The next day.
The arena was packed to the brim again.
Even though the Red Wind Queen didn't appear every day, for the Sakaarans living in the imperial capital, watching other slaves fight for entertainment was thrilling enough.
Not to mention, the noble Red King had already made it clear that today there would be two unusual contestants.
One had an extraordinary identity. The other was stupid enough to attempt a championship challenge.
How could they possibly miss a show like that?
Even though, by the normal process, a challenger wouldn't get to see the Red Wind Queen until the third day.
But they couldn't wait until the third day to come enjoy the spectacle, because who knew where that idiot would die before then?
Before a match began, every participant had to tidy up their appearance.
They had to put on armor and pick up weapons. After all, pure slaughter wasn't very entertaining.
At this moment, Loki was pinned to a chair. A hunched old man swung a mechanical arm as he walked out. With a flick of his wrist, the machine on the arm unfolded, and all kinds of scissors and razors started whirring, making Loki's heart race.
"What are you trying to do?!" His voice went sharp and trembling.
"Don't move. My hand isn't as steady as it used to be."
"I swear by Odin, you won't cut my hair! Wait, I'm begging you…" Loki shouted.
But the barber didn't listen.
A moment later, a short-haired Loki was freshly produced.
Loki looked like he'd lost all hope in life. He had to admit it, getting beaten senseless by Four Arms Overlord, being sent to Sakaar, having his collarbone pierced, none of it hit him as hard as today.
Because his flowing, handsome hair was gone.
"That idiot Thor is going to laugh himself to death at me…"
"Thor? Who's that, another prince?" The Red King walked over. Hearing Loki muttering to himself, he sneered. "No wonder you've fallen to this state. So you're just a pathetic wretch who lost the fight for the throne."
Loki looked up at him.
But that gaze displeased the Red King. He pressed the controller without hesitation, and the neurotoxin immediately took effect on Loki.
"Put away that lowly look, bastard. I liked you better when you looked dead yesterday."
He kicked Loki, then crouched down halfway. Staring at the teeth-clenched Loki, he said with contempt, "Look at you. Pitiful. You lost the throne, got exiled here, and became my slave. What right do you have to look me in the eye?"
Loki didn't respond.
The Red King continued, "A prince of the Aesir… hah. What a piece of trash. Compared to me, who killed my father with my own hands and seized the throne, you're far, far inferior."
"You killed your father?" Loki finally reacted. He raised his head in disbelief, fear and anger in his eyes. But more than that, Loki thought of himself.
He had planned to have his father kill another father.
"Just an old man who was asking to die," the Red King said indifferently. "What, are you so weak that you don't even dare lay a hand on your brother and your father? Laughable."
The Red King snorted and shook his head. Now he seemed to understand why Loki had ended up on Sakaar.
Loki fell silent.
He suddenly realized how similar he was to the Sakaaran king in front of him. The difference was that the other man succeeded, and he failed.
But watching him now, Loki wondered: if his own plan had succeeded back then, would he have become like this too?
He didn't know.
He didn't even know if he truly had the courage to kill Odin and Thor.
"Cowardly thing. No wonder you were exiled to Sakaar. Pathetic," the Red King said, not out of sympathy, but because Loki amused him. "You're only fit to wag your tail and beg in front of me."
He found it boring.
Enslaving a weak, defeated prince didn't entertain him any more than enslaving anyone else. Even if he dragged this dog outside on a leash, it wouldn't make him feel superior.
He had no intention of keeping Loki anymore.
The Red King turned and left.
He returned to the totem tower and waited for the match to begin.
Waited for the show of the prince dying horribly.
He sat proudly on a golden throne. One hand propped his cheek, while two attendants of unknown race fanned him with huge fans.
With Sakaar's technology, there was no need for such ancient methods of cooling, but if they didn't do this, how else could he display his power?
Standing beside those attendants was Caiera.
This strongest female of the Wraith tribe looked like a slab of gray stone, showing no emotion at all.
Because days like this were far too common. On Sakaar, bloody fights happened every day.
Every day, countless warriors died here.
But in her eyes, this was already good. At least these spectacles kept most of the Red King's attention focused here, so he wouldn't go around starting wars elsewhere.
Just then, Princess Ruma walked over.
When Caiera saw her, she immediately greeted her. "Ruma, why are you here?"
"I heard someone intends to attempt a championship challenge. I came to take a look," Princess Ruma said expectantly.
In truth, for a long time, she had no interest in those who attempted championship challenges. They were just reckless fools with no strength worth noticing.
But after her fight with Bill yesterday, her anticipation returned.
A strong opponent. That was what she truly craved.
"Then you'll be disappointed, Ruma." The Red King remained seated. He turned his head and said in an ingratiating tone, "This challenger is a skinny little brat. You could probably break his bones with a puff of air."
Then he looked to a servant at the side and said coldly, "Hurry up and bring another chair. Are you going to make my noble Red Wind Queen stand while she watches the match?!"
Several attendants were startled, immediately dropping to their knees and kowtowing as they brought over another luxurious chair and placed it beside the Red King.
Only then did the Red King show a hint of a smile. "Come, sit, Ruma!"
"Your manners disgust me, An-Mo A-Shan." Ruma glanced at him. Her four eyes had no pupils, only yellow-white sclera, yet the contempt in her gaze was unmistakable.
Clearly, the gentlemanly front the Red King put on wasn't a point in his favor at all in Ruma's eyes.
She walked straight to Caiera's side, folded her four arms across her chest, and stood tall.
Ruma and Caiera actually had a very good relationship, for one simple reason: Caiera was a warrior Ruma acknowledged.
This Wraith woman controlled powerful ancient force, and she had the ability to trade blows with Ruma.
Unfortunately, Caiera didn't like fighting.
Being ignored by Ruma, the Red King's expression instantly twisted into something ugly. The look he cast at Ruma's back carried a vicious, bitter edge.
/-\
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