Chapter 16: The Scoundrel

The image of the racer, who had previously appeared like a god atop his chariot, now seemed rather strange—wrapped in a tattered fishing net. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a finely crafted cloak. His face, resembling that of the god of forging, Ulcano, was covered in soot, with only the whites of his eyes and teeth revealing it was indeed a human face. His curly hair was still wreathed in faint smoke, giving him the appearance of a lucky survivor who had just escaped a fire.

The absurd and ridiculous image of the racer, combined with that eerie skeletal horse, made the spectators in the entire arena feel as if they were in a nightmare. It wasn’t until Komer, amused by Uma’s unique appearance, burst into laughter that the arena seemed to wake up from its stupor, erupting in excitement.

When racers from other cities and countries crossed the finish line, the spectators in the stands were shocked to see that two Spartan competitors—one pinned to the chariot by a javelin and the other knocked unconscious by a stone that appeared out of nowhere—lay collapsed by the roadside. The yellow dust filling the air carried a sense of violence and bloodshed, making the Spartans experience the cruelty and danger of these races for the first time. They had always built their joy and excitement on the sorrow of other nations and cities, but now they too tasted the bitterness that followed pain.

The people of Piraeus were the first to cheer, seeing their racer surprisingly defeat the Spartan competitor and win the race. Regardless of whether the racer’s background was questionable or his appearance ridiculous, he had ultimately won the championship—a honor the city of Piraeus had never achieved since its founding. Even if he wasn’t a representative of Piraeus, as long as he could bring down the proud Spartans from this race they had dominated for decades, it was worth celebrating.

Soon, cheers erupted from spectators across all corners of the arena, coming from cities and nations in the southern regions. Alongside their excitement and joy was the deep sorrow of the Spartan spectators. Accustomed to seeing competitors from other nations and cities fail and die, they realized that their own country wasn’t invincible either—someone could shatter their long-held dreams they thought impossible.

The angry Spartan spectators began to vent their frustration. Despite being surrounded by fully armed guards, they showed no restraint in expressing their disappointment and despair. These emotions quickly turned toward the kingdom’s government, with complaints that it did not give enough importance to horse racing and accusations that its overconfidence had led to the loss of the championship. The unprepared Spartan guards were at a loss, forced to remain on high alert as they faced stones and debris thrown by the enraged crowd. They had never imagined their country would lose in a sport it had consistently won for years—horse racing was almost second only to gladiatorial fights in importance to the kingdom. Now, that honor had been taken by the obscure people of Piraeus, and the golden crown shaped like a chariot, made of pure gold, was to be displayed in their city hall until the next Olympic Games four years later, when its fate would be decided. This sense of frustration spread rapidly throughout Athens.

Everywhere, drunken men were causing chaos. The Spartans’ usual composure vanished, and they destroyed public facilities and attacked foreigners. Overnight, Athens turned into a hellish place. It was not until the guards received orders to act urgently and arrest the troublemakers that order was restored.

“Good. This is exactly what we wanted to see. The Spartans’ confidence has been severely shaken. They no longer feel confident or believe that Athena will protect them. Of course, this is just the beginning. The gladiatorial fights in two days will completely destroy their confidence, leaving them utterly disappointed in Athena and enveloped in confusion and despair. That will be the perfect time for the Dark Faction to step in.”

Komer stood by the window, coldly watching the noisy scenes in the streets below the hills. From time to time, flames rose as vandals burned down public facilities. The guards clearly had not yet taken control of the situation. The drunken crowd gathered and fought against the guards trying to restore order. Stones, sticks, and even simple javelins and axes became the people’s best weapons against the fully armed guards.

“But, Dark Lord, the gladiatorial contests are not that simple. The horse racing event has already made Sparta’s rulers aware of the people’s anger. They certainly won’t take the gladiatorial contests lightly. I’m worried that Aristotle’s two disciples might appear in the arena. Although Sorenberg and Vladkov are skilled in martial arts, they don’t stand a good chance against Kaiseren and Shrupig.” Xuro calmly said, “And then there’s Miss Helena. To save face, the Spartans will surely try every means to get the people of Piraeus to challenge Saint Helena. If Mr. Uma can’t use dark magic at will, relying solely on his own martial skills, he’s likely no match for Helena.”
Ke silently nodded. Since Xuro said so, he must have compared the strength of Sorenberg and Vladkov with those two of Aristotle’s disciples. Sorenberg and Vladkov were already the strongest knights around him in terms of martial skills. Having advanced to the martial arts stage, they were diligently exploring its mysteries, but Ke was well aware that they were still far from mastering it. After all, martial arts relied more on accumulation and practice than magic, and there was no quick way to succeed. Although Ke had used the memories in his mind to guide their martial skills, preventing them from taking detours, he couldn’t help them with actual practice—progress required innate talent and hard work.
“But we can’t miss this opportunity. This is the best chance to strike at the Spartans’ morale. If we can undermine the general public’s reverence for the goddess Athena, it will be the perfect moment for the dark faction to gain a foothold among Sparta’s elite. And Sparta’s status in the southern part of the continent is unmatched by any other country; the Kingdom of Iberia can only play a supporting role,” Ke said anxiously.
Xuro wisely stayed silent. He knew there was no need for him to add anything at this moment—the Dark Lord would naturally consider the pros and cons.
“Go and invite Mr. Mihajic. I have something to discuss with him.” After pondering for a long time, Ke finally raised his head. At that moment, Xuro noticed a confident expression reappearing on the Dark Lord’s face.

“My lord, are you saying we should create an illusionary puppet for either Sorenberg or Vladkov?” Mihajic showed unprecedented surprise. “I must be hearing wrong. An illusionary puppet? Is it an illusion magic or magical armor? What do you plan to use as the carrier? You should know that although this gladiatorial contest doesn’t forbid the use of magical armor, it absolutely prohibits magical artifacts. This isn’t a duel between magicians; they revere true combat prowess far more.”

“What I mean is that you can endow Vladkov’s or Sorenberg’s armor with puppet-like intelligence—so that their armor can take the initiative to confront or even attack the opponent at critical moments, distracting them from their killing blows. It doesn’t need to be too complicated; just one chance is enough. The clash between skilled warriors often comes down to a single move. If they can secure that chance, I believe Vladkov and Sorenberg would have a fighting chance. I’ve also asked their opinions, and they’re both eager to get such a chance to experience the unparalleled skill of a disciple of the martial sage Aristotle,” Komer said slowly.

Mihajic fell into deep thought. Not too complicated? Wasn’t this already complicated enough? An armor with intelligence, even life—this lord was truly testing him, and all within just two days. It was far too difficult. Yet Mihajic knew he was already impressed by Komer’s ingenious idea. Though it was still just a vague proposal, it had broadened his thinking significantly.

“Well? Are you interested? Do you have the confidence?” Komer knew it wasn’t wise to interrupt his thoughts at this moment, but time was running out. The second round of the gladiatorial contest would begin in two days, and turning such a fantastical idea into reality would definitely require a great deal of material, as well as intricate design and planning—all of which took time.

“My lord, I’m certainly interested. The problem is confidence. Well, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure. If my lord is willing to assist me, I might give it a try.” Rubbing his temples, Mihajic sighed with a wry smile. “My lord, it seems that every time I meet you, you always bring me so many troubles.”

“Hehe, Mr. Mihajic, you should also add that I always bring you endless inspiration and surprises as well. I imagine your mind must be filled with anticipation now—what kind of monster this armor will turn into once modified. Am I right?” Komer also laughed, though his smile was much more sinister.