Chapter 57: The Discarded Gladiator Beast

The man, clad in a lavish platinum-colored noble’s suit, suddenly pitched forward and landed face-first in the dirt, his costly attire now smeared with mud and even traces of excrement. The passersby around could barely contain their laughter, yet none dared to laugh outright in his presence—their efforts to stifle their amusement made for an amusing spectacle in itself.

Incensed, the young nobleman burst out, “Who dared to trip me? Which scoundrel is behind this? Show yourself at once, or don’t blame me for what comes next!”

Charles merely shook his head, turned on his heel without hesitation, and walked away, lightly brushing the glowworm on his shoulder.

The little creature understood some human speech and clearly realized the noble had intended to take it. Angered, it had unleashed its power to give him a lesson.

“Sir, sir, please wait for me!” The coachman hurried over from the distance, breathless when he finally caught up. “I’ll take you there at once. Please, follow me.”

“Lead the way,” Charles replied, nodding, paying no mind to the noble’s shouting behind him.

Most ordinary people were unaware of the existence of Spiritbinders. On the surface, this world resembled Europa during the First Industrial Revolution of his previous life. The advent of the steam engine was rapidly replacing small workshops with mass production, transforming people’s lives beyond recognition.

Steam trains, ironclad warships, and other inventions were born, offering the masses a spectacle that challenged their very understanding of the world. The upstart capitalists vying for influence had no inkling of the forces they contended with; to the emperors who wielded the true power of this world, these capitalists were little more than jesters.

The arena itself resembled the ancient Roman Colosseum—a vast, nest-like structure with tens of thousands of seats. Whenever a top-tier beast or a warrior of the highest rank fought, the arena would be filled to capacity in a grand and spectacular scene.

Charles followed the coachman through a side passage within the building. The man led him to one of the managers inside and then quietly took his leave.

“Sir, I am one of the administrators here. You may call me Carlo. May I ask your name?” Dressed in a black uniform reminiscent of a white-collar worker from a previous era, Carlo smiled courteously.

“You can call me Jackson. I wish to purchase the fiercest beast you have,” Charles replied, fabricating a name as he glanced at the man.

Carlo was shorter than Charles, with cropped brown hair and a brisk, efficient air. Behind him stood two towering, muscular men, each at least two meters tall, their arms thicker than his waist.

With a gesture, Carlo said, “Please, sir, this way. I handle all transactions related to our fighting beasts—whatever you desire, we have it.”

Soon they arrived in a vast corridor lined on either side with countless iron cages, each containing a savage and formidable beast.

A black wolf, nearly two meters tall, let out a thunderous roar that echoed down the hallway and made Charles’s scalp tingle. He observed the creature and realized it was not much different from the mutated wolves he’d encountered before. Clearly, these people had remarkable means to capture such beasts.

“Sir, our beasts are graded in accordance with warrior rankings: Soldier, Warrior, Captain, and the highest, General. All the beasts here are at least Warrior-class. Do any of them meet your satisfaction?” Carlo explained as he led the way, describing each beast’s origin and its feats in battle.

Charles remained silent, his extraordinary mental sense allowing him to easily gauge each beast’s aura. Some appeared mighty but were in truth mere paper tigers—inferior stock dressed up as more than they were.

For a Spiritbinder, the only criterion for choosing a totem beast was its innate talent. Once such large beasts evolved, their strength would multiply many times over. To put it into perspective, a poodle, once evolved, could go head-to-head with a wolf and win.

So, he ignored Carlo’s enthusiastic sales pitch about the ferocity of tigers and wolves, focusing only on making his own choice.

“How much for this one?” At the end of the corridor, Charles stopped.

This black dog was in a pitiful state. Its body was more robust than a common forest wolf, but patches of fur were missing, exposing raw, pink muscle. A massive wound almost split its abdomen in two, oozing yellow-brown pus as it festered.

It lay motionless, seemingly lifeless, its eyes veined in red.

“This canine hails from the Duskwood, a terrifying killer of the forest. After its capture and transport here, it was wounded in several beast fights. We were about to cull it. Sir, are you certain about this choice?”

Carlo sensed something odd about the man before him—his presence was not overtly powerful, even resembling that of an ordinary young noble, yet something about him inspired a nameless dread. It was as if a beast disguised as a man stood before him, ready to devour him the moment its mask dropped.

“This is the one. Prepare it for me to take away,” Charles replied, paying no heed to the dog’s grievous injuries. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And that two-headed mutant monkey beside it—bring that as well.”

“Er, very well. These two are not prime specimens. You may have them both for just one hundred gold coins.” Many noble clients had unspeakable tastes, and Carlo thought nothing of it. To sell two dying beasts before they expired was already a handsome profit.

The transaction was completed instantly—payment for goods, goods for payment.

Carlo arranged for a special cart to transport the two beasts to the location Charles specified: a forest west of Stormport.

“Sir, are you sure you want to leave them here?” asked one of the two strong warriors driving the cart, puzzled.

“Release them, and you may go,” Charles replied, alighting with his glowworm in his arms, watching them calmly from the side.

“Understood.” The two men wasted no time, opening the cages and pushing the wounded beasts out.

Both animals were mortally injured, barely clinging to life. Even if released, their deaths would only come sooner, so there was little reason to care.

The cart rattled away without pause. Charles waited a while, then looked around.

It was a secluded path, ringed by thick undergrowth and tall trees—privacy was assured.

He approached the black dog, whose eyes were already dim, the last spark of life flickering out as it gazed at him.

“In the name of Charles, I grant you new life!”

A rainbow of light burst forth, enveloping the creature in a giant cocoon. Yet, no dramatic change occurred at first; then, a pale white glow began to shine from within.

The evolution had begun.

The tattered black fur split apart as the entire body rapidly swelled, a layer of dark brown blood spreading over it, making the beast appear even more ferocious.

On its neck, two bulges swelled violently, and in an instant, a second head erupted forth!