Chương 271: Boss of the Games

The bronze-haired man's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, amusement flickering across his features before settling into something sharper, something more attentive. He leaned back slightly, studying the masked warrior seated before him as though reevaluating a piece on a game board.

"Oh," he said at last, a quiet chuckle escaping him, "you are quick. I like that." The room itself was strangely refined for a place hidden beneath a blood-soaked colosseum. Thick stone walls muffled the deafening screams of the crowd above, reducing them to little more than distant vibrations beneath the floorboards. Warm torchlight danced across polished wooden furniture and glass cabinets lined with expensive liquor bottles collected from across Irea.

The scent of iron and sand still clung to Vale's armor, yet in here it mixed with aged alcohol and old parchment, creating an atmosphere that felt less like a gladiator's chamber and more like the office of a wealthy merchant. The bronze-haired man slowly crossed the room toward a pair of leather chairs positioned opposite one another.

"Sit," he said calmly as he lowered himself into one of them. Vale narrowed his eyes beneath the onyx mask. For a moment he remained standing, measuring every movement within the room. Lucias stayed nearby as well, his remaining hand resting loosely near his spear, though his posture was relaxed enough to suggest trust. Eventually, Vale stepped forward and sat across from the man, leaning back just enough to appear comfortable while remaining ready for violence if necessary.

Silence followed between them for several seconds. Then Vale finally spoke.

"So," he said evenly, "what exactly should I call you?" The man paused midway through opening a glass cabinet. His brow lifted slightly in surprise before another low laugh escaped him.

"My name?" he repeated.

"That's bold." He retrieved a dark bottle from the cabinet, uncorking it with practiced ease.

"My name doesn't matter here," he continued.

"All you need to understand is that this colosseum moves according to my will. Every beast brought into the arena, every wager placed in the stands, every scream echoing above us…" He poured himself a drink slowly.

"I know about all of it." The liquid shimmered amber beneath the torchlight.

"Drink?" he asked casually. Vale raised a hand politely.

"I'll pass." Again the man's eyes narrowed with interest.

"Strong, disciplined, and mannered," he mused.

"You really are an unusual one." Vale resisted the urge to roll his eyes beneath the mask. The bronze-haired man returned to his seat and took a slow sip from his glass before continuing.

"Now then," he said, crossing one leg over the other, "you mentioned terms. I'm curious what exactly a man bold enough to interrupt my games believes he can demand from me." Vale hesitated briefly before glancing toward Lucias.

"Me and him," Vale said calmly, "will become the main attraction from now on." Lucias blinked. The boss remained silent.

"No more feeding gladiators to beasts for slaughter," Vale continued.

"No more pointless deaths." The room grew still with those words. The bronze-haired man slowly lowered his glass, his expression unreadable. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Did you know," he said after a pause, "that death is what keeps these games alive?" His voice carried no anger. If anything, it sounded analytical.

"When people believe someone might die, they gamble more recklessly. Fear and anticipation loosen purses far better than spectacle alone." He leaned forward slightly, eyes sharpening.

"So tell me… why should I sacrifice profit for the ideals of a masked stranger?" Vale stared at him for a long moment. Then a low chuckle escaped from beneath the onyx mask, distorted into something deep and unsettling by its enchantment.

"You misunderstand your audience," Vale said. A grin slowly spread across the man's face.

"Go on."

"People don't truly come here to watch death," Vale continued.

"Death is merely the excuse. What they actually crave is emotion. Tension. Excitement. The feeling that they're witnessing something extraordinary." He leaned forward slightly now as well.

"If a fighter dies too quickly, people lose interest. But if two warriors stand at death's door and continue fighting anyway…" Vale paused.

"That's what keeps crowds screaming." Lucias burst into laughter from the side of the room.

"Hah! I like this kid already." He walked over and sat beside the boss, still grinning.

"You hit his weak spot perfectly." The bronze-haired man's smile widened further.

"Interesting…" he murmured.

"Very interesting." He swirled the drink in his glass thoughtfully.

"So tell me," he continued, "what exactly makes a fight entertaining in your eyes?" Vale answered immediately.

"Hope." The answer caused both men to pause. Vale folded his hands together calmly.

"You make people believe that next time their chosen fighter will win. You make them think victory is always just barely within reach." His voice lowered slightly.

"Do that, and they'll return again and again like loyal lambs marching willingly toward slaughter." For a moment, silence dominated the room. Then the bronze-haired man laughed loudly enough for it to echo against the walls. The laughter quickly devolved into harsh coughing, forcing him to clutch his chest as he struggled to breathe. Lucias frowned slightly. The man eventually waved dismissively.

"Damn disease…" he muttered hoarsely.

"Ruined my lungs years ago." He took another drink before fixing Vale with a sharp grin.

"You," he said, pointing the glass toward him, "are hired." Vale tilted his head slightly.

"So my terms are accepted?"

"Mostly," the man replied.

"But there remains one issue." Vale leaned back.

"And that is?" The man retrieved a gold coin from his pocket and rolled it smoothly across his fingers.

"I have no idea who you are," he said simply.

"How exactly am I supposed to contact my newest star attraction?" Vale hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached into his armor and withdrew the medallion Ares had given him. The moment he placed it onto the table, Lucias froze. His eyes widened dramatically.

"You…" he muttered.

"How do you have that?" Vale looked toward him calmly.

"I'm not part of the royal guard," he explained, "but I'm closely connected to them. That's why you've never seen me there despite my age." Lucias narrowed his eyes suspiciously, though he said nothing further. The boss, meanwhile, looked delighted.

"Well now…" he murmured. His grin became almost predatory.

"A man tied to the royal guard participating in underground colosseum matches…" He laughed again, quieter this time.

"You really are fascinating." Then his expression softened slightly.

"Very well. Your conditions are accepted. In exchange, I'll show you what this colosseum truly is." Vale nodded once before speaking again.

"There's one more thing." The boss raised an eyebrow.

"You're ambitious."

"All prize money I earn," Vale said calmly, "gets converted into food and clothing for the slums." The boss blinked once in genuine surprise. Then, slowly, a spark appeared in his tired eyes.

"Hah…" he muttered.

"So you're actually serious." Vale remained silent. Lucias shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle.

"You really are noble, aren't you?" The boss leaned back in his chair.

"Very well," he declared.

"Under those conditions, your winnings will be doubled." Vale's eyes narrowed beneath the mask.

"I don't understand." The bronze-haired man smiled knowingly.

"Tell me something," he said.

"Have you ever actually heard of someone dying in this colosseum?" Vale paused unable to conjure up a answer. Then he slowly shook his head. The boss spread his arms slightly.

"Exactly." Vale's eyes widened faintly.

"We push our gladiators to the edge," the man explained.

"Close enough to death that fear becomes real. Real enough that the crowd believes every second matters." His gaze drifted toward Lucias's missing arm.

"But occasionally…" he said more quietly, "mistakes happen." Lucias remained silent.

"We stage these battles carefully," the boss continued.

"Far more carefully than people realize. We minimize deaths whenever possible. Most injuries are survivable." His expression hardened slightly.

"If someone dies, it's because something went wrong, not because we intended it." Vale sat silently for several moments, absorbing the revelation. The screams from above continued rumbling through the ceiling. Finally, the bronze-haired man waved dismissively.

"That's enough business for today. You start tomorrow." Vale rose from his chair.

"Where do I report?"

"Main entrance," the boss answered.

"The guards will guide you." Vale nodded once before turning toward the door.

"Thank you," he said calmly.

"For agreeing to my terms." The boss smiled faintly as Vale opened the door.

"You're welcome." His tired eyes gleamed beneath the torchlight.

"And may the Creator be with you."