The Duke's Passion

Chapter 793 The cruel fates of the warriors

[ COLOSSEUM ]

Two months since the time Claude set foot in the Spade Kingdom and became a warrior to entertain. His cruel methods almost gained him instant popularity. Claude could've done something better than fight all day, create a bloodbath, and listen to the vicious cheers of the people. Warriors. In some land, that word brought honor and valor attached to it. But in this land, warriors were considered beasts who had to tear their enemies apart without mercy for entertainment. Entertainment. One should know that entertainment had its unspoken limit. Life was not something to consider as part of it, even though life itself was full of mockery.

Claude was sitting in the corner of the chambers where the warriors were held. Chamber, as in this tiny cell as if they were prisoners. They were, though. Men who did a minor or huge crime that disobeyed the rules of the kingdom were being held in this place; their sentence was to fight to death. This wasn't a secret to everyone, though. Even the audience who would attend these fights were aware the warriors they were rooting for or booing were a criminal. What others didn't know was that not all warriors were actual criminals. Some of them were simply farmers who voiced their thoughts to the unfair king. What they got in return was that they were thrown into these very cells to fight for their life. To keep them busy was what the king, Zero, told them. Claude gazed at the injured men rotting in this cell from the corner. His knee was bent while his arm was resting on it. The men in here were the ones who got injured during their last battle. Some of them barely survived the fight, and they were all good men. 'Looking at them right now, I somehow think that His Majesty and I were wrong in choosing those scums who deserved to die,' he thought, thinking that Rufus and Claude had always chosen their opponents. Not that they initially had the privilege to choose, but Claude had his way with his words. Rufus, on the other hand, knew how to play with the facilitators. And thus, they get to choose who to execute in every battle. Those opponents never played fair and square, but in the end, since only the good was left, they still have to fight. At least, these men had to fight, but Claude and Rufus had already finished their last battle. There were no more bad guys since they would end the current regime. "You good?" asked the man sitting in the other corner of the cell. Claude slowly turned his eyes to the man. The man had a dark complexion and a great physique... if not for the severed leg and bandages across his body, he would be a great warrior.

A real one. A warrior he used to be.

"Of course," Claude smirked, staring at the fire in the man's eyes. "Are you?"

The man let out a scoff, gazing down at his severed hand. "That last battle was quick, a hard one."

Claude slowly rose to his spot, stretching his arms and spine. When he felt a satisfying crack on his back, he let out a hiss of satisfaction.

"That's good." He grinned, planting his hands on his hips. He cocked his head, seeing that they were simply looking back at him with poker faces, only to realize his action was a little insensitive of him. "Right... you're all injured and some of you can't stretch like that, huh?"

"This boy —"

"Well, anyway." Claude clapped, cutting off the man, who was immediately irritated at his remarks. "If you want to leave this place just as much as I do, then come with me."

Claude march towards the bars, ignoring the eyes that were following him. Claude still had his hands on his hips, cocking his head back, eyes on them. Without a second hesitation, he kicked the metal bars, and nothing happened.

"What are you doing, boy?" asked the man with a severed leg, frowning. "Getting out of here." Claude's lips stretched even brighter, and what they heard next was a cracking sound, before the piercing noise of the metal bar falling on the ground. "Let's go?"