Gladiator

"Throw some clothes on this idiot, send him back to his cell, and get someone to clean up this mess. Next time some stupid fucker thinks he can demand an audience with me, let this be a warning." Ezra barked, pointing to the flesh meat of Ivan staining the floorboard. She pushed me out and slammed the door shut.

All that sauce! Curse you, Ezra!

The Guardsman, whose name alluded me for now, snatched me by the neck and slammed me against the wall, " What happened! Why is Ivan dead but not you!"

"Twelve-inch dick, maybe?" I teased, watching my food turn red like a tomato.

The grip around my neck tightened, but as it did, the air began to turn icy to a point where Heaven and earth seemed to be a part of my emotional state, sensing my deepest desire. Frost trickled from the flesh of the Guardsman covering his clothing as my eyes slowly turned cold.

Eyes widening, with a palpitating heart, hammering against his chest, the Guardsman took several steps back, "W-w-what are you!"

Should I kill him? No, tomorrow brings a new day, and anything can happen. Making trouble isn't the right decision, but—

I am thirsty.

"I believe the Lady has given out an order." I kindly reminded, "Care to grant me some clothing, black preferably. I know the way back."

Turning away, I left without another word, using the darkness to ensure no one noticed me as I walked back towards the torture room that was helping with my damaged soul.

Ezra had given me quite a bit of information. I was within the capital city of Lurrian, the Heavenly City of Wonder, Ruled by the Council of Twelve, which is interesting since I wasn't invited. Should I be enraged that they call themselves the Council of Twelve, but neither Noctem, Oblivion, Abyss, nor Hell is present?

Zantar and Balor, those two Fallen, are still scheming, but I think they are waiting for me at this point. Waiting for me to appear and fulfill the prophecy I know is somehow connected with the Cathedral Mephisto and the others are creating.

Everything they do, even in this city, is to fulfill the formation I saw in the atrium within that village. It's a blatant manipulation that I have no intention of messing with.

Once the Gates to Iluthath are open, these Fallen Angels of Hell will have no reason to annoy me. Maybe Mephisto or Belphigor but the others shouldn't.

Tapping my fingers over the icy stone beneath my feet, as I sat in the lotus position, the door was pushed open, with a guard man carrying a tray and a few pieces of clothing. Lowering the tray that looked like it held half-eaten food mixed with throw-up, I didn't even glance at it as the Guard tossed me some clothing, or should I say rags.

"You're up," He said, startling me as I didn't seem to recognize him from anywhere. "The Master calls."

"Ezra?"

The stranger sneered, "It Mistress or Master!" he barked, slobbering like a derange animal all over the food I wasn't going to touch, "And she's merely training you; she is responsible for keeping you alive and fed. Now put on the clothes, eat, and let's go!"

Another is looking to die.

Putting on the rags that strangely only covered my lower half, the Guardsman sneered as I walked past the sloop on the ground, "Lead the way."

POP!!!!

Bitch slapped me across the face; blood dripped from my lips down my chest as I looked down at the Guard who stood shorter than me.

He smiled, and I smiled back," A slave like—"

"When you least expect it, I will kill your entire family and make you watch," I uttered, arching my lips as his eyes widened. "Now, if you will lead the way, less you wish for me to be late to see this supposed master."

It's been a while since I made a stew. I wonder what it'll taste like now; my taste buds have all changed. Hmmm, but stews usually take forty-eight hours to prepare; I guess I could eat 'em lobster style. Boil them alive and throw on some garlic butter.

A/N: There is only one thing Arsene puts in a stew.

Standing still with a starstruck look that twisted into anger, his arms shot out like a viper, but I was prepared. Despite my injuries, I could counter just about anything as long as I wasn't surprised.

After all, if I can think I can create a sigil, that'll allow me to make any type of spell I want; while the power won't be that strong since I'll be pulling unrefined Divinity from the air, it should do some damage to a low god like this fool.

"Holden, stop this at once!" A mischievous voice barked, stopping this fool from dying as a sigil filled my pupils.

Sliding my gaze to the mischievous grin of a man I both knew and didn't, I almost rolled my eyes at the disguise Loki was in.

Jet black hair, thick brows, and a large body oozed grease from each pore. Loki seemed to roll to me with a giant smile, " So you are the slave whose wife sold—"

"Save it; I know it was your doing,' I revealed, seeing through the plot of this idiot trying to blame Lilith.

It wasn't a bad plan, but everything is crystal clear now. I had been so emotional ever since coming through my mother's legs. I could only shake my head at all the things I did for no reason. My God, I was so lazy! What the hell happened to my noble bearing I garner back on earth.

"Your no fun! You mad?" Loki uttered.

"You're an ass, but not really; I figure this had two meanings. You were trying to get me in the city for a reason. But what I don't get is why am I a slave?"

"Gladiator at day, and a slave at night! My friend, embrace life! Hashtag work for free!"

"More like die for free; what's the end game here," I said, looking at the starstruck Guard who busted my lip. I'm going to end all nine generations of his.