Chapter 10 Journey To The Colosseum

Omid lay on the straw-made bed. His left hand was medicated, and he stared blankly at the top of the cave. Finally, his left hand twitched. The pain made him turn his head to look at the hand tightly wrapped in white bandages. He seemed to be lost in his painful memories. The sound of footsteps outside the cave immediately drew all of Omid's attention. He suddenly sat up, his black eyes staring fixedly at the cave entrance. Light and shadow intertwined at the entrance of the cave, and a figure appeared from the end of his sight. "Ah..." Omid opened his mouth, wanting to shout, but not knowing what to say. He slumped his head down dejectedly. "Are you awake?" Atar rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He had been through a lot today and had no strength left to take care of others. When he sat down on the ground, his whole body relaxed, relying on the wall for support. "Yeah..." Omid nodded. He quickly glanced at Atar, then lowered his head again and said in a very small voice, "My name is Omid." "Omid." Atar covered his eyes with his hand and instinctively responded to Omid. "I'm Atar." Omid struggled for a long time to organize his words and wanted to talk to Atar again. But when he looked up, he saw that Atar had already fallen asleep. He quietly stopped talking, walked over, and gently laid Atar down from the wall, arranging him into a position where he could sleep comfortably. It seemed that thick blood dripped onto Atar's face, and the stench of blood seemed to reach Atar's nostrils. The wide-open pupils of the dying man reflected his face. "Ah!" Atar suddenly sat up, his eyes wide open. He held his trembling right hand in front of him, clenched it into a fist suddenly, gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes. His whole body seemed to be shaking. "What's wrong with you?" Surprised by the unexpected voice, Atar quickly turned his head and saw Omid's worried expression. His shoulders relaxed. "I just killed someone." This was necessary and something he had to go through. Atar knew this very well rationally, but - "Who did you kill? But, what's the big deal about killing someone?" Omid didn't show much reaction to Atar's words, just asking simply. He had seen too many people he knew being killed, and in his mind, there was no concept of the value of human life anymore. "It was a soldier." Atar replied, his dark - blue eyes filled with pain. Suddenly, he raised his voice, "Killing is wrong. Human life is extremely precious!" After this sudden outburst of emotion, he realized his gaffe and murmured feebly, "Sorry." Kaveh woke up at some point. His eyes, having endured so much hardship, were full of weariness. "But in the city of Zaravash, the most worthless thing is the life of a slave." He seemed to recall those he had known but who had already died. "Every soldier in the city had the lives of countless slaves on their hands. They're blood-stained executioners." "But now, my hands are also stained with blood." Atar could still recall the feeling of the sword piercing through a person's body. Omid looked at Atar's slightly trembling right hand. He also stretched out his own right hand and tightly grasped it. "On your hands, there's not just blood, but also - " "You saved my life." Omid quietly looked at their overlapping hands. "Since you say human life is precious, then should you really be suffering for yourself when you've saved a precious life?" Omid's thinking was straightforward, basically a one-way deduction. Atar's hand instinctively clenched, unexpectedly grasping the other's still warm palm. His heart felt a bit more at ease, and he let out a faint laugh. "Thank you." He didn't want to kill because human life was precious. But there were some people who trampled on the precious lives of others. Then, Atar no longer minded killing for the lives of more innocent people. He raised his eyes to look at the two who had already woken up and said, "In that case, can I trust you?" Entrusting his trust to his fellow slaves. "We've been in the same boat for a long time." Kaveh said. From the moment Atar extended an invitation to him, and he didn't refuse. "Isn't my life yours? " From the moment Atar saved him from Ardashir's hands, Omid was willing to be driven by Atar. "I understand." Atar nodded, took out the parchment map from his bosom, and spread it right in the middle of the three of them. He pointed to the southern part of the map. "Tomorrow, I'll go to the Colosseum, as a slave." "The Colosseum?" Kaveh's eyes, half-hidden under his eyelids, suddenly widened. His pale hair trembled wildly as his body shook. "Going to that place is just asking for death!" Atar placed the iron piece on his body onto the parchment map as well. The iron piece was just taken from a worn-out pickaxe, and after several uses, its sharpness had greatly decreased. "The Colosseum is very dangerous, but it's also necessary. We need weapons and strength, or else we'll just get killed by others." Even though the guards in the mining area were lax, weapons were still extremely hard to come by. However, the Colosseum was different. Due to its special mode of existence, weapons can be seen everywhere there. Moreover, not only for this reason, but also to use the secretly infiltrated Duzakh people to attack the city of Zaravash and make them both suffer heavy losses. Atar didn't say this out loud. "I want to go with you." Omid stared at the small dot on the map, sounding a bit unconfident. "Omid, it'll only be worse if you go. You're still injured," Kaveh tried to persuade. Omid looked so thin and weak that it seemed any excessive movement could break his bones. He said to Atar, "Let me go with you." His old bones could die if they had to, but Omid still had a long life ahead. "Alright, neither of you need to go." Atar waved his hand, interrupting their argument. "I have something else for you to do." Afraid that they wouldn't believe him, he repeated, "It's something really important." The rising sun in the east cast its light upon the earth. The rumbling sound of wheels echoed across the land. As the cart passed over the pebble-strewn path, the entire prison cart jolted violently several times. In the large prison cart, there were around nine or ten slaves with their wrists shackled by iron cuffs. “Woo-woo.” The youngest child was whimpering, but a harsh knock from the guard outside the cart startled him into silence. “I’m done for, I’m done for. Why did they pick me?” Shapur hugged his knees, muttering to himself with a tone of reluctance. He was jolted so much by the cart that he fell to the left, and unexpectedly caught sight of another young man sitting beside him. The young man's clothes were no different from those of the other slaves, yet he looked remarkably clean. The chains on his hands made a soft clattering sound as the cart moved. However, instead of gloom, his dark - blue eyes were filled with calm. When Shapur met those eyes, he felt as if all his restlessness had been dispelled. He leaned a little to the left and whispered, “Aren’t you scared?” The young man seemed to be deep in thought. He came to his senses only when Shapur called out to him. “Scared?” As if struck by something, he replied, “Well, I guess I should be a bit scared.” But Atar was more filled with anticipation and a hidden excitement than fear. Soon, he would be freed from the shackles of his slave status. Seeing the strange smile in Atar's eyes, Shapur was stunned. What a strange person! The body that Shapur had just moved to the left now moved back again. At this moment, the moving prison cart made a 'click' sound and then suddenly stopped. The iron lock on the iron bars was opened, and the guard shouted fiercely, "We're here! Get out now!" The slaves got out one by one from the small exit of the prison cart. In the end, only the child was left. He was still sobbing silently. The bearded guard banged hard on the iron railing. "Hey, get out! Don't make me say it a third time." Instead, the child curled his body up tightly, his hands gripping the iron railing, squeezing himself into the corner of the prison cart. His voice was tearful. "I don't want to." "You little rascal!" The guard's eyes widened like copper bells. He raised his leg and kicked the prison cart hard. The long sword at his waist was quickly drawn out. It seemed that blood would splash at any moment. "Please calm down, sir." The tall and straight slave youth stood in front of the cart, wearing a faint smile on his face. Shapur stood there, his eyes wide open, watching the farce in front of him, his whole body stiff. Was that guy crazy? He was going to get killed too. "Huh?" The guard seemed to have seen a joke. Now, instead of being angry, he put the sword in his hand on the neck of the slave in front of him, the sharp cold blade touching the skin. "Are you telling me what to do?" Atar glanced at the sword blade on his neck, raised his brows slightly, showing an innocent look. "Dare not - but, isn't the sight of a young child dying in the hands of a wild beast what the noble lords prefer?" "I'm just thinking for your sake, sir." The guard didn't answer. He walked half a circle around Atar, looking him up and down. "What you said is not wrong. I didn't think it through." As he spoke, he withdrew his sword. However, the next moment. Atar was kicked in the abdomen with great force and fell to the ground, coughing violently. The child in the prison cart was also thrown out and landed beside Atar. "Don't make a sound without my permission. Tsk, filthy slaves."