Rogg, Magnoli, and Nakhsa finally departed for Patisia to attend the grand combat event hosted by Lord Rius. They traveled in a special horse-drawn carriage to reach the destination faster. Along the way, vast valleys and green hills unfolded beside the road. The narrow trail they followed was packed with caravans of merchants from all across the Guava Valley.
Upon arriving in Patisia, they headed straight to Magnoli's western mansion—situated near the bustling city center and the main arena. Their mission was clear: to identify whether there were still any Migase people being kept as slaves in the area.
Meanwhile, Pragyan led the other Migase survivors by sea, circling around the Guava Valley as previously arranged by Rogg and Magnoli. For this mission, Magnoli provided a large ship. But due to the sheer number of rescued Migase, Lord Balin also contributed his own vessel to ensure the journey was faster and more comfortable.
Lord Balin himself chose to join the main convoy headed for Patisia, personally escorted by Nakhsa.
"My lord, are you well enough to travel this far?" Nakhsa asked as he helped Balin into the carriage.
Balin gave a faint smile. "I may be old, Nakhsa, but my spirit still burns. Especially when it comes to the future of the Migase people and the change brought forth by King Miase—by Rogg. I will not sit idly by."
Nakhsa nodded firmly. "Then I'll make sure you're protected along the way."
On another note, Magnoli—known for his eccentric lifestyle—gave the Migase women working under him a choice: they could either join the group or remain under his protection. Many chose to stay, believing they were safer and freer in his service than returning to Migase, a place still haunted by pain and loss. To them, being a servant in Magnoli's home offered a kind of security the past had taken away.
Upon arriving at East Patisia Port, the group was greeted by the thunderous noise of thousands. The harbor lay just beneath a massive hill that had been transformed into a colossal combat arena. It had become the heart of the city—and, some said, of the entire empire.
Pragyan and his men disembarked swiftly, blending into the crowd as they searched for signs of other Migase.
"Patisia's more crowded than I imagined," Pragyan muttered, his eyes fixed on the arena. "That place… it's unbelievable."
Rogg, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. "Lord Rius knows how to draw a crowd."
Tickets for the event had been distributed on a massive scale. Lord Rius, owner and organizer of the arena, divided them into three classes: red tickets for the general public, green for wealthy merchants, and gold for nobles and regional lords. The exclusive gold tickets sold for five wits—the Empire of Whiteheaven's gold currency—and were gone the moment they hit the market.
Green and red tickets also sold out fast. Merchants from Blacksand, Larfex, and Whitesand poured into Patisia just to secure seats. To avoid counterfeits, each ticket bore an official stamp from Rius's own company, BlueGarden, printed on rare natural-dyed fabric.
"This ticketing system… it's brilliant," Nakhsa remarked, awed by the endless line at the arena gates.
"He's no ordinary man," added one of Magnoli's attendants, guiding them through the crowd.
Meanwhile, Magnoli and Rogg headed to the Grand Hall reserved for imperial nobility.
"Lord Rius truly knows how to turn combat into a profitable spectacle. Still, I'm uneasy…" Magnoli muttered.
"Uneasy?" Rogg glanced at him.
Magnoli sighed. "There are too many people gathered. If even one thing goes wrong, it could turn into disaster."
And he wasn't wrong. This arena wasn't just a battlefield—it had become a social arena, hosting thousands of emotions: ambition, resentment, hope, and unrest. For Lord Rius, it was a social experiment. He believed combat could release the pressure built up by years of inequality.
But with such a massive crowd, one thing was inevitable—risk. Even with a large force of arena guards stationed throughout, a large-scale riot could be overwhelming.
The arena itself was a masterpiece of architecture. Built between two hills and using the natural terrain, it formed a massive amphitheater capable of holding over a hundred thousand spectators. Every detail was meticulously designed—from the stands and central platform to emergency escape routes.
"Lord Rius… he's a visionary," Rogg murmured, eyes scanning the towering structure.
"He used to be nothing more than a refugee," said Magnoli quietly. "But now? He's turned a single idea into a nationwide event."
His real name was Damerius. Once a common slave, his life changed after meeting Nicolo. Today, he was one of Patisia's wealthiest merchants—all thanks to one thing: the arena.
The night before the event, Rogg stood on the balcony of Magnoli's mansion, gazing out at the arena glowing with lanterns in the distance.
"You know," said Magnoli from behind him, "tomorrow's not just any battle. Nobles will be there. Elite soldiers. And maybe… some of your people will show up—still enslaved."
Rogg turned slowly. "If I find them… I won't stay silent."
Magnoli nodded. "And I'll stand with you. To fight for the end of slavery."
As he looked back toward the arena, a new resolve stirred within him—not just to free his people, but to shake the very system that allowed slavery to exist.
The arena finally opened with thunderous celebration.
From the noble stands, the roar of thousands echoed across the entire city of Patisia. Streets once calm now overflowed with people. Crowds spilled across the hills, and nearly every citizen flooded the highlands to witness the colossal arena. Patisia had transformed—once a quiet trading city, it had become the greatest spectacle in the entire Guava Valley.
Behind all the festivity, the wealthy merchants—entrepreneurs and trusted lieutenants of Lord Rius—managed the event with precise calculation. Dozens of sales outlets had been opened around the arena: food stalls, clothing stands, jewelry vendors, even light weaponry booths. Though temporary, this surge of commerce turned the area into a colossal festival unlike any other.
"Look at this place, my lord," said Kaelthar, a loyal guard, standing beside Lord Rius on the main balcony. "It used to be a vast, empty savanna. Now? It's become the center of the world."
Rius didn't answer. His sharp gaze was fixed on the arena, now steadily filling with spectators.
It wasn't just the commoners who had arrived. Nobles and regional rulers were also taking their seats. Among them was Prince Neroxius, third in line to the throne and the administrative governor of Patisia. He sat far back in the royal tribune, showing little interest. His expression was calm—almost indifferent.
"He doesn't like this," whispered a minister from Larfex to his colleague in the neighboring box.
"I expected as much," the other replied. "This kind of uprising from the lower classes threatens the old system."
Though their words were quiet, their concern was loud and clear. As a territory under direct rule, Larfex viewed Lord Rius's actions as overstepping—especially in a small city like Patisia. By building the arena and drawing in thousands, Rius had shifted both attention and influence.
"If we allow this to continue," the minister muttered, "it could trigger disobedience. The people are becoming too free. It may undermine Neroxius's authority as the prince of Patisia."
Yet Empress Xienna, who had received detailed reports from afar, took a pragmatic stance. "As long as tax revenue increases and the people do not revolt," she wrote in an official letter to the council, "I see no reason to take action against Lord Rius."
Beneath all the political friction, the first match was about to begin.
Lord Rius rose from his seat, draped in a deep blue cloak adorned with the sigil of BlueGarden on his chest.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he called out, his voice strong and commanding.
The drums rolled in response. Every head turned toward the central stage.
"Our first battle begins now! We present a duel between BlueGarden's very own champion, Hans, and the reigning warrior of Ebeagha Arena—Boidol, representing Lord Nicolo of West Patisia!"
The crowd erupted. Boidol's name had long carried weight—feared and revered for his brutality and undefeated record.
Boidol entered first. Towering and broad, his muscles bulged under his armor, his ebony skin crisscrossed with battle scars. In his hands, he held a brutal flail—a chained, spiked weapon that gleamed under the torchlight. He raised it high, and the crowd responded in unison.
"BOIDOL! BOIDOL! BOIDOL!"
On the other side, Hans emerged from behind the steel gate. He was smaller, but his compact frame was solid. His blonde hair was neatly tied, and in his hands he carried a twin-bladed axe—much lighter than Boidol's weapon, but sharp and agile-looking.
Magnoli, seated beside Prince Dorges and Prince Brisena, leaned back casually while sipping a warm drink.
"I think you'll like Dorges," he said to Rogg.
Dorges gave a subtle nod, eyes fixed on the fighters. "He's light on his feet. But speed alone won't be enough."
Magnoli smiled. "Just wait."
Prince Dorges—renowned for his obsession with the art of combat—watched with barely restrained excitement.
"This... this is what I've been waiting for," he murmured to one of his attendants.
A few rows behind, other nobles had gathered as well.
Seated next to him, Prince Brisena—known as the People's Darling for his compassion—appeared relaxed and cheerful. Though dressed in royal garb, he mingled effortlessly with the commoners nearby, offering warm greetings and kind smiles.
And now, the entire arena focused on the center ring.
The final drumbeat sounded. Boidol let out a ferocious roar, swinging his flail with a deafening crack.
Hans didn't speak. He simply bowed his head, tightened his grip on the axe, and stepped forward—light, composed, and terrifyingly precise.