At the chamber above the arena, which was brightened by dim light, the young king threw the women aside in annoyance and said,
"Ahh... time is really short. Let's go, bitches."
After saying that, he quickly put on his clothes and fastened his sword around his waist. Then he grabbed the plump woman and the white-clad female commander beside him.
As he walked out of the chamber, he clapped his hands. Several soldiers immediately entered. Much like the commanders before them, their expressions were dull and obedient. They silently grabbed the women lying on the floor and dragged them outside without hesitation.
Before leaving, the king paused and turned toward the old woman seated quietly in the corner of the room. Her eyes remained closed. It was as though everything that had happened inside the chamber had never reached her at all. She sat there unmoving, like an ancient statue immersed in endless silence.
The king smiled, "Are you not coming?" But no answer came from her, so he asked again, "Grandmother, if you travelled with me, I wouldn't have to fear anyone. Come with me to the Land of Knowledge. With your help, we could dominate it easily."
Still, no response came. The king lowered his head respectfully and bowed toward her once more before preparing to leave. At that moment, the old woman slowly opened her eyes.
For the first time, the chamber was flooded with an intense radiance as it felt as though a miniature sun had awakened inside that filthy room.
The stains upon the floor, the scattered objects, and the lingering traces of blood and saliva—all of them seemed to fade beneath that overwhelming light.
Then an old, cracking voice echoed through the chamber, "Be wary of black."
The words were simple, but the king stood frozen. Before he could ask anything, the old woman's eyes closed once again. The brilliance disappeared, and the room returned to its previous darkness.
Without another word, the king stepped outside; behind him, the chamber doors closed with a heavy thud.
BOOM.
As the fat king walked down the corridor, he remained lost in thought, hearing a sound in his mind that warned him: 'Be wary of black.'
He remembered that his grandma never said anything to him in those past years. He started to ponder, 'What exactly did that mean?' Was it a person? A color? A thing? A soul? A symbol? Or perhaps something else entirely?'
A small turmoil arose in his mind, but seeing the gaze of that nobleman, he suppressed those unnecessary thoughts. The guards stationed outside bowed deeply in succession. The king glanced once toward the closed chamber door and returned the gesture with a respectful nod.
Then his eyes shifted toward the nobleman. The man's face was twisted with rage, humiliation, pain, and hatred.
The king smiled. "Throw them on him."
Several guards obeyed immediately, but the nobleman suddenly erupted like a cornered beast; he roared and lunged forward with a concealed knife.
But the king merely raised his hand, and with a loud 'SLAP!' the nobleman's wrist shattered instantly.
The knife fell onto the floor, and the king picked it up leisurely. Then he grabbed the nobleman's hair and forced him to look into his eyes.
A mocking smile appeared on his face: "So much anger. So much hatred." He leaned closer. "Yet what can you do?" The king laughed softly. You should thank me. "I enjoyed your punishment so much that I am now giving you a chance to enjoy what remains. See? How benevolent am I?"
He slowly brushed the knife against the nobleman's neck with a widened smile. "You know what saddens me? I can no longer enjoy them personally. So I leave them in your care. Consider it a gift. Perhaps they will even become your descendants."
He chuckled, "Or perhaps you will sell them. I do not care. The unborn should not inherit the sins of their parents. Hehehehe..."
His laughter echoed down the hallway, and the nobleman's eyes burned with fury. But the king only patted his shoulder mockingly. "Enjoy."
Then he snapped his fingers, and without another glance backward, he walked toward the silent corridor.
The advisor followed him quietly.
After some distance, the king finally spoke, "Advisor. Is the chariot ready?"
No answer came immediately, but only distant cries, wails, curses, and the sound of chains echoed behind them.
.....
Those soldiers seated within the arena were still indulging in all kinds of madness, dancing, drinking, smoking, and engaging in countless other acts, completely unaware of the situation unfolding outside. Their gazes were hazy and unfocused; some appeared shocked, some drowsy, some delighted, while others wore expressions that could not even be described properly.
Perhaps the most accurate explanation was that each of them was trapped within their illusion; some smiled blissfully at things unseen, some laughed at empty air, some muttered incomprehensible words beneath their breath, and others stared into the distance with tears rolling down their cheeks. Whatever they were seeing, whatever dream they were experiencing, it seemed sweeter than reality itself.
However, that fragile illusion was suddenly shattered by the fierce roar of a commander, or, as it also was an illusion, "Move quickly! Gather outside the arena and form groups!"
There is a saying that humans and animals are not so different. Both are driven by instinct, desire, fear, lust, and circumstance, yet there exists something even deeper within every living being: the instinct of survival. When danger truly appears, that dormant instinct awakens like magic. It suppresses everything like hesitation, pleasure, and confusion, and even if the body remains sluggish, the mind awakens first. At such moments, there exists only a single command, "Survive."
And so, their senses returned abruptly as they simply stared at the commander as though a ghost had suddenly appeared before them. One soldier noticed the direction in which the commander pointed.
Without thinking, he sprinted toward the opened gate; seeing him move, others hesitated for only a brief moment. Then someone shouted loudly, "Run!" "We need to gather outside in groups! Quickly!" Immediately, everyone followed.
Like a flood bursting through a broken dam, soldiers began rushing toward the exit in succession; within only a few minutes, formations started taking shape outside. Groups of one hundred and fifty soldiers assembled together, forming battalions. One individual in each battalion was designated as the leader.
Because darkness still covered the surroundings, nearly every soldier carried a burning flare in his hand; in total, fifty battalions were formed. The flickering orange lights illuminated anxious faces and cast long shadows upon the ground.
As they arranged themselves into formation, many finally noticed something unusual. The slaves who came with them had already gathered there long ago, but they stood in complete silence, heads bowed, and their expressions were vacant.
In front of every group of slaves stood ten soldiers identical in appearance to themselves. Beyond them stood several figures completely covered in white cloth.
Some soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. One whispered quietly, "What happened to them?"
"Why do their eyes look so empty?"
"Why do they look as though all hope has left them?"
"What exactly happened inside?"
Questions emerged one after another, yet no answers came. Meanwhile, more soldiers continued exiting through the gates.
Suddenly, sounds drifted over from the direction of the pond. Everyone instinctively turned toward it. There, resting upon the dark waters, was a boat unlike anything they had ever seen.
Upon it stood a palanquin crafted from peacock feathers, human bones, and strange black materials woven together in unnatural patterns. Small lamps hung from its edges. Their dim flames barely illuminated its shape.
The pale light dancing upon the water only made the scene appear more eerie. Beside the palanquin stood four fully covered figures, motionless like statues. Before them, two additional figures remained in deep prostration. The atmosphere for them suddenly started to feel oppressive.
Then the commander's furious voice rang out once more, "Idiots! Light your flares first! Then form your groups and stand behind those slaves! Move quickly!"
Curiosity inevitably rose among the soldiers. One man cautiously stepped forward, intending to get a better look.
However, a violent force suddenly blasted him near the commander's feet. He stumbled backward in terror. Seeing the commander's hostility, no one dared question him further. The soldier retreated immediately, dejected.
Murmurs rose briefly among the gathered troops before dying down once again, yet despite their fear, shock still filled their hearts.
Suddenly, all the nearby soldiers stopped talking as they heard the familiar voice of that small boy coming from behind them. Immediately, they saw all commanders bow down respectfully. Seeing the commander's bowing, all soldiers also followed suit without hesitation: "All hail the majesty!"
Their voices rang out in unison.
Thousands of soldiers began chanting the same words repeatedly, raising and lowering their spears rhythmically, creating a metallic wave that echoed through the dark surroundings.
"All hail the majesty!"
"All hail the majesty!"
The synchronized movements of countless spears created an imposing spectacle beneath the dim light of the flares. Seeing this grand procession, the king concealed the smile rising upon his face, though his expression remained arrogant and dignified.
He raised a hand slightly and declared, "Stand up. And open a path for the main figures of this event."
Without questioning his command, the soldiers quickly stepped aside and formed a broad pathway between their ranks. At the same time, the palanquin arrived from the direction of the boat along with the six figures that accompanied it.
The gathered soldiers watched in silence. From the gate through which the king had emerged, a black-robed man bearing a skull-like face appeared alongside a woman. It was none other than Mahangira, and beside him stood the mysterious lady.
No one noticed, however, that for a brief moment, a flicker of rage surfaced within the king's eyes before disappearing just as quickly.
Mahangira and the king exchanged a respectful bow, then Mahangira and the woman stepped into the strange palanquin that came there suddenly.
Without any visible means of movement, the palanquin began to advance. Its first movement placed it behind the battalion formations. The next moment, it appeared among the middle ranks. Then, silently and smoothly, it came to rest behind the gathered slaves.
It seemed as though everyone stared at the eerie sight as it was floating gently through the air.
From within the palanquin, Mahangira extended a hand outward and made a simple gesture. Suddenly, as if responding to an unseen command, the slaves shifted aside. Large gaps formed between them, and the palanquin moved forward.
Then, from behind the assembled soldiers, the king's youthful voice resounded once more.
"As I announced before, we are departing for the Land of Knowledge. A land where we shall seek that which is absent here. New knowledge. New power. Everything that we currently lack."
He paused for a moment, gazing over the gathered masses. "I am pleased to express my gratitude for your presence. Thank you for becoming a part of this great journey. Some sacrifices were given, some sacrifices were taken, and some sacrifices must still be earned. But those who accomplish them shall have their names inscribed within history itself."
His words carried across the rebar through the soldiers; they all shouted in unison, "All hail the majesty!"
Suddenly, a chariot thundered into view. At its front were five-headed horses, their movements swift and unnatural, as though carried forward by the wind itself. The king climbed onto the chariot.
Beside him, the two women were already seated. That boy whose ear had been severed now stood at the front, acting as the handler of the reins alongside the advisor.
The king raised his hand. "Move quickly toward the docks."
At the front of the procession drifted the palanquin carrying Mahangira and the mysterious woman. Ahead of it, the two prostrating figures moved forward, scattering flower-like objects from their hands as offerings.
Behind them came the king's grand chariot, carrying both the ruler and the women beside him. The commanders advanced alongside it.
Their strange pets followed close behind. Together, they proceeded toward the distant horizon, where the sky appeared to bleed into the sea, and above them, an impossible spectacle continued to unfold.
The enormous lotus suspended in the heavens still devoured the sun, petal by petal, light by light, as though the dawn itself were being consumed. To those who witnessed it, it almost seemed absurd, as if someone were casually eating biscuits.
To be continued…