Anger Rises from the Heart

The image of his severed right arm kept flashing through Yochula's mind.

A dagger couldn't sever a limb that easily, so the Skinner had precisely stabbed into the gaps between the bones, cutting the tendons that connected them, dismantling Yochula's arm like a butcher carving a carcass.

Beyond the pain, Yochula's mind was filled with shock and bewilderment.

He hadn't expected the Skinner to cut off his arm right from the start.

Just moments ago, this guy had been laughing and chatting...

"You must be thinking about escaping too, just like that big guy and the others."

The Skinner glanced at Angron, who was locked in combat with the Nusa Twins. With one hand, he stabbed his dagger into Yochula's severed arm and lifted it, while the other hand swiftly disassembled the entire limb with another blade.

Skin, muscle, sinew—all of it was stripped away and fell onto the already blood-red Red Sand.

Even if Yochula had bandages, there was no way to reattach that arm.

"I'm different from you." The Skinner was still smiling. "I enjoy fighting. I enjoy the cheers."

Only now did Yochula realize this man truly intended to kill him.

"If you all ran away..."

"Whose skin would I peel?"

The Skinner's smile didn't waver as he spoke, but to Yochula, it felt as chilling as a vengeful ghost.

"You... you..." Yochula stumbled backward, trembling. This teenage gladiator might have been prepared to kill before—when facing the "Plebeian Butchers," he had even slain a Servant Knight.

But Yochula had never imagined that one of the gladiators who had fought alongside him against the Servant Knights on the Red Sand, this man called the Skinner, who had just comforted him moments ago, was actually coming to kill him outright.

In this arena match where death wasn't strictly necessary.

"When your mother brings food tonight, I'll describe to her in every detail how I skinned you." The Skinner's smile vanished as he charged at Yochula.

On the other side.

Angron dodged the Nusa Twins' relentless attacks.

Kleist had just cut through the fishing net and was cursing as she charged toward the twins.

Angron didn't want to kill anyone. Since no one had to die today, he kept evading, occasionally striking out with a few cuts before dodging again.

The cheers from the audience turned into angry jeers. The spectators who had come hoping to see Angron's outstanding performance were now hurling insults, their earlier praise replaced by foul-mouthed abuse at his obvious slacking off.

The Nusa Twins thrust their harpoons at Angron simultaneously, but he dodged them easily. Just as he was about to feign a counterattack, one of them suddenly pulled a dagger from his boot and slashed Angron's neck.

Angron stepped back twice and touched his neck.

The skin was broken.

"You..."

Just as Angron was about to demand an explanation, the Nusa Twins rushed forward and drove their harpoons into his left and right shoulders.

"Have you lost your minds?" Kleist swung her spear, snapping both harpoons in two, and stepped in front of Angron. "You want to kill him?!"

The Nusa Twins stepped back in unison, turned to look at the audience, then looked back at Kleist.

"Wouldn't it be good if he died?"

"Then my brother and I, along with you, would still be the ones in the spotlight."

The brothers spoke one after the other.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Kleist roared, pacing around Angron like she was driving off wild beasts, keeping the Nusa Twins at bay. "Sure, he's big... but he still feels like a kid!"

"He's no kid."

"Alright... maybe. But even if he's young, he's a freak over three meters tall, so don't spout that childish nonsense."

The Nusa Twins raised a dagger and a spare fishing net, ready to attack again.

"You two blind bastards..."

Kleist gripped her spear, ready to teach the brothers a lesson.

But Angron's large hand landed on her shoulder.

The female gladiator turned and saw Angron glance toward Yochula.

After a moment's hesitation, trusting that Angron could handle the brothers, Kleist left the Primarch's side and charged toward Yochula, who was fleeing and dodging the Skinner across the arena floor.

"Angron must be confused right now..." Oeno frowned. "Yesterday, these gladiators were fighting side by side against the Butchers, laughing and joking. Today, they want to kill him."

"The Nusa Twins were the most popular before, weren't they?" Qin Xa asked.

Oeno nodded.

Qin Xa didn't ask further. He turned to look at the other gladiators behind him.

Some were just as angry at the Nusa Twins and the Skinner's actions.

Some were indifferent.

Some sat in the corners, their gazes cold. When Qin Xa's eyes met theirs, they flashed sinister grins.

Qin Xa turned back to watch the arena and let out a single sigh.

"There are bad people among the gladiators."

Angron, under Qin Xa's gaze, was indeed deeply confused.

He could sense many emotions from the two brothers... jealousy, hostility, ruthlessness, coldness.

But merely sensing emotions wasn't enough for Angron to understand why these two wanted to kill him right now; it only confirmed that they did.

Confusion.

Resentment.

And all sorts of other feelings converged, these negative emotions building to their peak, becoming a fury that could only be sated by killing.

Just as an ordinary person, after being humiliated, might burn with a rage that wishes to slaughter the humiliator's entire family.

As the saying goes, rage rises from the heart.

"I'll tear you apart!" Angron roared, throwing his two axes to the ground, ignoring the harpoons still stuck in his shoulders, and charging straight at the Nusa Twins.

Angron's expression was savage and ferocious, his sword-like brows furrowed, his eyes seeming to spit fire.

The moment they saw that expression, the Nusa Twins had already thought of dodging.

But before that thought could travel through their nerves to their bodies, the two brothers found their necks seized by Angron's outstretched hands.

As their bodies mechanically began their dodge, Angron swung his arms inward, bringing them together.

The sound of bones cracking rang out as the two brothers' heads collided and they died simultaneously.

Blood splattered onto the Primarch's face.

With the first drop of blood sliding down Angron's cheek onto the red sand, the ferocity and anger in the Primarch's expression drained away as well.

In the instant before the two brothers died, Angron felt many emotions.

Regret, fear, dread, shock, surprise...

And the heartache of facing death itself—he felt it all.

A single tear slid from the corner of Angron's eye, mingling with the blood and bone fragments on his face, falling onto the Red Sand.

It wasn't the Primarch's tear, but the tears of the two dead men in their final moment, flowing from Angron's eyes instead.

The Primarch stood still, took a heavy breath, dropped the corpses from his hands, and lowered his head, lost in thought.