...
"Boy… Did you directly consume the Energy Booster?" asked the Dojo Master, and Socrates fell unto his knees.
"For… For… Cough" He coughed out blood as he nodded.
"Socrates." Amelia called sharply as she rushed toward his direction, when one Master from the House of Baculum tried to rush to her.
"Woman, you belong to us now." The Master reached out to grab her, when Socrates suddenly rose up, his dagger pulled out from his inventory as he got between the Master and his sister. In that instant, a hand gripped the dagger, and the other on his neck.
"You dare…" he whispered, and the Master stopped instantly, as the tension in the front yard rose beyond what any ordinary person could suggest.
"What just happened?"
"How can he move so fast without being a Cultivator?"
"Even with his state, he still protects his sister."
This moved the House of Trueblood as killing intents radiated from them…
If anything, this would escalate into war anytime soon…
The Master warrior looked back, only for him to be compelled to head back, which he did.
Socrates shifted his dagger edge from the warrior to the Ashur Patriarch and then to his sister. He walked toward her, grabbed her hand before she could say anything, and slashed the edge of the blade softly on her palm, drawing out blood.
Amelia flinched, but she didn't say anything. She trusted her brother with her life.
He pulled out the token given to him swiftly and smeared her blood on top of it. In the next moment, a line of text rose up in the air.
[Congratulations Amelia Trueblood]
[You're qualified to become a Freshman in the Laurel Academy.]
[Head to the capital for your final test; an instructor will be sent to you.]
Everybody was flabbergasted on seeing the text… Socrates had bonded the token he won to his sister…
He had given up his chance to join the academy and presented it to his sister…
"Brother. What did you do?" Amelia asked, but Socrates only smiled at his sister before turning toward the Cultivator in the white robe.
The Cultivator rubbed his temple as he stared at the boy…
BRAZEN… that's the only word he could use to describe the boy.
"You have wit, boy… I'll give you that…" The Cultivator said as he turned to the crowd. "I'm an instructor of Laurel Academy. Amelia Trueblood is now a recognized freshman of the Academy, so she's under my care… Any harm against her is a Declaration of war against the Academy."
The man on the white robe announced, shocking everyone…
Their eyes naturally turned to Socrates. Even in the face of death… he still made sure to protect his sister to the very end…
The faces of the House of Baculum turned ashen… They were supposed to be the ones to have the lady… They had already planned how to rape her, molest her, use her until they were tired… and now this… They couldn't do anything; they couldn't afford to offend the Academy.
"Amelia…" Socrates whispered as she looked up, her face filled with tears. "Why… Why are you doing this for me? I'm the Elder sister; I'm supposed to be the one to protect you." She sobbed harder, causing Socrates to pull her into a hug.
"Being Elder doesn't give you the permanent duty of protecting the younger ones. The younger ones also grow; protecting each other is the key… Live your best life in the Academy, you're very talented, sister… I'm aware of it… Show them… Show them the might of Trueblood." Socrates said to his sister as she sobbed tightly in his arms…
The rest watched… They all stood there, watching the siblings' display of bond, which almost took an hour…
Before they finally disengaged…
"What are you going to do now?" Amelia asked, cleaning her tears.
"Do what father would have done," Socrates replied back as he turned back…
"No, no… No, you can't go… You can't give yourself to them." She cried as she tried to stop him, but the Instructor used his energy to control her movement toward him.
While Socrates took a step forward toward the House of Ashur, Amelia was pushed backward by a force controlled by the Instructor.
Every step he took was measured and heavy as he walked toward the enemy lines.
"I caused this mess… It should end with me… The House of Trueblood shouldn't be dragged into it," Socrates said as he fell on his knees before the Patriarch… He had given up…
Everyone was aware that he had given up, and why so…
The reason why he surrendered himself…
The reason was because he had secured safety for his sister…
His sister was now in safe hands; he didn't have to worry about her anymore.
"Good. You know your limits, boy… I give you that… You're an unparalleled genius who appeared once in a millennia… Only, just only, you were not born in the Trueblood family; maybe your fate would have been different." The Patriarch said to him as he raised his left hand. His fingers were straight and pointing toward the sky as he gathered energy into it.
The energy was red in color as it took the form of a blade, which extended out of his fingers…
"For the sake of the House of Ashur… DIE…" The Patriarch cried out as he brought down the blade on Socrates' head in a swift motion.
"STOP." A voice screamed almost immediately, and a terrible force pushed everyone backward…
The blade that was supposed to split Socrates' head into two only grazed the side of his face, as a terrible force had pushed the Patriarch away…
Not just the members of the House of Ashur, but everyone present, including the Cultivators of the House of Trueblood, found themselves kneeling on the ground due to the intense pressure that overwhelmed the air.
TAP. TAP. TAP…
All eyes turned to the direction from which a silhouette strolled inside.
The silhouette was massive, larger than anyone present. He was twice the size of the Patriarch…
Not only that, the silhouette was shirtless, his black hair twisted into dreadlocks while he wore black combat trousers and iron boots that knocked heavily on the ground.
Everyone recognized him immediately, bowing slightly in respect, except for the Grandmasters of the Houses.
"The House of Ashur pays greetings to the Northern Gladiator."
"The House of Baculum pays greetings to the Northern Gladiator."
"The House of Trueblood pays greetings to the Northern Gladiator."
"Enough of the formalities… I WANT THAT BOY." The Northern Gladiator declared, shocking everyone.
"He has garnered enough fame recently… He's the talk of the whole Chania City… Since he has broken his meridians and can't cultivate, he's the fine specimen for the Gladiators… Since you all wanted to kill him, why don't you hand him over to this seat?" The Northern Gladiator demanded.
"With all due respect, Senior, the boy is not a Gladiator nor trained in that way… I'm afraid we won't be able to hand him over to you… He's better off dead, with his body properly buried, than die like a dog in your pavilion." The Trueblood Patriarch replied, his face ashen.
"I see… What about the House of Ashur?"
"If you want the boy, the House of Ashur will naturally step back for Senior…" The Patriarch replied with a smile… Relief flashed across his face…
"The House of Baculum has no interest in this matter."
"The boy has given up his position at the Academy, so I have no jurisdiction in this matter." The Instructor said, holding Amelia tightly with his energy palm.
"The boy has graduated from the Heavenly Dipper Dojo and is no longer a member, so I am no longer his Instructor." The Dojo Master denied.
One by one, they all denied Socrates…
"Forgive our Patriarch, Brother Northern Gladiator…" Said one of the Elders as another restrained the Patriarch's movements and blocked his mouth. "We will naturally hand over the boy to you…"
"GOOD." The Northern Gladiator laughed as he took a step forward, grabbed Socrates by the back, slinging him over his shoulder…
"Thank you for the free gift." The Northern Gladiator smirked before crouching slightly and then jumping into the air aggressively, disappearing out of sight.
It was then that the Elder released the Patriarch.
"I'll be leaving with the Lady." The white-robed Instructor announced, taking Amelia with him using an energy fist toward the Academy.
"The House of Baculum will depart…" His members also left.
"The Heavenly Dipper Dojo sends regards to the House of Trueblood." The Dojo Master bowed and left, leaving behind the Ashurs and Truebloods…
"Should I remind you all to scram from my manor…?" The Patriarch cried out aggressively, while the Ashur Patriarch laughed out loud.
"We are already going…" he said as he left with his members.
Although he didn't get to kill Socrates with his own hands, the logic was simple: an inductive conclusion. Socrates would suffer a fate worse than death.
Three years ago, a broken Cultivator died in the Gladiator's battle royal.
Two years ago, a broken Cultivator died in the Gladiator's battle royal.
One year ago, a broken Cultivator died in the Gladiator's battle royal.
Socrates was a broken Cultivator. Socrates would die in the Gladiator's battle royal.
If not the royal, then the arena… No matter what, only death awaited Socrates in the world of the Gladiators…
And that alone was more satisfying for every member of the House of Ashur…
Because the one who took the life of one of theirs was going to die like a dog with no one to bury him…
"So satisfying… Hahaha.."