The first to be cut off was the head of a young guard, who seemed to blink in surprise, both puzzled by why something in the dirt beneath his feet was higher than his own, and as if wondering why he could see his back.

His mechanical silver vine twitched as the last vegetative response of his nerves clung to his headless corpse.

Angelon ignored the throbbing pain that flashed in his heart.

The red-haired little boy was surprised to find someone who had put himself in his arms, chest, heart.

This is...... Where......?

He sniffled and blinked.

Hey, the stands wrapped in gems and gold look so high, so high, it turns out, it's just such a height, I can actually jump up!

The Colosseum fell into an eerie silence again when the warrior with the strange axe that suddenly appeared in his hand with a burst of lightning struck the crowd like a tiger rushing into the sheepfold and slashed the heads of these fat-brained tall riders.

Then the chaotic sound waves erupted, and there were even only a few people who fled, screamed for the guards, and cried, and many more spectators had protruding eyes and bloodshots, and they were frantically shouting for him and raising their arms for him.

"Angelon!" They screamed as they watched as the heads of the nobles rolled down one by one, and the blood of the riders, who had dressed themselves as gods, was splattered on the hot red soil of the pit, mingling with the blood of the beastmen, the lowly slaves, and the berserkers who had been lost by nails seeping into the sand, the same bright red, indistinguishable from each other.

"Angelon!" They seemed to have forgotten that they had been trying to force him with nails a moment ago, to kill him with nails, or that they had discussed how many nails it would take to kill their arena stars so that they would revel in the blood he was pouring out—

"Angelon!" They watched in fascination as he slaughtered the high platforms of the nobles, stumps and heads flew into the air, and everywhere he went, like a mill of flesh and a hurricane of blades, sprinkled a stud of flesh and blood with silver-white implants on their heads, and they reached out to catch it with a merry smile—

The great feast for the gods began, and the red light of the celebrant's body like the king's brocade robe became more and more apparent, and any injuries he suffered were completely healed as a new head hit the ground, and the screaming high riders and the nobles who came after him only dared to fire their various weapons at him from a distance, and those weapons could not even reach him, and he slashed stronger and stronger—and the gods were satisfied with the sacrifice they had received to erect a new hill next to the throne.

- Why didn't these people run away? Aren't they afraid?

- They only need someone to shed blood in their place, no one wants to be the one who bleeds, they don't care who the blood is, and the moment the person who bleeds is looked at as an object by them, they can't be considered "people".

- So they are evil?

They numb their minds with the blood of others, so that they can turn a blind eye to the real evil and others.

A man sat next to the red-haired boy.

He looked at him with wide golden eyes, this man was unlike anyone he had ever seen, he was tall, and he was taller than any barbarian he had ever seen, but Angelon Tark knew in his heart that he would never exceed his height.

The man wore a hood, and when he took it off and faced the boy with his face, the boy saw the serene baby blue eyes that shone with wisdom and years under the crown of thorns that had turned from golden to lighter gold due to the passage of time, neatly trimmed soft short hair, and a crown of thorns made up of psionic lightning.

- Who are you?

- I'm Julius Robert Omar.

- Sounds like a noble name.

- and I used to be a slave.

- Ever? Didn't you then?

- Yes, I met my master, my father, and I have ceased to be a slave since then.

- Well, but you've called him my lord.

- Ah, that is not the master, Angron, that is the name of the man whom you love and admire, and who is truly willing to drive him.

- Is that different?

- It's not the same. After I gave up the happiness of ignorance and voluntarily learned more truths, I knew that I was endowed with true love and freedom among all people. And after that I made my choice to call him my lord and my father again.

The boy sniffled.

- That sounds great. I have ...... too I also have Oynomouth! He didn't know much about it, but he taught me it all, and he was a really good guy.

- Indeed. Oh, see? He struck in front of the last of Deshei's high riders.

- See! He's so powerful! So powerful, but he's nothing like those berserkers with nails in their heads! He was able to calmly control his axe and stop! It's amazing, I've never seen anyone kill like this and still control themselves. Is he picking people to clean up the battlefield? What's he assigning to them next? It's amazing that everyone is cheering up! They all listened to him without a fight!

The boy looked around.

- His heart is so strong and hard yet so warm and delicate, I have never seen anyone with such a will...... If only I could be like this!

A smile appeared on the priest's lips.

- Yes.

He stood up and removed from his waist a large, chain-hung book with an unusually beautiful binding, as if it had been made of some kind of leather paper.

The boy's eyes were immediately drawn to the book, not only because he had barely seen anything like it up close, but also because the deep, instinctually encoded need for knowledge, or something like that, written in his blood and marrow, was fully stimulated the moment he saw it.

- Are you literate? Don't know much? It's okay, I'll teach you, Anglon. Come on, let's read together, this will be the beginning of a very interesting reading lesson.

(End of chapter)