Chapter 7

After a couple of days they returned to Crimson Rock and stopped for a while at the Fort. As before, people settled on the right side of the camp, and the unclean ones near the menagerie, and Zaf was very happy to see that everything was fine with his favorite bear.

Kors, Nik and Arel again occupied their room with the painting on the wall.

The days passed lazily and calmly. Most of the time, the three of them lay on the bed, fucked and slept. Prince Arel drove around the neighborhood on his horse.

Kors watched as his Nik in the arena on the left side of the Fort fought with the unclean ones, participating in their battles. Kors understood that the spirit of the Colosseum warrior was strong in him and didn’t disappear anywhere. Nik didn’t need to work now, he didn’t need to earn money for his living, but he did it anyway: he fought for the amusement of the crowd, just like that, just because he wanted it. And of course, because he did it very well. In minimal ammunition, stripped to the waist, with a shock of white disheveled hair and long bangs falling over his eyes, Nik made precise and powerful blows, defeating rival after rival, some in a matter of minutes, moving closer and closer to the final.

Kors watched his dangerous entertainment anxiously, admiring his son and his skill at the same time. He admired his every movement, tense muscles in his arms, he enjoyed how concentrated his expression was when he fought.

Once – and the enemy is already lying overturned on his back, crushed by a heavy boot, two – and the next warrior with his face distorted from pain is holding his right hand, and the sword knocked out of his hand is lying far to the side. Three – at some point, getting too close, the opponent receives a crushing blow with his fist in the face, falls backwards and hits the back of his head, losing consciousness.

The unclean ones screamed incessantly. When Nik once again forced the enemy to lie at his feet, he, smiling, took off his glove and walked around the circle, raising his hand with an open palm, and his unclean ones with their palms and paws beat on it, shouting words of praise. The fights became more and more difficult, the warriors who had defeated the others fought to knock out each other, and in the end there was only one left. At some point, a very bulk and powerful unclean one hit Nik in the gut so that he literally flew backwards, bent over, and crashed into the surrounding howling crowd of unclean ones. They supported him, preventing him from tipping over on his back, as the enemy expected, and pushed him back into the perimeter of the arena. Kors turned pale. This unclean warrior was very bulk and strong, and Kors had no idea how it would be possible to overwhelm him at all. But damn it, his Nik did it, despite the fact that he missed a few more blows. The spectators rejoiced; they jumped, howled and shouted like animals: “White Lord! White Lord!” Nik didn’t leave the arena, waiting for the next fighter to win him over again. And he won. Again. This time, however, he got such a blow in the teeth that bloody splashes flew out of his mouth. And Kors involuntarily screamed along with everyone. Next, another unclean one was supposed to conduct several fights, with whom Nik was supposedly to meet in the final.

Breathing heavily, Nik approached Kors, whose face was literally twisted:

“Is that all?! Have you lost your expensive teeth?”

“No,” Nik shook his head and bared his teeth and showed Kors that his teeth were intact. Kors saw that his mouth was full of blood, and his teeth were also covered with it.