Emotionless Swordsmanship Genius

Chapter 3: The Cruel Game (1)

In the vast, circular arena, an iron cage stood alone on the far side, its interior visible to all. Scattered around the bloodstained ground were various weapons, strewn about haphazardly.

Just by looking at it, no one could easily figure out what was expected of them.

Karon quickly tuned his ears to the sounds from the spectators. With his heightened senses, he could catch snippets of conversation from different parts of the crowd.

“Do they survive if they get inside that cage? Where are the beasts?”

Suddenly, the vivid memory of the piles of corpses he had seen on the way here and the many wounded and dead being carried out came flooding back.

That was when Karon realized what was going to happen. Once the children entered the arena, wild beasts would be unleashed to kill them.

To survive, they would have to make it to the cage before the door closed.

Karon’s gaze sharpened.

“The only place you can survive is inside that iron cage! Those who make it in before the gate closes will live! Now, run!” shouted one of the soldiers holding spears, who appeared to be the leader.

At that moment, the children all turned to look at the cage. Just as he said, the cage door was slowly descending from above.

“Ahhh!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the children began sprinting toward the cage.

But unlike the others, Karon didn’t move.

Waaah!

As the children rushed into the arena, the crowd erupted in cheers so loud that the ground shook.

Despite the chaotic atmosphere, Karon remained calm, scanning the arena walls.

As expected, iron gates embedded in the walls began to open, revealing what was hidden inside.

Roar!

Growl!

Charging out of the gates were lions, wolves, and bears—predators capable of easily killing a human.

The wild beasts, released from all directions, dashed toward the children covered in blood as if in a frenzy.

They had likely been starved for days and teased with the scent of blood. There was no way they could resist attacking.

At the sight of the sudden appearance of the beasts, nearly twenty children froze in fear. Some collapsed to the ground in terror.

However, a few brave children picked up fallen spears and shields from the ground, rushing desperately toward the cage.

The predators quickly overtook the lagging children, tearing into limbs and devouring heads. Every time a child was ripped apart, the crowd roared with excitement.

That was when Karon finally moved.

With the beasts distracted by the prey in the center of the arena, Karon began sprinting along the outer edge of the arena.

If he followed the curve of the arena, he could reach the cage on the opposite side.

The only problem was how long the beasts would remain distracted.

His movements were swift, so quick and discreet that neither the beasts nor the spectators immediately noticed. His lack of presence was still as potent as ever.

Karon moved like a small, agile panther, fast and stealthy. But soon, his stamina began to falter.

His pace slowed, and the beasts, having slaughtered the children in the center, began scanning the arena for new targets.

Before long, the predators turned their attention to the remaining children, and one wolf locked eyes with Karon.

Grrrrr

In that instant, Karon felt a surge of electricity course through his body, sharpening all his senses. He could feel every muscle fiber in his legs.

Instinctively, he pushed his leg muscles to their limit, optimizing every movement for maximum speed.

His pace, which had been slowing, suddenly accelerated, and he sprinted toward the cage at a breakneck speed.

The wolf gave chase, but Karon reached the cage just in time.

Waaahh—

The crowd finally noticed Karon’s presence, astonished at his skill, and began cheering for him.

Clanggg—

The iron gate of the cage was almost at the ground.

Karon could see the children in front of him frantically swinging their spears and shields, trying to fend off the beasts. They were unintentionally serving as his shield.

But how much strength and skill could children who weren’t even adults have? One by one, they became the beasts’ prey.

Just as the cage door was about to close—

Slash!

Karon slid with all his might, skidding under the gate just before it shut.

The wolf that had been chasing him clawed at the bars, barking and growling as it failed to reach him.

“Save… me…”

One child, who had managed to survive until the end, was dragging himself toward the cage, having lost the lower half of his body. He reached out with both arms, but eventually stopped moving.

“Huff… huff… huff…”

Karon finally let out heavy breaths, trying to calm his wildly beating heart.

Looking down at the boy who had come so close to the cage, Karon’s expression remained detached as he surveyed the arena.

Waaahh—

Ooohhh!

The cheers from thousands of spectators were all directed at Karon.

Out of nearly twenty children, Karon was the sole survivor.

Even in the face of this cruel reality, where children were slaughtered for sport, Karon merely caught his breath and observed the situation.

Up in the highest tier of the Colosseum, a figure watched the scene unfold with a curious expression.

* * *

The Colosseum was divided into five levels.

The highest level was reserved for royalty, the next for nobility, the middle level for wealthy individuals, the lower level for commoners, and the underground level for slaves and peasants.

Of course, the seats closest to the arena were reserved for the upper class, but most senior officials, bored of the games, preferred to stay in the upper tiers.

Among them, in the upper levels of the Colosseum, was the section for nobles.

Here, they could enjoy the spectacle in luxury, with the entire arena laid out before them, seated in soft wooden chairs finished with natural marble and plush silk cushions.

Even within this section, seating arrangements and furnishings varied depending on the rank and status of the nobles.

Not only were there luxurious decorations and statues adorning the interior behind the viewing stands, but there were also facilities for the nobles—saunas, baths, and spaces for indulging in alcohol and other sensual pleasures.

In one of these private saunas, two men were lounging naked, enjoying wine and fruit.

Beneath them, women were eagerly using their mouths and hands to entertain the men.

“This game is starting to bore me,” one of them said.

“Yes. That’s why the next match we are preparing is—”

At that moment, a sharp-looking man burst into the sauna in a hurry.

“Senator Montecorato, the match is over,” he said.

“Good. How much did we make this time?”

The man who asked, a 50-year-old with toad-like features, sagging flesh, and eyes that seemed to slant outward, was none other than Montecorato. He was a senator of the Rob Empire and in charge of the Colosseum.

The intruder hesitated before carefully speaking.

“Actually… we lost it all.”

“What?”

Montecorato’s expression darkened as he glared at the man.

“One child survived.”

“Damn it! Damn this wretched—!” Montecorato stood up abruptly, throwing his goblet across the room.

“You said none of them would survive this time! Do you even realize how much money I bet? Who’s the one who took it all?”

“Senator Hilter, sir.”

Upon hearing this, Montecorato hurriedly donned the clothes handed to him by one of the women.

“Damn it! Of all people, that ignorant fool! Where’s the brat who survived?”

“We’ve locked him up in the Colosseum’s underground prison.”

“Lead the way! I’m going to twist his neck myself. And round up every one of the executioners who planned this. I’ll kill them too!”

“Yes, sir.”

The man led Montecorato down the stairs into the depths of the Colosseum.

As the stench thickened and the air grew murkier, they passed through darkened hallways, where everyone they encountered immediately knelt, bowing their heads in submission.

Everyone knew of Montecorato’s cruelty. He considered people lower than livestock, killing them in gruesome ways for sport without a hint of guilt.

“This way, Senator,” the man said as they reached the slave dungeon.

The dungeon was more of a pen for beasts than a place to hold humans. It was cramped, filthy, and unfit for anyone to live in.

At the far end, in a small, narrow cell, a boy was shackled to the walls, his hands and feet bound.

Montecorato squinted, covering his nose with a handkerchief as he spoke.

“It’s just a kid? Open it.”

One of the underground guards quickly unlocked the cell.

Clang!

As soon as the door opened, Montecorato snatched the sword from the guard’s waist.

Startled, the guard stepped back, while the slender man stood by, indifferent to the unfolding scene. He had witnessed Montecorato kill too many people to feel much about it anymore.

“Do you have any idea how much money I lost because of you? I’m going to cut you into pieces, starting from your toes. You’ll learn what real pain is.”

Montecorato pressed the sword’s tip against Karon’s cheek, slicing through the skin.

Blood trickled down, but Karon’s expression remained unchanged. This caused Montecorato to narrow his eyes.

“What’s with this brat?”

When he turned to the man accompanying him, the man gave a perplexed look and answered.

“We tried torturing him a few times to see if he had been sent by someone, but he didn’t speak or show any reaction. It’s like he doesn’t feel pain or emotions at all. He’s… unique.”

“Is that so? Fine. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Montecorato moved the sword down toward Karon’s toes, preparing to cut them off.

“Senator Montecorato.”

A clear, young voice interrupted. Montecorato didn’t need to see who it was—he recognized that voice immediately.

It belonged to Merka de Agrofon, the Emperor’s second son, who was notorious for meddling in the Colosseum’s affairs.

Montecorato’s face twisted for a moment before returning to a forced smile. He turned around, hiding the sword behind his back, though it was still quite visible. It was merely an act of courtesy.

The slender man and the guard had already withdrawn, bowing deeply, too afraid to raise their heads.

Merka, who had glossy blond hair, flawless skin, a straight nose, and neat eyebrows, looked to be about Karon’s age. Standing behind him, as always, was General Eugenia, a towering figure with a scar running diagonally across her face.

“Greetings, Prince Merka. What brings you to such a wretched place?” Montecorato said, feigning respect with an overly polite tone.

“You weren’t about to kill the child who passed the trial, were you?” Merka asked, glaring at him.

Montecorato, sheepish, waved his hand and forced a smile.

“Of course not. But may I ask, Your Highness, why would you have any interest in such a worthless boy?”

At that, General Eugenia stepped forward, exuding an aura of overwhelming authority.

“Senator Montecorato, who are you to question the Prince?”

Montecorato immediately dropped to his knees, unable to meet their eyes.

“Forgive me! I spoke out of turn. Please, forgive me.”

“Stand,” Merka said gently.

Montecorato rose slowly, backing away with his head still bowed.

“Thank you. I will take my leave now.”

“Senator Montecorato,” Merka called out just as the senator was about to leave.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“If you kill this child, you will regret it,” Merka said coldly.

“I understand. I will keep that in mind,” Montecorato replied, his voice icy as he responded to the prince.

Merka knew full well of Montecorato’s crimes.

Montecorato bowed deeply and stepped back. His face, hidden from view, was twisted in rage.

‘If I can’t kill him myself, I’ll just send him to a living hell!’

Montecorato had already decided to send Karon to a place called “Palemon,” a lawless wasteland at the southernmost borders of the Rob Empire, known as the “Antlion Pit.”

A sinister smile crept onto Montecorato’s face as he left the underground dungeon.