Chapter 410: The Bandit King

The remaining gladiators did not stay discouraged for long. Kael could almost see the reasoning passing between them as they watched their defeated companions. Three had attacked and failed, but perhaps they had simply approached badly. A lack of coordination could explain it, or maybe Kael had gotten lucky. Apparently, five opponents attacking together would be a more convincing test.

He watched them whisper among themselves before five stepped forward. Kael sighed and lowered his arms, giving them a moment to reconsider a decision they clearly thought was clever.

"You really didn’t learn anything."

The oldest gladiator shouted something and pointed his cutlass toward Kael. The five spread out, with a swordsman moving left while an axe wielder circled right. A short spear, a hammer, and a pair of curved knives completed the assortment of weapons approaching him.

At least they were thinking this time. Their formation widened until Kael stood at its center, and the crowd’s laughter faded as the possibility of a proper fight renewed their interest. Kael rolled one shoulder and watched the swordsman settle his grip. The first three had received a warning. These five were about to receive a lesson.

The swordsman attacked first. Kael stepped inside the swing, caught the young man’s wrist, and twisted while pulling him forward. Bone snapped beneath his grip, and the scream came immediately.

The sword fell from suddenly useless fingers as the gladiator dropped to one knee, clutching an arm that no longer bent correctly. Kael pushed him aside and turned toward the spearman already trying to take advantage of the opening.

A half-step carried him away from the thrust. He caught the shaft beneath one arm and kicked the side of the attacker’s knee, producing another sharp crack. The young man collapsed before he could pull his weapon back, and Kael released the spear as he fell.

The axe wielder hesitated after seeing what had happened to the first two. That gave Kael enough time to cross the distance and drive a fist into his stomach. He kept the blow controlled, using enough force to fold the young man forward without rupturing anything inside him.

Before the gladiator could fall, Kael caught the back of his head and brought a knee upward. The impact snapped his jaw sideways and sent him into the dirt, where he remained groaning through a mouth already filling with blood. Kael looked down at him and shook his head.

"You’re eating soup for two weeks."

The hammer came from behind. Kael turned as it swept past his chest, caught the attacker’s forearm, and dragged him forward using the momentum of his own swing. A short punch struck the ribs, followed by another to the shoulder. Kael hit the thigh next, then finished with a blow to the opposite side.

None of the strikes were individually devastating, but together they made a convincing argument against continuing. The gladiator staggered backward with bruises already darkening beneath his skin. Kael gave him one final kick in the backside, sending him face-first into the dirt.

The last attacker stopped with both curved knives still raised. His eyes moved from the broken arm to the ruined knee, then toward the man clutching his jaw. By the time he looked at the fourth fighter curled up among the others, his grip had become noticeably less certain.

Kael pointed at the knives and waited until the young man looked back at him.

"Drop them."

The gladiator did not understand the words, but the gesture seemed clear enough. One knife fell, followed almost immediately by the other. Kael nodded in approval as the young man began backing away.

"Excellent decision." He said in a light double clap.

The crowd booed. Kael looked toward the stands, where several spectators were shouting and pointing at the disarmed fighter as though his survival had personally offended them.

"Oh, shut up."

The young gladiator continued retreating until he reached his companions. None of the others attempted to take his place, and Kael turned slowly to make certain everyone could see him properly.

He had not killed anyone, although the opportunity had been there every time he struck. The difference between breaking an elbow and breaking a neck was not particularly significant when he could overpower them this easily. A stronger kick at a different angle could have done considerably worse than destroy one man’s knee.

They appeared to understand that now. Kael had chosen how much damage to inflict, and he had stopped when each opponent could no longer fight. Whatever remained of their confidence depended entirely on believing he would continue showing the same restraint.

The four who had not attacked stood together, watching him. One still held a bow, another had an axe, and the oldest retained his cutlass. None seemed eager to discover whether Kael’s patience would survive a third attempt.

The crowd began shouting again, urging them forward. Their apparent leader looked toward the stands, then back at Kael, who crossed his arms and waited. After several seconds, the cutlass slowly lowered.

Weapons began hitting the dirt. The bow followed, and within moments every remaining challenger had abandoned the fight. Kael looked across the surrendered weapons and the injured men still groaning nearby.

"Finally."

[THIRD ROUND COMPLETE]

[TRIAL OF THE CHAMPION CLEARED]

All challengers have been subdued.

Lethal Force Used: 0

Challenger Fatalities: 0

Submission Condition Achieved.

Kael’s eyebrows rose at the final line. He glanced toward the young gladiators again, several of whom were still watching him as though they expected another beating.

"So surrender does counts."

That changed the Trial considerably. The system had only required him to subdue them, and convincing them to stop fighting apparently satisfied the condition. The audience wanted violence, but the Tower accepted victory without demanding that he kill everyone involved.

[Alternative Victory Condition Recognized]

Overwhelming an opponent’s will to continue fighting qualifies as successful subjugation where applicable.

Kael smiled as he read the explanation. It would have been considerably more helpful before twelve frightened young men entered the arena and began trying to stab him.

"That would have been useful information ten minutes ago."

The commentator’s voice boomed overhead before Kael could examine the notification further. Apparently, the man had found a way to make surrender sound exciting.

"WHAT MERCY! OUR CHAMPION COULD HAVE PAINTED THIS ARENA WITH THE BLOOD OF TWELVE YOUNG GLADIATORS!"

The audience responded with a mixture of cheers and boos. Kael looked upward, wondering how much the commentator was being paid to shout things everyone had already witnessed.

"Bit dramatic."

"YET HE CHOSE RESTRAINT! STRENGTH TEMPERED BY KINDNESS! FEROCITY GUIDED BY MERCY!"

The man made it sound as though Kael had rescued twelve infants from a burning orphanage. Several of the young gladiators were still lying on the ground, which seemed to undermine the description somewhat.

"I broke four of them."

Nobody heard the complaint. The announcer continued praising him with the same enthusiasm that had preceded the previous Trial, and Kael felt his smile begin to fade.

"BUT MERCY HAS CONSEQUENCES!"

Kael sighed and glanced toward the gates. The commentator had finally reached the part that concerned him.

"There it is."

A familiar pulse passed through his body as his resources reset. He had spent very little during the fight, and none of the challengers had managed to land a proper hit, so the restoration barely registered. What happened around him was considerably harder to miss.

The young man with the broken arm gasped as his elbow shifted. Bone moved beneath the skin before the limb straightened, leaving him staring at it in disbelief. Nearby, the gladiator with the ruined knee pushed himself upright and discovered that his leg could support his weight again.

Another touched his jaw as it snapped back into place. Bruises faded, swelling disappeared, and cuts closed across the twelve young men. Within seconds, all of them were standing healthy again.

Kael narrowed his eyes. The last time the arena restored the surviving fighters, it had immediately announced another round.

"No. You’re not making me fight them again."

The commentator laughed, apparently preparing something else entirely. The restored gladiators looked just as confused as Kael, with several still checking injuries that no longer existed.

"THE DEFEATED HAVE SEEN YOUR STRENGTH! THEY HAVE FELT YOUR POWER!"

One of the young men rubbed the arm Kael had broken. Kael glanced toward him and found it difficult to argue with that particular description.

"That part is accurate."

"AND THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO FOLLOW!"

The crowd cheered as Kael went still. He looked from the young gladiators to the stands, waiting for something that might make the declaration less concerning.

"What?"

[FOURTH ROUND]

[TRIAL OF COMMAND]

Through strength, you have subdued those who challenged you.

They now recognize you as their leader.

Role Assigned:

[BANDIT CHIEF]

Supporting Units:

[12 Bandit Underlings]

Kael stared at the panel, then at the twelve young men. One of them looked particularly offended, apparently having received some version of the same information. Kael pointed toward him before the expression could become another accusation.

"Don’t look at me. I didn’t name you."

"A BAND OF OUTLAWS, HUNTED ACROSS THE PROVINCES!"

Kael closed his eyes for a moment. Apparently, sparing people meant being placed in charge of them, and the Tower had decided the most appropriate promotion involved organized crime.

"Of course."

The light across the arena shifted while drums began beating somewhere beneath the stands. The crowd quieted almost immediately, allowing the commentator to give their newly assigned criminal careers the attention he believed they deserved.

"THEIR CRIMES ARE MANY! THEIR BOUNTIES GREAT! THEY HAVE ESCAPED EVERY PATROL, EVERY ROADBLOCK, EVERY ATTEMPT TO BRING THEM TO JUSTICE!"

Kael looked across the twelve young men. Most barely seemed old enough to have committed interesting crimes, much less become notorious fugitives. The one whose backside he had beaten with a broken spear shaft avoided his gaze, apparently unwilling to discuss the beginning of their shared career.

"But their luck... HAS RUN OUT!"

Trumpets sounded as the opposite gate slammed upward. Boots struck the stone passage beyond it, too many to belong to another small group of challengers. Kael’s expression changed as the first rows emerged.

These were proper soldiers. Brass-colored armor protected their torsos, with red cloth visible beneath segmented plating. Large shields covered one side of their bodies while short swords rested ready in their other hands. Their helmets carried pronounced crests, and their formation remained tight as they marched onto the arena floor.

Kael counted twenty, then thirty, with more following behind them. The crowd erupted again, apparently delighted that the recently merciful champion had become a criminal who needed dealing with.

"THE EMPIRE HAS FOUND THEM!"

The soldiers halted and struck their shields against the ground together. The heavy impact rolled through the arena, and Kael noticed his twelve newly appointed underlings moving closer to him.

"That didn’t take long."

More horns sounded before the first pair of chariots burst through the gate. Each was pulled by two armored warhorses, with a driver holding the reins while armed soldiers stood behind him. Kael’s attention dropped toward the wheels as the vehicles turned onto the red dirt.

Long, curved blades extended from the hubs on either side. They looked more than capable of removing the legs of anyone unfortunate enough to stand beside a passing chariot.

"..."

A third chariot emerged, followed by a fourth. The infantry spread to make room while the horses accelerated, pulling their vehicles into a wide circuit around the arena. Wheels dug into the churned ground, and the blades struck scattered debris left from the earlier rounds.

Dust began rising behind them. They completed one circuit, then another, increasing their speed until the horses and their riders became shapes moving through the haze. Kael turned slowly to track them, watching one pass roughly twenty meters away while another traveled in the opposite direction.

They were not attacking yet. Each circuit added more dust to the air, gradually making it harder to judge their positions. The sound of wheels and hooves traveled through the haze long before the vehicles themselves became visible.

The young gladiators clustered closer. Their former leader said something Kael could not understand, but the question on his face was clear enough. He wanted to know what they were supposed to do, and apparently that had become Kael’s responsibility.

Kael looked toward the infantry. The soldiers had begun advancing with their shields forward and their swords concealed behind them. Their pace remained slow and steady while the chariots continued circling, leaving the group in the center with less room to move.

Now the design of the Trial made sense. The Gladiatorium had made him survive, then fight alone, then become the opponent other people had to overcome. Now it wanted to see what he could accomplish with twelve lives depending on his decisions.

He glanced across his underlings and found little reason for confidence. None wore proper armor, and none appeared experienced enough to survive a disciplined infantry charge. Only minutes earlier, several had been trying to stab him. Apparently, that qualified as sufficient preparation for following him into battle.

One of the chariots disappeared into the dust. Kael heard its wheels before he saw it again, moving faster and drawing closer than the vehicles still circling the perimeter.

He raised one hand, and the young men around him stopped moving. Kael looked from the advancing shields to the chariots, then cracked his neck as his grin widened beneath the helmet.

"All right. If I’m the boss..."

The nearest chariot turned sharply toward them. Its horses broke through the haze, dragging the bladed wheels into a direct approach.

"...then listen to the boss."