A series of exquisite reliefs had been carved into the granite walls of the arena. Lifelike sculptures and Nucerian script depicted stories from the past—a story of betrayal.
When Khârn saw a giant bearing the Butcher's Nails, standing alongside a group of ragged mortals clutching weapons, both his hearts violently contracted.
The craftsmen and artists of Nuceria possessed extraordinary skill, making their carvings remarkably vivid and realistic. That familiar face, that familiar expression of rage—it was Angron before the Emperor had found him.
"What does it say?"
By the time Khârn's cold voice rang out, the overseer was already on the verge of fainting.
He realized that if he dared hesitate for even a few seconds, Khârn's massive chainaxe would chop him to pieces. But if he read the words written there...
The overseer immediately looked as though his parents had died. Before him lay only two different paths to death.
"This... this is the story of the traitor Angron..."
"The former traitor leader Angron dared defy the rule of the High-Riders, leading those equally lowly slave gladiators in rebellion."
"Many slaves answered his call. War raged across Nuceria, forcing the High-Riders to suppress the uprisings everywhere. But in the final battle, this traitor fled without a shred of dignity or honor."
After he shakily read the Nucerian words aloud in High Gothic, all the World Eaters fell into an eerie silence.
Beneath that silence lurked the terrifying fury of a geothermal volcano about to erupt.
"What did you call him? Say it again." Khârn forced out each word from between his teeth.
"Traitor and coward."
"What about the gladiators who fought at his side? What did you do to them?"
The overseer merely pointed at the stone stele by the arena's main entrance, where several lines had been written