Page 85 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
I barely had time to be locked up on Vagantu before it was attacked by the Confederation—but I heard enough.
It was a massive slave market.
I was unbelievably lucky to get out unharmed.
“I… I understand. I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Good. Because your attitude will decide your fate. And trust me, you’ll be treated a hell of a lot better working with them than ending up as the merchandise yourself.”
I clench my jaw. My heart is pounding too fast.
The idea of helping spread Zebulon makes my skin crawl… but the alternative is worse.
I don’t want to end up like those broken shapes I saw in the dungeons of Vagantu.
“All right,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I’ll cooperate.”
A predatory smile curls across Nov’s lips.
“That’s more like it. Don’t worry, Sam—those bastards don’t know who they’re dealing with yet. I’ll get us out of this. That’s a promise.”
My poor friend seriously overestimates his own abilities. Sure, he’s way taller than us Humans, but his injured leg slows him down.
He couldn’t even stop the five guys who knocked him out and captured us. What could he possibly have done, alone, against all of them?
“Did you hear the name of the place they're taking us to?” he asks, frowning.
“Yes… They mentioned the Red Arena!”
“By the Stars…”
“You know this place?” I ask, nervous.
“It’s a secondary base of the Coalition. Mostly known for its… let’s say, very particular fights. As the name suggests, they have an arena.”
“Fights? Like gladiator fights?” I ask, horrified.
“I’ve never heard of Gladiators. What star system are they from? Sounds like a new species.”
“No, no… Gladiators were Humans. A long time ago. It was… a barbaric practice from our past.”
Nov narrows his eyes, clearly intrigued.
“Explain.”
“Back on Earth, during the time of the Roman Empire, they used to force prisoners, slaves—or desperate volunteers—to fight in arenas. For entertainment. Often to the death.”
“Is that so? Then yes, I can confirm that’s exactly the kind of entertainment the Red Arena provides.”
“Seriously? People still do that in this day and age?”
“Yes. It draws thousands of spectators. They bet huge amounts of credits on the outcome of the fights. It’s both a wildly popular show… and an incredibly profitable business.”
“A show? Watching two living beings—Human or animal—kill each other, and you call that a show? That’s disgusting. Have you ever stopped to think how invisible cells somehow come together to create life? And not just one form, but billions of variations, each one unique. Life is a miracle. A gift. That’s the real show. It deserves to be protected, celebrated… not destroyed for a crowd’s amusement.”
A heavy silence follows.
Then Nov murmurs:
