Dragon's Tale 69

Three days after Theodora’s visit, I was once again preparing to step into the arena, this time with an exhausted expression on my face. The reason for it was simple, yet complicated at the same time. 

After that particular victory, my arena schedule suddenly exploded into a new level, forcing me to fight multiple times a day, feeding me a great number of potions to keep me in fighting shape. 

Master Antonius was next to me, looking at me with a kind expression. “Are you sure you can fight again? The last few days had been really exhausting. If we push for it, maybe we can cancel it. Of course, it would not help your reputation, and delay your freedom significantly…” 

“No need,” I answered, pushing my chest proudly, acting like I was too prideful to notice his weak manipulation. “I can handle it.” 

“If you think so,” Antonius said, a kind expression on his face, but despite his superficial smile, I could see the coldness in his eyes. “Again, I’m sorry about the schedule, but the pressure coming from the other schools is very difficult to counter.” 

His gaze reminded me of my uncle, which would have been enough to break all the trust I had felt toward him… 

If I had an ounce of trust in him in the first place. 

Technically, we had a deal, but a deal between a slave and an owner, especially when the said deal was verbal, had less weight than a breath, and that was before he suddenly decided to force me to a very intense schedule for the last couple of days. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate dealing with his ‘lesser’ no matter the circumstances, or the immensity of help he received. 

Not that his entitlement surprised me. 

“Go through one last check-up before the fight, just in case. We don’t want anything to happen to you, you’re important,” he said before patting my shoulder, while a healer walked toward me, and a glow appeared around me in an instant, his healing energy infusing into my body. 

Or at least, that was what I let the healer think, as tricking his magical diagnosis was ridiculously easy for a Sorcerer. My body had too many secrets for someone else to access. The diagnostic only showed the normal body of a warrior that’s on the edge of a breakdown, running on fumes. 

And the healer just nodded with a smile. “Everything is in order, just the energy levels are a bit low. Maybe a potion before the battle.” 

And that was the other reason I didn’t trust them. With the information his spell provided, any half-competent healer would have immediately called for a week-long bed rest coupled with a strong potion regiment for recovery, because I was faking that my vitality was burning up to keep me on my feet. 

Of course, considering he pulled a bottle filled with a glowing potion, one that would overdraft my potential to keep me upright for a few more days, the reason he didn’t follow with the correct treatment was obvious. 

The glint in Antonius’ eyes even as I drank the potion was all the evidence that the earlier talk was nonsense. The pressure from the other schools was a good excuse, of course, but their intentional drive to kill me — slowly, and not before profiting from it completely — clearly indicated something different. 

Then, I felt the impact of the potion, and barely prevented a frown from invading my face. The potion was stronger than I expected, forcibly trying to awaken my potential even more intensely. However, this time, something was different, because, with such intensity, there was no guarantee that I could even last until the end of the fight — if I had been just a barbarian slave, of course. 

Suppressing the potion was as easy as tricking the healer, even as I gave them a show of perking of, ready for an aggressive battle. 

Unfortunately, resolving their trick didn’t bring me any closer to understanding their sudden change of attitude. I wasn’t naive enough to think that, just because I managed to help the owner by killing one of their opponents and defeating the Nemean lion, they would be grateful to me. Expecting gratitude from a man using another’s death for entertainment was simply stupid. 

What he was doing was clear. He was clearly killing me slowly in an effort to maximize his own benefits before he got rid of me. Even his betrayal to our agreement was not surprising, as I expected it to happen ultimately. 

That still left the question of why. Why, instead of trying to use me for a few months, maybe even a year, he was trying to use me explosively, risking my burning. 

What had changed? 

Unfortunately, cheers rose from the arena, suggesting it was the time for my match, making me abandon that track of thought. “Are you ready?” Antonius said. “This battle is very important.” 

“Don’t worry, Lanista. there’s no one that can defeat me,” I said as I slapped my chest proudly, once again playing my role as a barbarian. 

“Good to hear. Then go out, and handle your fight, but try to take down your enemy slowly. If you show signs of exhaustion, it would be easier for me to stop them forcing this many battles for you.” 

“As you wish, Lanista,” I said, only a lifetime practice of hiding my homicidal emotions thanks to my dear uncle preventing me from stabbing the asshole with the spear in my hand. Of course, his desire for extended battle was clearly about something other than my wellbeing, like the wanted me to give an amazing show, before collapsing helplessly. 

His old face wrinkled further with an ugly smile despite his best attempts to look fatherly. “Go and make me proud,” he ordered. 

As I walked through the tunnel, I barely prevented myself from shaking my head in dismissal. It was unbelievable just how easily he was able to convince himself that I had swallowed every bit of his lies despite just a few days ago, I had explicitly told him that I was more complicated than just another barbarian. 

And I thought people had been underestimating me just because I was a bastard. It was nothing compared to the underestimation I received as a barbarian and as a slave. Not that I was complaining. It made it much easier to screw them up in the end. 

I couldn’t wait until the day he learned that particular lesson by my hands. 

The cheers exploded around me as I stepped into Colosseum, as each victory increased the number of fans. My eyes run through the crowd, only to notice some familiar figures on one of the most important seats. Olivia and Atia, two high-class beauties, were looking at me. Olivia had a smug, confident expression on, while Atia’s gaze was a mixture of shyness and concern. 

Interestingly, Marcus was still with them, looking down with a smug expression on his face, no doubt enjoying his lofty position, looking down on me like I was a bug. Since I had already taken what he wanted — not that he was aware of that little fact — his gaze didn’t bother me. 

Instead, I turned my gaze to the other end of the open sand field, where several beasts were jumping out of the tunnels. It was a huge snake, easily twenty feet long, thick enough that I couldn’t wrap my arms around it. 

I didn’t recognize its species, but with the obvious magic that was radiating from it, it was clearly magical, though, luckily, not enough to actually be classified as an ethereal beast. 

Even then, I tightened my hands around the spear even as the beast opened its mouth, revealing two large fangs, glistening with drops of venom. It was surprising for a beast of this size to actually have venom, and I had no intention of testing it directly. 

One good thing about fighting beasts almost exclusively — a perk I earned by making an enemy out of a Gladiator school famous for raising beasts — was that I didn’t have to think too deep about other unlucky slaves just to make a show. 

And if there was one bad thing, it was the reckless aggression that came with their training method. The snake barely wasted any time coiling before moving forward with an impressive speed, fast enough to catch me surprised as I managed to roll away only barely despite my reflexes. 

Luckily, that great speed was not without its cost, as it hit against the wall with a great crash, accompanied by panicked cries of the nearest observers, but the magical protection was enough to negate the damage. 

It still left the snake dazed enough for me to sneak toward it.

I delivered a stab to its tail before it react. It barely left a scratch, and I managed to roll back — but not before its tail jerked, delivering a painful hit to my ribs. Which was a surprise. The weapon they gave me should have been strong enough to actually penetrate through the scales. The mystery was getting deeper. 

I spent the next couple minutes, doing my best to dance around the snake as I delivered some shallow wounds that barely impeded the beast. Then, I reached the point the potion would lose its effectiveness. 

The snake lunged again, and I rolled back, making a great show of stumbling away even as the audience gasped in shock — though quite a number of them cheered as well. I had generated many fans during my short yet fancy career, but not everyone liked heroes to succeed. 

Some enjoyed their destruction, and the sudden hit of the beast gave them hope. 

I tried to stumble away, like my strength was completely drained. It charged forward again, I only avoided the hit halfway, sending me rolling away, making the audience even louder. Meanwhile, my gaze turned to a special place in the audience, catching the expression of one important person. 

Master Antonius, who was watching the fight with a small smile on his face, gave me exactly what I was looking for with my slow show. 

“Just as I expected,” I murmured even as I stood up. His earlier actions were already suspicious, and the fact that he didn’t give me an appropriate weapon that could cut through its scales was worse. 

All that was needed to be determined was whether he was actually rooting for my death, or he was just uncaring of the consequences. Luckily, that was an easy mystery to solve. 

The next time the snake coiled before jumping toward me, I didn’t try to dodge, but waited still until the last moment, and stabbed my spear through the roof of its mouth, and its momentum handled the rest, the perfect desperate last stand of a collapsing gladiator. 

Oh, it wasn’t without a cost, as while the spear prevented it from biting me, it still managed to slam me against the wall, which hurt despite all my physical prowess. 

However, it was a worthy exchange to see the sudden shock on Master Antonius’ face, whose mood was destroyed by my sudden victory. Apparently, my dear owner wanted me dead very determinedly… 

How very interesting, I thought even as I rose to my feet while the audience cheered, making a show of wounded exhaustion. I just needed to decide how to react…