Azrael and I quietly ate our meal, setting aside the distant noise and commotion that surrounded us.
As I focused more on the meal, attempting to drown out the anguished wails of the weak and oppressed gladiators, I realized just how bitter it tasted. Mostly used to exotic meals — meals made by world-renowned chefs — it was already a miracle that I could dine on slum food.
However, it wasn’t as though I had any choice. Every day in the pits was hellish, and I needed every ounce of strength I could muster to survive. And the porridge, ironically, gave just the right amount of energy needed to do that.
Of course, Atium shards extracted from atium mines would have made for a far better resource. They, after all, had the nutrients, enzymes, and energy the body needed to grow stronger, and attain supernatural levels at a faster rate. It wasn’t known as the standard resource for nurturing Awakened for nothing. But naturally, even the Great Roman Empire wouldn’t be so wasteful as to spend a vital economic resource and source of revenue, on mere gladiators.
Mere rebels.
To them, allowing us to live and work for the noble families was already considered an act of mercy. And as far as I knew — if memory served me right — only the Great Houses of the Roman Empire had some sort of access to atium mines. That was simply how valuable an atium mine was.
Naturally, Atium shards were not the only means by which one could absorb energy. If anything, they were other materials or resources that could be absorbed to strengthen the body. It was common knowledge that as long as a material contained the necessary nutrients or biological enzymes needed to strengthen the body, it could serve the function of an Atium shard, if not just as effectively or quickly. Besides, compared to Atium shards, there were bound to be negative effects if such resources were consumed repeatedly.
A few Awakened were exempt from this. Some individuals had special means of growing stronger, although statistically, very few people belonged to this category. Some scientists, however, believed that was not because the rate at which it occurred was low — yeah, it was indeed low — but not so low as to be extremely rare. It was more or less accepted that most Awakened just never lived long enough to figure it out. And those who survived long enough to do so might just never figure it out.
Ironic, wasn’t it?
"Hum..." I hummed, raising my head. Azrael had stopped eating and was now staring at me. "What?"
"Nothing much," the young Terrisman said. "Just wondering why the prince of the Gracian Empire was spared from the Ragnarok execution. Even more so, how you’re handling the harsh nature of the pits, the bloodshed, along with the slum food you probably call it."
I paused.
I wasn’t surprised that he knew of my status — my past status, to be precise. He was after all a Terris man, and certainly not an ordinary one, I was sure. What puzzled me even more was the knowledge he had of my people. The Gracians. He seemed to be even more knowledgeable when it came to the Roman Empire’s military, economics, and governing structures.
As for the Ragnarok execution, it was reserved for members of the opposing empire or nation’s royal family. And honestly, it made perfect sense to cut off all roots and seeds that could result in future problems or rebellions. It was only natural that the young Terrisman would find it strange that I was left alive.
Even I did.
I shrugged.
"I’m more or less as confused about the situation as you are. But who cares? If I’d to guess, though, it was probably done in favor of psychological warfare."
Azrael paused, raising a brow at my words. "You mean to dampen the morale of your people?"
"The Gracians," I corrected. "I’m no more than a slave."
Azrael kept quiet for a while, as though lost in thought. "Well... I suppose that’s more or less a plausible reason to keep you alive. Though I have a feeling it isn’t that simple. The Romans, you see... don’t let go of grudges so easily. They would, given the opportunity, squeeze out every last bit of worth from those who dare to oppose them before finally giving them a glorious death."
"Yeah," I replied with a nod. "Tell me something I don’t know."
Azrael smirked wryly and shook his head. "Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. So long as you’re alive, the problems can be solved one after another."
I said nothing in response. Instead, I glanced to my left, taking note of the blood-soaked ground and the group of young men gathered together, forming what appeared to be circles. There were numerous such circles, each distinct in the fact that they were formed by members of the same tribe.
Then Nermans, Ghauls, Kush, and a few other tribes — the major perpetrators of the violence and bloodshed in the Butcher’s Room — all had a spot reserved for themselves. The very tables that had supposedly been reserved for the top ten. I hadn’t noticed it previously, but now that I did, it brought a frown onto my face.
"Don’t bother yourself about them," Azrael said, glancing at the tribal factions. "They more or less work for the Roman nobles. Lesser nobles anyway."
Work for the nobles? In the pits? How...? I suddenly paused, my eyes widening as realization settled in.
"Gambling."
Of course, I should have known.
"With the help of the tribal factions, various lesser noble families gain a staple source of revenue from gambling since they’re more or less assured of victory by pitting the tribesmen against weaker foes."
"Isn’t that unfair?" I asked. "Besides, don’t the Romans pride themselves on battle honor and all that."
"They do," Azrael chuckled. "Not when wealth and power are at stake."
"And does Lucius know about this? The people, I’m guessing, don’t."
"Yeah, you’re right on that. Roman citizens, more than anything, value battle honor above all else. As for Lucius... let’s just say even his eyes can be blinded when enough gold is placed before him.
"I see..." I said nothing after that. I already got all that I needed.
’The Roman Nobles,’ I thought. ’Every one of them — every single one of them — deserves to be burnt to death while they writhed in pain and agony many times greater than what they inflicted upon others.’
"Those nobles, just to make sure their bets went well, pitted me against a few Unawakened," I heard a Ghaul say. "Pitiful things, they didn’t even last long. And the funny thing? They wanted the death of the young men to be a spectacle. Something to do with those particular betting odds, they said."
A frown tugged at the corner of my lips. I glanced at Azrael.
"Unawakened are allowed to engage in battle with an Awakened? How is that even a fair fight? Isn’t such a thing more or less a one-sided massacre."
"It is," Azrael said with a nod. "And why should they care about a few ’worthless’ pawns?"
His words, however harsh I felt they were, were the truth. If one couldn’t even awaken in this hell, then truly, such a person wasn’t long for this world. At least, not in this current war-torn age. But still... to go so far as to eliminate them was simply... pathetic and non-Goodman-ish.
"How come I haven’t heard about it," I asked, raising a brow. "Nor have I been forced to face one of these Awakened?"
"I think that’s more or less because the higher-ups still see you as being useful to them. One way or another," Azrael replied. "As for why you haven’t heard about it... why would you? Any Unawakened who has faced one is already in the underworld."
It was then that it clicked. Everything... It now made more sense. With a grim expression, I asked,
"So all those promises of survival, freedom, and power after twelve gladiatorial battles were all... fake?"
"Not fake," Azrael said, tilting a finger. "So long as you can defeat an Awakened as an Unawakened."
I could almost hear the mocking tone behind his words. An Unawakened defeating an Awakened. Even a myth wouldn’t contain such a ludicrous tale. But if that was the case, doesn’t that mean...
"...!"
"The next two battles I had as an Unawakened, if I hadn’t released the suppression on my Pre-Awakening, I would’ve been forced to face off against an Awakened during the last match. One that would’ve made certain my death?"
"Very much so," Azrael confirmed. "You would have probably been forced to face someone on the gladiatorial rankings. If only in the lower ranks. That, even for you, would be quite... hellish. But you’d survive nonetheless."
His words brought a frown to my face.
"And how are you so sure about that?" Survive against an Awakened as an Awakened — how ridiculous does that even sound.
Azrael smiled. "Let’s just say I have my way."
Refusing to let his cryptic words bother me, I said, "What of the Awakened, then? What do they do to get their freedom? Or are they also given ’unattainable’ goals?"
"Well, the majority, yes," Azrael replied. "Though the same can’t be said of the Aberrants. They’re more or less already guaranteed a spot in the Roman Elites Academy Trial. The rest of us, on the other hand, have to win for three consecutive months before also earning a spot."
I nodded, then said grimly. "So... If I’m correct, killing an Aberrant is the fastest way to not only get a spot in the trials, but also gain one’s freedom?"
"Well... yeah," Azrael hesitated. "Though I’d advise against doing that." He shook his head. "You aren’t a match for any of those two monsters. You will only be fighting a losing battle."
The Terrisman was usually more confident in my abilities, perhaps even more than I’d ever been in them. So for him to say that, I had more reasons to believe him than not. And even more so because, if it were so easy to defeat the Aberrants, someone else would’ve already done it. I wasn’t so stupid as to think I was unique or anything of the sort.
Besides, based on what I knew about one of the aberrants — Bartholin — his ability was useful, but not particularly unique or overpowered. And yet, he remained one of the two most fearsome gladiators among those with far more extraordinary abilities. That alone spoke volumes about how dangerous the Aberrants truly were. Not only in terms of combat prowess and strength, but also in terms of the many hidden traits they possessed.
"If you say so," I shrugged, rising to my feet. "I’m heading back to the pits. I don’t see the point in staying here any longer."
"Me neither," the young Terrisman said with a smirk. However, as he stood, he leaned towards me and said solemnly,
"Be careful of the Ghauls. You killed Damien, and if there’s one thing the Ghauls are known for, it would be their..."
"Boldness," I finished, glancing at the Ghauls, their eyes locking with mine.