The Afternoon in Cartag
The late sun painted Cartag's tall walls gold. The air was thick with dust, spices, and sweat; vendors shouted in the plazas, mercenaries drank beer on street corners, the laughter of prostitutes tangled with the clang of smiths forging weapons, while guards patrolled with fake boredom.
Sam walked through the crowded streets with the CI-Mask on. People stared at him, but their eyes quickly moved away—though they inevitably settled on the stone amphitheater looming over the city.
Even without stepping inside, its cyclopean black walls rose like a sleeping titan. But what lived inside… was no slumber.
Muffled echoes bled out: guttural howls, bestial roars, and—woven among them—human screams, jagged with panic and pain, filtering like metal whispers through the vents.
The passersby didn't even flinch. To them, it was just that time of year.For Sam, it was the sound of a promise—blood waiting for him tomorrow.
He stood still a few seconds, listening. The sound was a covenant of slaughter.
—"Tomorrow…" —he murmured.
Then he walked on, each step dragging behind it the shadow of what awaited.
***
Governor's Mansion
On the north wing of the port city, atop a small hill, Governor Acrisio's mansion gleamed with white marble and columns draped in red banners swaying in the wind.
From the great hall, lined with statues of legendary warriors, windows opened to the sea. But the conversation inside carried the weight of a storm.
The organizer stood, hands clasped behind his back, before the low throne where Acrisio drank wine from a golden cup. Galio bowed respectfully, his brow tense.
Galio: —"Preparations are more than ready, my lord."
The governor regarded him calmly.
Acrisio: —"Remember, Galio: the preliminaries are for testing the beasts, to see who's barely capable of fighting."
Galio nodded, though his voice was tight.
Galio: —"I know… but almost all the beasts are already fed, except the Jundurs, the Terror Birds, and the Leopard Bears. Those creatures are insatiable. Over sixty men have died to them. I'm out of slaves, with only a few gladiators left."
The governor clicked his tongue, indifferent.
Acrisio: —"Buy more. His Highness Alex will arrive tomorrow night, and Lord Ducking and his daughter—the prodigy of the Battler family—have confirmed attendance."
Galio's eyes widened.
Galio: —"Is this a joke? The Infernal Dragon of Britain is coming!"
The governor shook his head with a sly smile.
Acrisio: —"Not to fight, but as a spectator… as will his daughter. I have business with him. The one who will fight is the heir of the Battler family of NordKrieger."
Galio clenched his fists, fully aware of what that meant.
Galio: —"So… they're all coming to watch the preliminaries?"
The governor barked a dry laugh.
Acrisio: —"Of course not. They'll come for the tournament. Who'd waste their time watching nobodies struggle to survive?"
A heavy silence filled the hall. Galio bowed his head, though the twisted smile curling on his lips didn't go unnoticed.
Galio: —"Still… nobodies bleed too. And tomorrow, my lord, the arena will drown in it."
The governor rose from his seat, walking to a tall window overlooking the amphitheater. From here, the arena looked like a furnace ready to ignite.
Acrisio: —"Don't mistake it, Galio. The preliminaries aren't for them… they're for me. I want to see if the monsters we've paid for are worth their price."
Galio smiled sideways, inclining his head.
Galio: —"I assure you, my lord, tomorrow the arena will become a slaughterhouse."
The governor nodded with satisfaction, eyes fixed on the amphitheater.
Acrisio: —"Then let the blood flow. Because if the preliminaries don't set the city on fire before His Highness arrives, the tournament will mean nothing."
Galio raised his face, as the governor still held his golden cup.
Galio: —"I'll make sure tomorrow delivers a spectacle, my lord."
A night breeze swept through the windows, carrying a distant roar from the coliseum. Acrisio smiled.
Acrisio: —"By tomorrow, I want my city waking with hunger for blood."
A silence choked the hall. Outside, as if in answer, a thunderous roar shook the amphitheater, rattling the mansion's glass.
Galio and Acrisio exchanged a look.Tomorrow—by their arrangement—the carnage would begin.
***
On the Road Back to Base
Walking back to base… I analyzed my own behavior.
Let's recap: two hours ago, I was a mercenary courier. Then I got kicked out of Pello's tavern for refusing to obey the Guild Master for one goddamn second.
Or rather, fired from the guild altogether. Now I had no choice but to return to base, get some sleep, and be back tomorrow for the tournament preliminaries.
I was experiencing, for the thousandth time in this body, a state of reflection. Something I always did back in reality… just not this often.
In that moment, Quincy poked at me about what I'd done for the brats.
[Feeling proud of yourself, Mr. Altruist? (.≖ ‿ ≖.)]
—Fuck you, Quincy.
[What a waste of coins, master. Paying premium for kids that don't even have stigma. ¯\_( ͠◡ ₒ ͡◡)_/¯]
—What is power, and what's the problem?
[Your moral stances have nothing to do with your actions. (ㆆ ₃ ㆆ)]
—They have everything to do with it, little cheeky assistant… If I have the power to do something, good or evil, I'll do it without hesitation. Power is a means, not an end. The problem is the human who won't let go of ego.
[So, good or evil… master, you're morally ambiguous? (─ .─ )]
—Nah. "Ambiguous" means unclear with yourself. I'm clear. You won't make me doubt it.
[Whatever you say, master. Let Artia babysit you. (눈︹눈)]
—…Are those jealousy vibes?
[Go to hell, master. (Ⓘ皿Ⓘ)]
I was stunned Quincy actually insulted me. Maybe I'd rubbed off on her too much, teaching her to curse.
Finally, after a few minutes, I reached the mountain, entered the base, and Artia greeted me:
[Grand Marshal, welcome. Do you need anything?]
—Artia, I've got the design for a silver coin from the Kingdom of Lichstein. You'll take the design and replicate the coin with the silver you're mining. Don't worry, I'll bring you designs from the Empire and the other kingdoms too.
[Oh… so the Marshal plans to conquer their archaic economy?]
—Correct. I'll build a bank. Through foreign debt, production control, manipulating continental inflation, economic deterrence—tools that open both political and social doors. (I'm sick of being reminded I'm a slave.)
[Understood. I'll begin production when you command.]
—First we finish the city before we move on banking… What I do need is training. Bring in some Indominus. I want to try something.
[Very well, Marshal. I'll provide three Indominus for your training.]
—Thanks… I need to prepare well for tomorrow.
***
Kingdom of Lichstein
Strait of Bepnis — Plains at the foot of Mount Albur
Brian walked out of the base, flanked by three robots. Their steps crushed stone like gravel. They advanced onto the clearing, where only a few trees still stood.
His breathing was steady, even beneath the CI-Mask, its screen showing an annoyed emoji. The Indominus shifted into combat formation.
The night air was cold, laced with sea humidity. Forces braced for collision.
The robots' coordination was flawless. Every strike aimed for vital points. Brian caught the fist that would've smashed his face, letting the others hit his abdomen and legs.
—Artia, not the face. I still need the CI-Mask.
From one Indominus, Artia's voice answered:
[I can make another, Marshal.]
—I like this one. Already grown attached. Now, activate quantum processing.
[Understood. Continue.]
Their next strikes landed in an instant. I was sent flying, and when I opened my eyes the system mechanics filled my vision.
[Basic Ability «Absolute Resistance» nullifies the attack received.]
And I thought: "If it nullifies it, then why the hell am I flying through the air?"
I smashed through a line of trees, stood back up unharmed, only for my favorite hater to chime in:
[Why not use «Infinite Speed»? This sparring is pointless. (¬_¬)]
—I don't want to depend on Basic Abilities forever… I want to see if I can unlock other skills, titles, or achievements.
[That's not how it works, master. War of Kingdoms has layers upon layers. Experimenting blindly won't get you answers. (ᵔ . ᵔ )]
—Never say never. I've got an idea. Now piss off and stop nagging.
[FUCK YOU, MASTER. 凸(^▿^)凸]
Once Quincy stopped being so brazen, a song surfaced in my mind. But before it could even start, the Indominus were already on me.
Something inside me reacted—I dodged by a hair.
—Artia, stop. Theory confirmed. Sparring's over.
[I'm glad to have helped, Marshal.]
As I stood watching the sunset, surrounded by the wreckage I'd left behind, I thought:
"Player's Soul… maybe I'll never control you. But I can see how to exploit you. Just wait, bastards—I'll prove this shit tomorrow."