2 (9)

Louis entered the waiting chamber where the gladiators were held. To call it a “waiting room” was generous—it was closer to a prison. The prisoners slumped against the wall in a line, each one shackled with iron manacles that could not be undone.

Food had been scarce, and most of them were in poor condition, yet their eyes still burned with life. None spoke, but their desperate struggle to survive spoke through their eyes.

Though swords and shields had not yet been given out, the slivers of sunlight piercing the darkness dazzled their eyes, while the roar outside set their hearts pounding. The tension, boiling toward an explosion, brought terror to some and feverish excitement to others.

Louis felt all their eyes converge on him, and he resonated with their emotions. For him, it was excitement. He could not hide it as he spoke his first words.

“…Do you hear me?”

The noise of the citizens echoed steadily, like a heartbeat.

“None of you intend to refuse to fight, but once in the arena, some may falter. Yet in the instant someone freezes, those who long to live will plunge their blades into them. From that moment… your thoughts will change. To the survivors, I shall grant a new title: not prisoners, but gladiators. In the governor’s name, I say this. Now… move. Those who are not yet gladiators. Soon, you will learn to crave the cheers of the crowd.”

Louis drove the sword he held into the platform.

Kwa-deuk…!

The momentum lent by his Trait was powerful enough to stir even those paralyzed by fear. This was the opening act. The bloodier it was, the better—and Louis, too, focused on that point. Both sides were given ten men each.

The arena’s structure was simple. When the doors at ground level opened, the slaves, armed only with swords and shackled in pairs, would be driven in. The shackles both restrained their movements and forced them to defeat their opponents in order to escape. Their partners had been chosen in advance, giving them some time to coordinate in prison.

But however Louis framed it, unless the audience reached a fever pitch, the Colosseum’s special effect would not manifest. If he meant to erase the city’s Unhappiness for a month, this first opening was crucial. Even he, who trusted the Civilization System, did not know how it would turn out. He only knew the tension was not ominous—but exhilarating.

The prisoners rose and were herded by soldiers toward the arena gate. Some trembled like aspen leaves. Even those who had once faced the scaffold quailed under the pressure of this moment. They lined up and each picked up the weapons scattered before them, breathing heavily. The only thing left was for the iron gate to rise.

In the special seats overlooking the arena sat Dekal, conversing with his retainers.

“Quite the turnout.”

“It’s a full house, sir. Look above you.”

Dekal raised his head where his subordinate pointed. Despite the rickety structure, people crowded onto it, leaning over the edge to look down. He clicked his tongue.

“This is why they are rabble.”

Yet he, too, had come out of curiosity, blind to his own hypocrisy. The scorn of class differences had sunk too deep through history for him to even reflect.

“And Max?”

“He says he has no wish to join such a barbaric and foolish spectacle.”

“Heh heh… Well, it begins.”

The doors began to creak open. The first contest of the Colosseum was about to begin. To most nobles, including Dekal and Max, Louis was nothing but a useless dandy. If he had been skilled at anything, his reputation would not have been so low, and his faction not so weak. But Count Hansen’s defeat and Louis’s steps thereafter had made some cautious—though still not enough for them to speak openly.

Perhaps even Proia’s administrators had never seen Louis so obstinate. This was the first time his independent policy as governor was about to bear visible fruit. As the gates opened fully, Louis stepped outside and surveyed the scene.

‘The crowd is enough. But will it work?’

The unspoken fear of failure gnawed at him, but it did not last long. Everything was set, and only the result remained. At last, the prisoners, clutching only swords, appeared beneath the heavy gate. The tension spreading through the Colosseum told Louis he had succeeded.

‘Go forth, gladiators.’

A profound hush fell. For many citizens, this was their first time seeing such combat. For participants and spectators alike, it was the first. If the Colosseum spread, this moment would be historic. The silence shattered almost immediately: one prisoner suddenly lunged and slashed the leg of a man frozen in fear.

Seconds passed before the victim understood what had happened. Blood spilled across the sand, and as he collapsed, he saw prisoners locked in savage struggle. A thunderous roar erupted from the crowd. Human instinct would not miss such a spectacle.

Louis’s Civilization System chimed in rapid succession.

Louis was stunned by the flood of points—but even more by the bloody spectacle ten prisoners were putting on. No one had imagined it would be so thrilling. Even Louis, who had combat experience, found his pulse racing.

Even Dekal, seasoned by many battlefields, was so engrossed he forgot to chew his grapes. The reason was clear: unlike real war, here the spectators were perfectly safe, while the prisoners fought a desperate struggle of blood and death. That gulf struck the deepest chord of human instinct.

“Incredible…”

A prisoner was skewered and fell, and his partner immediately severed the fallen man’s hand without hesitation. It was natural—he could not afford to die weighed down by dead weight. That brutal logic drew Dekal’s admiration. This was not a battlefield, yet it revealed one’s raw glimpse. Kalbang, dazed, turned to Louis.

“My lord… it’s a great success. Truly, you were right.”

The Colosseum seemed to tremble with the fervor of the crowd. Even those once indifferent would now feel compelled to learn what was happening here.

In mere moments, four had died, two were wounded, and the rest stood locked in savage combat. The prisoners on the right were faltering, driven into a corner. They waved their blades in desperation, but the left-side prisoners, emboldened, pressed in to surround them.