A Good Man's Past

Chapter 33: A Good Man's Past

Oenomaus was pinned to the ground.

No one was holding down the young, powerful, terrifying "fierce bear," but the gravitational restraint crushing him held him immobile like an iron bear trap.

Corpses lay before Oeno.

None belonged to nobles or the nobles' lackeys. They were all Rebel Army fighters and civilians who had chosen to follow the Rebel Army.

The High-Riders' lackeys were lining people up and shooting them.

With every gunshot, an entire row of dozens fell neatly to the ground.

"Traitors! Traitors!"

Oenomaus struggled desperately, his bloodshot eyes fixed on a rag-clad beggar.

Several other ragged figures stood around the beggar, along with some wearing crude leather armor.

They had all once been members of the Rebel Army.

Even in his fury, Oeno could not wrap his head around why those who had once fought beside him were now standing with the enemy.

No...

Perhaps they had been on the enemy's side from the very beginning.

Oenomaus would understand this after some time had passed.

"Kill every Rebel Army member. Destroy every city whose people supported the Rebel Army and refused to abandon darkness for the light."

"But leave Oenomaus alive."

A cold command descended from the sky.

A woman with pure white wings embedded in her back descended from above.

She was a High-Rider.

Every thread of her extravagant attire could buy hundreds of slaves, and the gems in her crown were worth enough to purchase a nation. They proclaimed her identity.

"Traitor, traitor..." Oenomaus repeated the word over and over, until his furious roar turned into sobbing.

"Shh, shh, shh." The female High-Rider came to Oeno's side, crouched down, and held his head as she softly consoled him. "You were just hit by an oxygen-extraction round. Your organs are severely deprived of oxygen. You can shout later."

"Traitors... lackeys..." Oeno continued cursing, saliva and tears splattering across the High-Rider's gauntlet as she wiped the blood from his face.

Oeno rammed his head into the High-Rider's chest, but the attempt only earned him two minutes of unconsciousness—because a thin layer of Energy Coating covered her body.

"How should I comfort you?" The High-Rider continued holding Oeno. "I gave you a chance, Oenomaus. I told you that if you agreed to return to my side, I would turn your people and subordinates into your slaves and playthings, so they could keep playing at rebellion with you."

"Just like our relationship before."

Those final words poured into Oeno's ears like blazing fire, instantly igniting every bit of confusion, resentment, and hatred in his heart.

Oeno wanted to unleash a stream of curses.

The High-Rider knew that he wanted to curse, too, but such filthy words were clearly inappropriate in such a public setting, especially with other nobles present. So she covered Oeno's mouth.

Gently. The "Silence Field" built into her glove kept Oeno's words from passing through her palm.

"This isn't your fault. You're too naive, too kind." The High-Rider consoled him softly. "Of course you couldn't see that there were people in your ranks with ulterior motives. Even if you did see it, you would have wanted to reform them."

Oeno raised his head and glared at the High-Rider. His gaze was so vicious that even her guards instinctively stepped back.

"Your little rebellion game made far too many mistakes."

"Why can't you understand that people who share your Destiny do not necessarily stand with you?"

As she spoke, the High-Rider turned to look at the "traitors" behind her, examining them one by one.

"You don't seriously believe that so-called freedom from enslavement is more important than every one of them being able to eat their fill and stay warm from now on, do you?"

After saying that, the High-Rider looked back at Oeno.

Her tone was gentle, but to Oeno, it was utterly terrifying.

"Come back. Stop playing this rebellion game."

"You've followed me into battle since you were three. You know what I'm capable of. You know what the other gods of Nuceria are capable of."

"Don't force me to hurt you again."

"..."

"Get away from me!" Oeno ground out through clenched teeth. "I'd rather go to the Arena than be your slave!"

The High-Rider froze for a moment, but her surprise was quickly replaced by a smile that said everything was under control.

"You'd rather go to the Arena than return to my side as a slave?"

She spoke.

"Looks like I still have to give you a little punishment, just like when you were young."

"Do you remember how your parents and sisters died because of your mistakes? Soon, even more people will die because of your mistakes."

She took out a metal tube no bigger than a toothpick and acted on a thought.

Gravity descended from the sky and instantly crushed the traitors whom Oeno had cursed and condemned.

Oeno was still struggling and raging inside, but outwardly he merely rolled over on the ground. The searing pain made him convulse so violently that he could not utter a single clear word. Tears streamed down his face as his entire body spasmed.

He felt as though someone were driving a knife into his heart.

Those traitors were hateful, but because they had once fought at his side, Oeno could not completely harden his heart toward them, much less applaud their deaths.

And worse still, they had been killed by the High-Rider before him, bringing back the memories that tormented him most.

"This isn't my fault." The High-Rider smiled. "I originally intended to let them live like livestock, but you forced me to kill them. This is your fault."

Oeno lay on the ground clutching his heart, convulsing in agony, oxygen-starved, coughing and gasping violently.

Slowly, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw a cave and the other Gladiators.

"What happened to you?" Angron stepped forward and asked.

Qin Xa also opened his eyes and looked toward Oeno.

"Nothing." Oeno shook his head. "I just had a dream."

"You had a dream?" Angron raised a brow and helped Oeno up from the ground. "A dream where someone died? I felt a piercing pain from you. I only feel that way when someone dies near me."

"It's nothing." Oeno smiled. "Really, it's nothing. Just a nightmare."

Angron nodded and returned to his place.

Qin Xa closed his eyes as well, continuing his exploration of psychic power.

Oeno glanced out the window, then looked at the Gladiators and found that everyone was awake. Dawn had come as well.

So this "Old Bear" wanted to ask Qin Xa about what they had discussed in the dream yesterday, but Angron nodded at him just then.

Qin Xa had already spoken with Angron.

Making Angron understand the necessity of cruelty was easy.

Every death made Angron feel as though it were happening to him, but he not only shared the feelings of those he cared about—he cared about those feelings even more.

During these days in the Arena, Angron had felt that Qin Xa, Oeno, and some of the others cared for him and looked after him... If an ordinary person's death brought a sudden, piercing pain in an instant, then the deaths of Qin Xa and those who cared for him, whom he cared for, would be like having his heart torn open, his bones pried apart, and his tendons ripped out.

So Angron made a choice: everyone he cared about would live.

"Ahem." Oeno got to his feet, cleared his throat, and said to everyone, "I thought about it all night. I have an idea. Can everyone hear me out?"

At those words, most people showed no reaction.

Kleist already knew what was about to happen.

Yochula was resting because of his severed arm.

Qin Xa also knew what was about to happen.

And Angron had already instinctively sensed everyone's emotions at that moment.