Episode 9: Standing Out (Part 2)
Battling through fierce waves, Caron finally climbed onto the rocks and moved to his predetermined position.
He'd already mapped every move while still submerged.
The four other slaves followed like waterlogged rats, instinctively trailing Caron without needing orders.
Before long, he'd become their beacon.
When Caron began scaling the cliff with agile resolve, the others mirrored his exact path.
"Hoo!"
With each required jump, Caron exhaled deeply before launching himself upward.
Seawater had scrubbed him clean, exposing glossy skin and wiry muscles now visible through his frame.
His physique had transformed remarkably in mere days - hardening like weeds thriving under trampling feet.
At the halfway point, Caron coiled against the rock for another leap when—
"Aaaagh!"
A slave below screamed as he missed his footing and plummeted to a gory death.
The remaining climbers' movements turned sluggish, fear locking their limbs as heights increased.
But Caron climbed faster, mastering techniques mid-ascent.
Emboldened, the three survivors fixated on his back, scrambling upward in his wake.
Meanwhile,
Altanic and Bathia watched from the opposite cliff, goosebumps rising on their skin.
"He climbs like he memorized the route," Bathia muttered.
"Did he study it during his fall?"
"Preposterous!" Altanic scoffed.
"Who could process details while plunging to their death?"
Bathia jabbed a finger across the chasm.
"Then explain this! Has anyone ever scaled this cliff so swiftly?"
Altanic's retort died.
In decades of observation, he'd never witnessed such speed - least of all from a boy.
"Not just climbing," Bathia pressed.
"He escaped beasts, slaughtered four men solo in confinement, and aced endurance trials."
Altanic grudgingly nodded.
"Near impossible for his age."
"Exceptional talent," Bathia mused, rapping his light armor as Caron neared the summit.
Altanic tensed - was Bathia poaching his prize?
"Considering recruiting him...?"
Bathia snorted.
"Worried? Can't blame you - that boy's prime meat. But fear not."
He clapped Altanic's shoulder.
"I'll leave him to you. Bring him to the capital colosseum. Break him. Mold him into a demon if needed!"
Bathia's grin widened imagining Montecorato's fury when Caron emerged bloodied but victorious.
Madness mattered little if the boy could fight.
Altanic rubbed his palms.
"My specialty."
"Have Gletch test him first."
"The champion? To crush his spirit?"
"Exactly."
As Caron's group crested the cliff, Bathia boarded his carriage - eager to witness the boy's formal induction before his six-month capital assignment.
Unseen,
A scout sworn to General Eugenia observed the procession before galloping north to relay news to the prince.
Returning slaves provoked mixed reactions.
Uutaro quintupled his shillings betting on Caron, while Gletch lost fortunes wagering against him twice.
"Damn persistent whelp!" Gletch spat at Caron's impassive figure in the training yard.
Thirty gladiators assembled as Altanic announced:
"Four gladiators will be selected. Step forward when called: Giorgio! Matteo! Hime!... Gletch!"
Gasps rippled through ranks.
Palemon's champion testing a novice? Unheard of.
Gletch stalked forward, baring teeth at his opponent.
"Feel honored, runt."
Perfect chance to recoup losses through brutality.
The trial wasn't meant to be lethal - slaves simply needed to display promise before intervention.
Yet Gletch planned permanent damage: I'll make this cockroach wish he'd fallen.
Caron stood motionless, unfazed by the killer's aura.
From formation, Uutaro studied Gletch's predatory grin with deepening unease.
That afternoon,
Exhausted slaves slept in cells while Caron drilled obsessively in shadows.
His eyes - once vacant - now glinted like honed steel.
Had he remained with his mercenary parents, such metamorphosis would've taken years.
But生死 trials accelerated growth, his photographic memory and heightened senses compressing decades into days.
Through night,
He replayed Gletch's fighting patterns, muscles twitching through imagined parries.
His adolescent frame visibly thickened with each repetition.
Dawn revealed a rare spectacle:
Altanic's family watched from balcony beside Bathia and Tripolas commanders as gladiators encircled the arena.
Altanic spread his arms.
"Let the promotion matches commence!"
Cheers erupted - more comrades meant fewer fights.
Challengers bore black body paint; veterans displayed chest sigils.
Unbreakable Palemon-wood practice swords were distributed.
Two challengers passed, one failed.
Caron's turn came.
Gletch entered roaring, met by deafening cheers.
Caron simply raised his blade, face impassive.
Above,
Altanic and Bathia leaned forward, eyes locked on every micro-movement.
