When Mr. Mo arrived at the ancient Roman-style circular arena, a game had just begun. Moore, the owner of the arena, heard the news of his arrival and greeted him.
Compared to many years ago, the old man with his red beard had become bloated. He sighed, full of goodness and ill, and said, “What wind blew you here today?”
Mr. Mo had long been used to this. Ignoring this contrasting strangeness, he walked straight to a good position in the center of the viewing area, and sat down on the chair next to Moore. He gracefully tilted his left leg over his right leg. This action lifted the hem of his pant legs upward, exposing the black socks that covered his ankles.
The waiter on the side immediately poured tea. Moore’s hellhound was lying on the side. Seeing the two of them came, he immediately got up, vigilantly staring at Cerberus, who had robbed him of his name.
Cerberus took Mr. Mo’s cane and stood silently behind him. In the arena, two men holding axes and machetes faced each other. The people in the audience made urging sounds from time to time, the noises full of brutality and blood.
Compared to the casino, the cultural level of this world was almost like heaven and earth. Except for aristocrats and a few wealthy businessmen, most of the common people had no rights and no opportunity to be educated, let alone slaves whose status was indistinguishable from livestock. Cerberus, who had personally experienced these two different kinds of life, knew this all too well. When he was a slave, he didn’t even have a name.
“What number game is this?” Mr. Mo picked up the gold wired porcelain cup and sipped the steaming tea. This tea was a specialty of this world, and he could only taste it when he visits Moore.
“Today’s third game.” Moore also took a seat, and they watched as, amidst the cheers, the two men in the arena met in fierce fight at close quarters.
Moore opened this arena and collected tickets to make huge profits. In the absence of other entertainment, civilians could only come here to seek excitement. At the same time, the nobles also choose slaves from here. The braver the fighter, the more expensive the sale. With this arena as his foundation, Moore became a giant.
When Mr. Mo bought Cerberus, who won 16 games in a row, he had spent a lot of money.
Upon returning back to the arena where his own blood was once spilled, Cerberus looked at the circular field below and could not help quietly clenching his fists. A mere few years ago, it was him who stood in the field fighting other people and sometimes even monsters. If the master hadn’t taken him away, he might have died in the belly of this beast.
Cheers rose up as the sharp axe cut into the opponent’s shoulder. At the same time, the machete also scrapped off a large piece of flesh on the man’s waist. Blood poured out and more excited screams erupted. Cerberus lowered his eyes and stared at the ground in front of the toe of his shoes. The wounds all over his body that had long healed seemed to be aching.
Mr. Mo didn’t have much thoughts about gladiatorial fights. He leisurely drank tea and looked at the corner of the arena—there was a row of cages, where the slaves who were about to participate in the gladiatorial fight were locked up.
When he first noticed Cerberus, this slave who had won fifteen victories, was covered in wounds and was leaning on the cage wall, motionless as if dead.
However, when he was forcibly dragged out for the sixteenth game, his Persian Scimitar still cut off his opponent’s head very cleanly.
His whole body was stained red with his blood and the blood of his opponents. Amidst the audiences’ enthusiastic cheers, the referee announced his feat of winning 16 games in a row, and the men who had dragged him out came forward to drag him back to his cage. The slave with deep honey eyes looked up at the sky above his head, and the blood ran down his brow bones, sturdy and solemn, almost dripping into his eyes, but he didn’t even blink.
A bird was flying in a circle in the sky, its wings spread out like steel blades, breaking through the blue dome above him.
At that moment, Mr. Mo lifted his cheek from his hand and sat up a little. He turned to the ecstatic Old Moore, who had won a lot of money, and said, “I want that slave.”
“You want him?” Moore thought he had misheard. This person had watched the game all day long with him, and he didn’t want any of the slaves. This time, why…?
“Mmn, him. Name any price you want. I want him alive.” Mr. Mo stared at the man being dragged away by the two people in the field, leaving a trail of bright red blood streaking after him. His eyes were still open, but his hand quietly tightened on the scimitar.
Even though he was so injured, he still refused to release his weapon, always ready. A messenger finally brought words, and the two men dragging him looked at each other and released their holds on him. At that time, he didn’t know yet that he had recovered his life.
It took awhile for the man to barely manage to get up from the ground. After a while, Mr. Mo was finally able to take a closer look at the slave who was kneeling at his feet.
He named him after a dog, a watchdog of hell.
The cheers reached a crescendo as the man who used the axe almost split his opponent in half. The referee announced the victory, and someone immediately dragged the dead man away and threw his corpse into the cage of a beast.
Mr. Mo sighed softly, put down his tea cup, and said to Cerberus, “How do you feel?”
“……” Cerberus couldn’t help but tighten his throat and whispered, “No feeling.”
Moore finally couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nothing else, just to reinforce the lower passage. After all, business matters.” Mr. Mo stood up, and a black door appeared out of thin air behind him, fluctuating with a palpable spatial energy.
“Let’s go.” He didn’t take a look at the person, but said, “Next time you come to my side, remember to bring me some tea.”
After saying that, Mr. Mo disappeared through the door. Cerberus couldn’t hold back. He took one last look at the arena below his eyes that had sucked out his blood and sweat, before following after him.
“Want to talk then come talk, want to go then go. You’re really too much,” Moore complained in a whisper but didn’t dare to say anything out loud.
This man named Mr. Mo possessed almost magical abilities. Any world that he went to, he could connect it with the world of the casino, so that the people of that world could also go to his casino. Using this method, Mr. Mo was able to expand the casino’s business to the scale of today’s horror in just a few years.
In the same way, this passage had also brought a lot of business to Moore’s arena. Between the two of them, there was a mutually beneficial, win-win relationship with good cooperation.
The foreground object gradually stabilized after a short flash. This place was similar to a basement, with spiral staircases going down. Mr. Mo looked back and saw that Cerberos was also here, so he stepped forward and walked down.
Cerberus kept up with him. His trust in Mr. Mo kept him from asking where he was going. The sight he saw in the arena still made him feel full of emotions. On that day, the master gave him a name. However, until now, he didn’t even know what his master’s name was.
So he asked, “Master, can you tell me your name?”
He’d asked this question once when he first came under his master. At that time, the master gave him the same answer as now. No, today’s tone was completely different.
“My name isn’t important.”
Mr. Mo paused, and said, “Why are you so obsessed with this question?”
“I want to know everything about you.”
Mr. Mo chuckled and looked down at the steps at his feet. He said, “You should know enough about me now to the point where you don’t need to know my name, right?”
While speaking, they walked to the end of the stairs. Unexpectedly, it was blocked by a wall.
Mr. Mo walked straight through, his body piercing the wall. Cerberus saw this and didn’t hesitate to follow up, also piercing the wall.
In the place where his chest was covered by his clothes, the key-shaped pendant faintly glowed lavender, without anyone noticing.
On the other side of the wall was a square room. The room was completely closed with no airflow. A person was shackled to the opposite wall, hanging in a very painful posture. His head was lowered, and it was difficult to see his face clearly. His whole body exuded a strange weakness, but Cerberus still felt that his figure looked familiar.
“I haven’t come to see you for a while, how do you feel?” Mr. Mo walked forward and stopped one meter away from the man. He used his cane to lift the man’s chin.
The man was forced to look up, and Cerberus finally recognized him—he was the master’s trusted supervisor.
Not long after Cerberus became the master’s subordinate, this person suddenly disappeared like vapor. After careful calculations, it was three years already. He didn’t expect to see him in this dungeon today.
This former supervisor was very weak and only the pupil-less whites of his eyes could be seen. When he stared in a certain direction, it was terrifying.
He pulled out a weird smile and said in an angry voice, “There’s no point in useless struggles…”
“Cerberus.” Mr. Mo dropped his cane, and the supervisor’s head hung back down, unable to support itself. “Come here.”
Cerberus stopped behind Mr. Mo. The young man pulled his hand and pressed it on the supervisor’s head.
The supervisor immediately trembled in pain, as if Cerberus, who had not begun to exert any force, had squeezed his head completely.
“When you wanted to swallow me, you definitely didn’t expect that there would be such a day. Isn’t that right, Worm of Mystery?”
The young man’s tone was unprecedentedly cold. A faint purple light overflowed from his hands and wrapped around Cerberus’ palm. When the light touched the supervisor, the man let out a piercing howl that almost transcended the physical meaning, hitting the soul directly. The pain it carried made people just want to tremble.
An indescribable energy swelled up into Cerberus’ palm, and then ran through his body. It was unexpectedly soft and warm, making him feel as if his whole soul was soaked in a hot spring pool, eliminating all fatigue.
The supervisor’s figure suddenly became translucent. Cerberus couldn’t help but widen his eyes. As energy continued to enter his body, the supervisor became more and more transparent and he couldn’t even make a sound.
When the supervisor’s figure completely disappeared in front of him, the continuous energy also disappeared. Cerberus suddenly realized that it was a person’s soul, and now, it was completely absorbed by himself.
He suddenly turned his head to look at Mr. Mo next to him. The young man let out a tired breath and let go of his hand, showing a slightly exhausted look.
A terrifying thought suddenly appeared in Cerberus’ heart. He grasped the young man’s hand that had not yet been completely dropped, and it felt unsurprisingly cold.
He almost couldn’t speak. “…this was originally prepared for you, Master, wasn’t it?”
Mr. Mo gently hummed, but he couldn’t force the man to let go, so he didn’t resist. He raised his gaze and looked at Cerberus. “Yes, this was the nourishment that I had relied on for three years, and now I gave it all to you, because you need it more than I do.”
“I just ask you to remember one thing,” the young man said softly, staring into those deep honey eyes. “No matter what happens, as long as you are still alive, there is hope.”