place.

In the past, when the emperor had been killing gods, numerous legendary monsters had been killed along with them. Monsters or demi-humans were generally created to fulfill the needs of the gods. Because of that, the death of a god was directly connected to the survival of a species.

Eventually, the demi-humans became the slave class in the society, while demons and monsters were driven close to extinction. What remained was just a handful of monsters living beyond the borders.

Tantil’s citizens, as well as spectators that came from all over the world, were excited as they talked about today’s match.

“Of course, the champion, Rekto, will win! Have you forgotten how he asked for three people to fight against him in the challenge match and won against all of them?” one of the spectators asked.

“Even so, he’s only the strongest within Tantil. I heard that the manager brought Centurion Rampage from the eastern city just for today’s event. Even though he’s retired, do you think his centurion title was just for show?” one of the spectators boasted.

“A retired gladiator that gambled his life away should just get lost,” another of the spectators sneered.

“Yeah, even though Rekto looks a little ugly, he’s better,” one of the spectators added on.

“You fools, they’re both still just humans. Among the monsters that will be appearing today is a one-eyed giant that they caught from beyond the borders. How would a monster that could only be subjugated by an army be defeated by a few slave gladiators?” yet another of the spectators snorted.

“Hmm, a one-eyed giant? Isn’t that a little far-fetched?” one of the spectators exclaimed.

“Well, you never know. If they really managed to get a one-eyed giant here today then...” another spectator trailed off.

The manager heard the commotion among the spectators from where he was seated. He sat closest to the arena, yet still had the best view in the colosseum. Despite hearing the spectators’ excited voices, Daeron’s face remained stiff.

Although he carried a hardened expression usually, it was even worse today. Even the grandstand filled with enthusiastic spectators could not change his stiff expression. His subordinates were inevitably nervous around Daeron, since he was especially sensitive in times like this. At that moment, someone approached him thoughtlessly.

“It looks like the spectators want me to get out there quickly,” remarked Rekto, the champion of gladiators at Tantil.

Rekto would usually be on standby at the participants’ waiting area, but Daeron had called for Rekto because he wished to check on his condition.

A swordsman with a cold and indifferent face stood blankly behind Rekto. The swordsman was skinny and had muscles built in the right areas; by comparison, Rekto’s huge physique was rather plump.

“Rekto, Rampage,” Daeron greeted the pair as he walked towards them, tapping them on their shoulders.

Daeron continued, “Looks like the spectators have great expectations for today’s match, I have faith in your performances today.”

“Kahaha, don’t worry. I’ll snap the neck of this bony man here!” Rekto roared.

“How much would I be getting for this match? I’d like to get it in advance and bet all of it on myself,” Rampage asked Daeron.

“Ha! Looks like you’ll become a penniless beggar then! Oh, I guess you won’t need the money since you’ll be dying anyway? Kahaha!” Rekto sneered at Rampage.

“I’ll put some of my winnings on your grave,” Rampage smirked.

“Don’t talk big at this point, the prize money will be given only to the victor,” Daeron told both of them.

Rekto and Rampage’s eyes narrowed at his words. While their lives might have always been a mess, they had climbed to where they were today using their own abilities. They had noticed what Daeron was trying to hint at.

“Well, is there really going to be a one-eyed giant?” Rekto asked.

“...What a fool. Do you think we would have missed seeing a one-eyed giant in the colosseum? You wouldn’t say something so ridiculous if you’d actually seen one in real life,” Rampage ridiculed.

“It could be a small one, couldn’t it?! If I cut off the head of a beanpole like you, then you’d be shorter too, wouldn’t you?!” Rekto raged.

“Not a one-eyed giant, but someone as dangerous as one,” Daeron smiled, but still did not disclose who it would be.

Rekto and Rampage became nervous. If Daeron said that, then things could be really dangerous.

They each recalled the terrifying monsters they knew as they went down to the waiting room, but what came to Daeron’s mind wasn’t a monster or an outstanding gladiator, but a certain slave boy. ‘If it weren’t for that fanatic’s interference…’

Daeron had felt his whole body tingle with excitement from the moment the boy took down the guards and charged toward him. He had realized the boy’s potential as he watched the boy fight with Sina. The senses of an entertainer that lay dormant within him awoke. He hadn’t experienced much excitement in the last few years despite living and investing his entire life in the colosseum.

Rekto and the rest of the other champions weren’t as interesting, so much so that Daeron had been considering the former’s retirement. But it was different when he saw Juan; the young boy’s bloodlust was so strong that Daeron felt like he went back into the past when he had just been a young merchant.

He was sure that Juan was the real deal, based on the reports of the soldiers who he had arranged to monitor Sina. There was no way he would miss this opportunity because he had been waiting for the birth of a hero. Perhaps this was the reason he hadn’t given up on gladiatorial matches. If things went according to plans today, then a new hero would be born. Daeron prayed, ‘Your Majesty, please show your presence here.’

***

The doors to the arena opened up as the slave gladiators ran onto the crimson sand. The spectators cheered wildly for the ten participants fighting in the first match.

Most of the participants were either demi-humans or ostracized races, so this was the first time in their lives that they had been cheered on like this. Amongst the frenzied excitement, the usually cowering participants raised their swords or waved in return. But they were mere baits placed in the field to hype up the atmosphere.

“Aaaahh!” a scream was heard less than thirty seconds after the match started.

The spectators laughed, booing at the gladiators who died pathetically, as if the cheering from earlier hadn’t happened at all. Juan silently watched the slave gladiators die one after the other from behind the iron bars. ‘Things are exactly as they were in the past.’

The only thing that could be said to be different was that Tantil’s citizens used to suffer at the hands of the heretics, but now, they were the ones going crazy over the fight. Juan felt extreme disgust boiling up from within.

On the field were three desert trolls against ten gladiators. Desert trolls were notorious for hiding within the sand and ambushing passing animals or travelers. They were also known to be more tenacious compared to normal trolls and had poison in their blood. But what made them fatally dangerous was their grip strength, which was several times stronger than a normal troll. Moreover, people found it hard to catch them or even spot them since they hid in the sand.

The spectators were actually more excited at the appearance of the desert trolls than the gladiators because they were usually the strongest monsters in other gladiatorial matches. Typically, stronger monsters would appear as the matches progressed, so the spectators were inevitably excited, looking forward to the subsequent matches.

The ten gladiators were all slaughtered without having been able to put even a scratch on the desert trolls. It was to be expected though, since the gladiators weren’t trained to wield swords, not to mention coming up with strategies.

A gladiator could be seen with chattering teeth as he stood by the side of the colosseum. He seemed to be quite the coward in contrast to his large and muscular build as his hands trembled.

“Hey, don’t be so scared. Desert trolls can smell fear. Look at that kid, he’s totally unfazed,” another gladiator said as he got annoyed at his trembling comrade. The trembling gladiator nodded and hugged himself tight, but it didn’t do him any good. The annoyed gladiator didn’t continue speaking; he, too, started trembling in fear.

Juan was the only one who looked unfazed.

***

“Next!” someone shouted as the colosseum cleared. The iron bars before Juan rose, and he felt someone push him from behind. Juan ran towards the arena with the rest of the gladiators. The bright light that greeted him stung/blinded his eyes, the spectators’ cheers deafened Juan. With mouths stained with blood, the desert trolls smiled devilishly at their new victims.

“A-Ahh...” one gladiator who stood beside Juan groaned as he peed in his pants while another gladiator comforted the others, saying that they could win if they fought together. But he couldn’t even hear what he was actually saying.

The roaring of the cheers gradually died down as they spotted Juan. A kid who looked less than ten years old was in the field? A kid in ragged clothes who only had a short sword in his hands, with no other armor or defensive tools. It looked as if the kid was sent into the arena by mistake.

Children weren’t sent to fight in the colosseum usually; while there might be some perverts who liked to watch women or children get killed, sending a kid to fight in this event which was meant to celebrate the emperor’s birthday was more like blasphemy.

As the whispers in the colosseum got louder, some of them started to jeer at Daeron. The desert trolls couldn’t care less about all of that as they approached the group who had entered with Juan, while swallowing their saliva as they sniffed the delicious smell of fear that came from them. But another party had also entered the colosseum at the same time.

“Line up!” The gladiators from the other party started marching in sync in response to the order. Rampage and six gladiators, each equipped with a spear and a shield, stood in formation on the left side of the arena. They looked like proper soldiers as the color of their outfit and spear heads were the same.

“Ohhh... Are they from the military?” one of the spectators speculated.

“They sure look like it,” another replied.

The spectators’ attention quickly shifted over to Rampage and his small squad. Rampage had been a centurion who used to command hundreds of soldiers in the rebel-infested East. Although he currently only led six squad members, it was more than enough to take care of the desert trolls. They weren’t worried that the desert trolls would break their defense formation at all.

“Kahaha, Rampage. I guess you’re only confident of winning when you’re behind a shield and a spear, huh?” Rekto taunted Rampage as he and his subordinates entered the colosseum from the other side. They were half-naked while carrying all sorts of oddly shaped weapons and shouted, provoking not just the desert trolls, but also Rampage.

“Rekto! Rekto! Rekto!” The spectators went crazy at Rekto’s provocation. While Rekto was reckless, he was Tantil’s Champion and knew how to stir up a crowd.

Juan and his party had been long forgotten. The desert trolls growled and became wary as they were surrounded by more gladiators, who all looked much tougher than the previous group of prey.

The desert trolls quickly decided on and locked onto their first target instinctively: the weakest of the groups, Juan’s party.