CHAPTER 06.01: THE SLAVES AND HONOUR [PART 1]

  Located within one of the vast, formidable, mysterious and well diverse jungles in the western regions of Africa which is shrouded in undiscovered ancient secrets and unknown terrors, Is a large ancient arena.

  The Arena of Hunters, a large ancient arena, standing as prove and symbol of a lost forgotten era, it is a mighty structure standing strong and uncrumpled even under the everchanging harsh conditions of the weather and its seasons. it is partly covered by the growth of stubborn vegetations, such as the creeper marina vines, the white witch flower, the mother hatred plant and many other.

  The arena seating arrangement is a reflection of social hierarchy of both the past and present, with distinct sections designed for the esteemed members of the Odeniyi family and the other part for the common warriors and the spacious center parts of the arena serving as the gladiator pit.

  the main family and sub family circle and then the commoner’s circle. Enclosing on the middle part of the arena are 637 guards serving as a crowd of joy driven audience that are waiting excitedly to obtain pleasure from the soon to begin festival.

  within the sub family circle are its members speaking and discussing with each other which is also apparent in all the other circles. Within the main family circle section is Damilare seating quietly while all his brothers and sister discuss amongst themselves waiting for the arrival of their father.

  Adesanya notices Damilare odd silence and looks at him closely before asking him about how he feels,

  '' Are you okay, Damilare.'' Adesanya asks with curiosity and genuine care.

  '' I am... it's just... I can't stop thinking of when I will awaken. or if I will ever awaken...'' Damilare reply looking at Adesanya with a hollow look and sad tone.

  Adesanya smiles at Damilare before responding

  '' You will awaken, it is not a matter of if, it's a matter of when, and to that i will say continue training, mediating and trying. it will eventually come. there is a saying that one's best moments of awakening is at their lowest point in life.''

  '' was it the same for you.'' Damilare looks at his sister with a expectant expression hoping to hear that she struggled even though she awakened her abilities very early.

  But Adesanya not wanting to lie to her beloved brother turns her face away and replies

  '' No, but just keep trying.''

  This reaction causes Damilare dissatisfaction.

  Then after a few minutes of waiting Abiola and his Advisor enter the Arena and walk to their seating circles. With the entrance of Abiola, the air is rejuvenated with the mood of anticipation, and the murmur of the crowd swells into a loud, intense and deafening roar of excitement and respect. The very presence of Abiola awakened a sense of confidence, might and unity amongst the warriors seated in the commoners’ circle, his charisma was like a blinding light of the blazing sun, his performative masculine pose was as artistic as a well detailed Greek sculpture smuggled by the white merchants. it exuded a mix of contemplation, might, and majesty, as if the very essence of the Greek ideals was manifested as Abiola.

  Then Abiola sits down on his beautiful throne with his advisor standing beside him.

  With a raise of his right hand, the murmur and cries of joy and excitement of the crowd ceases, and instant silence filled the Arena. As all eyes fix upon Abiola, their leader, their chief, their warlord. Abiola slowly puts down his right hand and announces with a sharp and loud voice echoing in the arena and beyond saying,

  '' Let the festival begin.''

  Wild screams of joy and excitement follows his announcement which signified the official start of the festival.

  With the festival officially begun, A large number of skinny slaves, dressed in tattered rags, while carrying swords, daggers, and shields, walk through the dark, wild tunnels beneath the Arena, their eyes cast downwards, their movements varying from sluggish, fearful, aggressive, arrogant and stable. As they emerge from the darkness into the open field were bright blinding rays of sunlight flashed into their eyes.

  They were each ready to face their fates in the Arena, some as warriors, some as cowards, some as madmen, and a few as meat shields.

  With the crowd running mad with excitement and wild like untrained toddlers. Damilare shows his selfish side to the Arena through his unexpected actions.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  unexpectedly Damilare rises from his seat, then with a loud voice announces that

  '' I would like to participate in the matches.'' He said with a focus and serious expression and tone.

  After his statement, all the sound that once filled each section of the arena was replaced with awkward silence, as if the excitement and joy had been sucked out leaving only confusion.

  His noble family members were silent from shock at his statement while the guards and servants were silent because of their disgust. Their intense stares were filled with deadly malice and disgust at Damilare's ignorance and naivety.

  Their glares contained terrifying malice and disgust; their hatred was visible as it colored the atmosphere in pure crimson red. Their gazes were the manifestation of a deep-seated desire to see suffering, blood, survival and death. it was the crowds will to see a slave or two broken, torn in half with powerful pull, slashed, beheaded, terrible in fear and cowardice, cry in terror and pain. Their will was the will of the wild, it was destructive, savage, deadly and terrifying, their minds were all focused on seeing the pure crimson red blood spill on sandy floor and across the wall of the Arena.

  A collective thirst for violence and carnage that united them in wild frenzy and anticipation, their once twisted grotesque faces of excitement and bloodlust was now directed to Damilare as bloodlust containing disgust, hatred and annoyance. From the children, the market people, the elderly, the guards, and the servants, their stares were focused only at Damilare, all without the intention of hiding it.

  The once confident and bold expressions of Damilare began to crumble due to the unbearable intense hatred of 1,729 people. He began to tremble, his smile cracking as he struggled to maintain his composure, his face moving nervously around the arena as if searching for a people not expressing their hatred through their stares or for an escape route from the suffocating tension of intense hatred.

  His Siblings call to Damilare's name with expressions of shock and confusion, questioning him about his unexpected statement he had just made, their voices laced with either disappointment, concern, annoyance or mocking smile.

  as they couldn't believe their own brother would ruling the enjoyment of everyone for his self-desire.

  In the entire history of the festival, not once has a member of the Odeniyi family participated in the festival, in fact it was beneath them and their worth. This was a fact that everyone knew even the commoner hence why they enjoyed it since it was unpredictable, untainted by politics, and a platform for showcasing true talents. but this very fact was been challenged by Damilare statement.

  '' DO YOU TRULY MEAN THAT? '' Akinfemi asked with a annoyed tone and disappointed expression.

  Damilare remained silent. His question made him question his worth, why he had felt it was a good idea, and why he felt so small and insignificant. but his stubborn nature gave him false confidence, causing him to stand firm, his eyes flashing with a defiant determination but his hidden hands shaking uncontrollably exposing his inner terror and fright.

  In his attempt to respond, a mysterious, deep voice answer on Damilare's behalf.

  '' He is very serious, although very brave but he is also very foolish... Brother answer his pleads.'' The mysterious voice says

  Damilare and his siblings not recognizing this voice turn back to see this rude individual. behind them seating in one of the chairs they had though was empty was a mysterious man covered in black clothes and wearing a strange mask across his entire face.

  Abiola recognizing the mysterious voice and imposing figure responds with an annoyed tone, his word tainted with irritation and frustration,

  '' Welcome back, have you decided to stay.''

  '' We will address that later. let's grant the boy his wishes.'' The mysterious man replies

  But Akinfemi flashes with anger at the way the mysterious figure responds to his father, his face twisted into a furious look, his voice containing intense rage as he rises from his chair while walking towards the mysterious figure saying,

  '' How dare you speak to my father like that! show respect to the great …''

  But before he could finish speaking Abiola commands his son to return back to his seat,

  '' Akinfemi return to your seat and remain silent.''

  Then Abiola turns his face to Damilare and reply.

  '' You wish to fight in the slave matches, but know this well.

  no one is going to save you.

  you will be nothing but a disposable pawn,

  a mere entertainment to the masses.

  you will fight, you will bleed, you will suffer and you may die,

  all for the amusement of others. ''

  His voice cold, harsh, and unyielding. His eyes devoid of warmth, his face expressionless. He didn't look at Damilare as his son but as a warrior with the desire to prove his worth without having the confidence to back it.

  Damilare replies staring back at his father with a slightly more determination burning in his eyes than before because he had found a supporter although it’s from a mysterious man.

  '' I'd rather die on my feet, fighting for my hope of awakening, begging for a miracle.

  I am not afraid of the arena or the death that may await me in the arena.

  I’m afraid of living a life without purpose,

  without ever awakening.

  I'm afraid of dying due to torture as a plaything for a awakener

  I'm afraid of losing all the things i love someday in the hands of a random awakener.

  I will either die in this arena as a warrior fighting for hope or survive through awakening...''

  The mysterious man claps his hands at Damilare speech, a slow, deliberate applause that sends shivers down the spine of everyone within that arena but he then says,

  '' Your time of awakening won't be today, but this is another wise step towards it.

  the flame that burns within you is strong and unrelenting,

  but it needs to be tempered, reformed and directed.

  your journey will be filled with danger, sorrow, and death

  but i have absolute faith that you will get your awakening and more.

  the authority of faith and time has deemed it so.

  so, struggle and struggle...''

  The man says while radiating with incomprehensible aura. it was a different aura from Abiola, it was a aura of scholarly wisdom and intellect. it's intensity of a cunning and brutal warrior and tactician.

  AUTHOR: THE PROGENITOR 01

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