Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

Why did you come here?

Why not kill people?

Why would he backstab me?

They are just a bunch of gladiators, what is there to save them?

Angron dodged the whistling axe, the rusted blade barely glancing past him.

At the moment the gladiator leaned forward due to inertia, the wooden stick in his hand had already drawn a precise arc.

"Bang!" A dull impact sound exploded between the ribs and the wooden stick, and the gladiator's body collapsed like a puppet with broken strings. The battle axe in his hand hit the sand with a "clang", raising a small cloud of bloody dust.

"Because the ability is mine, the power is mine to use, and I choose to take responsibility."

Angron's voice was as heavy and fiery as molten steel boiling in a furnace. He looked up at the maggot eyes in the sky, which were still hesitant to declare a winner.

The Maggot Eye flew in front of Angron, and the announcer's sharp laughter came from the speakers: "The game is not over yet. Only one will walk away alive. There will be no loopholes for you this time!"

"No," Angron refused calmly.

The announcer laughed, a raspy laugh like a saw blade scraping against bone. "Ha! Our champion wants to be the savior?"

The announcer hated Angron, but the rules were the rules, and not even Claudia could help him this time.

And that bitch actually bought everyone's survival this time. He will make sure she loses everything this time!

That bitch is so beautiful, but she would rather let a lowly male lover play with her than let these equally noble knights enjoy her!

She acts so cool and aloof on weekdays, but I wonder how slutty she is in bed!

This damn bitch! Wooden structure!

"Listen, 'hero', the rules are the rules! Either you break their necks yourself, or you let them slowly roast into mummies in the scorching midday sun!"

Angron slowly raised his head. "Rules are rules, but who makes them?"

Angron's voice crackled like thunder. "You? Or the audience? No, I will not accept your rules. Only the people will!"

"Tell me," he pointed at the groaning gladiators on the ground, then suddenly turned to the dark crowd in the stands, "Do you want them to die or live?"

The entire arena fell into an eerie silence, even the sound of breathing could be clearly heard, and tens of thousands of spectators simultaneously held down their pounding hearts - this simple choice, at this moment, seemed to carry a heavy weight.

Why did they come to the Colosseum?

Because life is too hard, because they are squeezed to the point of suffocation!

They huddle in moldy slums all day long, and even anger has become a luxury.

Only in the arena, watching the gladiators bleeding and wailing on the sand, can these trampled souls briefly feel that they are still alive;

Only by witnessing the weaker ones being torn apart can they forget that they are also ants trampled under the feet of the powerful.

But today, Angron gave them a second choice.

Why should they cower under the rules set by the high-ranking knights? Why can't they make their own rules?

Just like ten days ago, a hoarse voice suddenly pierced the silence: "Let him live!"

"Shut up!" the announcer roared.

"Let him live! Let him live! Let him live!"

A second and third voice erupted from different corners, quickly converging into an overwhelming wave of sound. The faces in the stands, long numb, now flushed crimson, veins bulging as they joined the roar of the crowd.

"Shut up! You despicable things!" The announcer's maggot eyes suddenly burst out with a sharp electric scream.

But this time, instead of subsiding, the voices became more and more intense under the oppression.

"Let him live!"

The entire arena was seething with excitement, regardless of gender, age or status. The audience's cheers swept through every corner like a tsunami, and the announcer's furious roar stirred their blood more than any gladiatorial contest!

Because the exhilarating pleasure gained from watching a high-ranking knight fall from the altar is far better than the pitiful consolation of bullying the weaker ones!

"Stop it, you idiot!"

The announcer's Maggot Eye was about to swoop down to punish Angron, but another Maggot Eye suddenly appeared in front of him. This time, it was not Claudia, but other high-ranking knights.

"Silence!" The Maggot Eye suddenly burst out with a harsh sound.

"Only the champion can decide the fate of the defeated! Tell us, Angron, do you want them to die? Or do you want them to live?"

The roaring noise in the stands gradually died down, and thousands of eyes focused on Angron like spotlights.

"Set them free!"

"free!"

Thunderous cheers erupted from the stands again.

They may not really care about the freedom of the gladiators, but they are already excited.

Every cheer from them was like a slap in the face of the high-ranking knight!

Isn't this more exciting than watching gladiators fight?

The gladiators looked up in confusion. The crowd was cheering for them, but they were clearly not the champions. Why?

"The match ends here!" the high-ranking knight ignored the crowd's cheers. "Today's champion is still Angron. Cheer for him!"

……

"How much did you win this time?" Wop's eyes fell on the gold coins that Claudia was playing with.

Claudia covered her lips with a chuckle. "It's still a thousand to one. Those arrogant fools never learn their lesson."

"Just like last time, I bought those slaves too, still in the same manor."

Angron: "Thank you, Sister Claudia."

"Call mom!"

Claudia twisted her slender fingers, pinched Angron's cheeks and pulled them apart, deforming his small face.

Wop: "This is the first time I've seen a woman actively ask others to call her old."

Claudia's eyes arched slightly upwards, and she squinted at him like a noble Persian cat. "It's different. I just love being his mother."

Wop: "Next time I'll introduce you to Neos, but he may not like you."

The old man had lived for tens of thousands of years, and he'd probably seen all sorts of women. He'd even visited every brothel in Comoros. Plus, he was committed to the revival of humanity, so he might not have considered Claudia.

"No." Claudia snorted softly and wrapped her arms tightly around Wop's arm. "I only want you. I don't believe you have no heart."

"It's useless if you don't believe me."

"How do you know if you don't try?" Claudia leaned in Wop's arms, her eyes and eyebrows curved with joy, like a cat that had stolen some fish.

Isn't that what all men are like?

Even if the bottom is hard, the mouth is also hard.

Even if the bottom is soft, the mouth is still hard.

"Big brother, look."

Mira flew into Wop's arms like a cheerful little bird, her hands raised high. A glittering dragon of light suddenly took shape as spiritual energy flowed through her palms. It swirled lightly around the girl's fingertips, reflecting a rainbow-like halo.

"Mira is amazing." Wop's palm gently fell on the top of the girl's head.

He had to follow Angron at all times, and although he would teach Mira how to control her psychic powers, it was usually Ainor who took care of her.

It's not surprising that Ainol is also a psychic.

It is not surprising that the powerful and wealthy like to keep psychics. After all, this kind of power can save lives at critical moments and is also convenient for killing people in normal times.

Wop was not worried that Enol would teach her the wrong thing, because no matter what Mira learned, she would tell Wop.

Besides, Wop had already confirmed that there was no sign of corruption on Ainor, and in front of Angron, neither Claudia nor Ainor could hide.

"Yes, our Mila is really amazing!" Claudia smiled faintly, and her slender fingers gently pressed against Mia's shoulders, pushing her half an inch away without leaving a trace.

The gesture was like brushing off the dewdrops on the petals, gentle yet irresistible.

"It seems that Enol has taught you very well."

Claudia glanced casually in the direction of Ainol.

At that moment, the maid felt as if she had fallen into an icy cave, her back tensed, and even her breathing stagnated - like a prey targeted by a snake, even the courage to escape was crushed.

"From today on," Claudia lifted the maid's chin with her fingertips, the jeweled ring casting a faint blue light on the girl's pale face, "Ainol will take care of you exclusively. She's yours."

"Really?" Mira was surprised. She was still struggling with whether to agree to Sister Enol. She was going to tell Wop first and then listen to Wop's decision. As a result, Sister Claudia actually said directly that she wanted Sister Enol to take care of her. Is this a prophetic thought?

Claudia playfully pinched Ainol's cheek, her red lips curled up in a teasing arc. "Of course it's true. You can ask Angron. I never lie."

Angron nodded. Although Claudia loved to act, she was not a liar.

Claudia patted Enor's cheek and hummed an unknown ballad softly, and the maid's face became paler and paler.

Claudia didn't use any special tricks. She was their master, and the maid's deliberately slow pace, trembling fingertips and wandering eyes were as clear and readable as an open book.

In her eyes, those little tricks were like a child's clumsy game of hide-and-seek, and even exposing them was boring.

Claudia returned to Wop's side and whispered a soft, silken whisper in his ear, "The High Knights' patience is limited. They will not allow Angron to continue breaking the rules. In his next duel, he will no longer face gladiators, but ferocious monsters and beastmen."

Only one of the monsters and humans can win, and no matter who wins, the audience will have a great time.

If Angron tried to show the same mercy he had shown the gladiators, the audience would no longer sympathize with him.

Although the high-ranking knights did not regard the gladiators as human beings, the audience still had empathy for these slaves who looked similar in appearance, but it was completely different for those inhuman monsters.

"My goal has been achieved," Angron said. "The gladiators will revolt, but we can't just be the gladiators. Otherwise, we will be isolated and helpless and will be suppressed sooner or later. We need the support of the people."

Angron had learned from Wop another tragic story of his life, another story where the most important reason for his failure was not the Butcher's Nails, but the people.

The people had never been on his side, and it was impossible for his fellow gladiators to fight the world alone.

He didn't even see who his enemy was, and stubbornly regarded everyone except the gladiators as enemies.

Even if he had not been nailed to the butcher's nails, the uprising would have failed.

They were like two sides of a coin, but Angron would never become him.

Because Angron had Wop, and he didn't.

Today, for the first time, the common people rebelled against the majesty of the high knights.

Even if the spark is dim, even if the shout is extinguished in an instant, the fire that ignited the prairie has already been buried deep.

They were like Angrons who had been nailed to the butcher's nails, silent and furious, yet still waiting weakly - waiting for a Horus to lead them to raise the banner of rebellion and tear apart this long night.

Chapter 91 Liberator (5K)

In the pre-dawn darkness, Angron faced the gate.

Not every duel is a death match. Although the high-ranking knights are ruthless, they must maintain a sufficient number of gladiators to continue to satisfy the audience's bloodthirsty carnival.

Therefore, most matches end with the other side surrendering.

Angron is the only exception in the arena. Every fight of his ends in death. High-ranking knights carefully weave death, but Angron can always reverse life and death.

"You..." A gladiator raised his hands timidly, "We are not enemies, not this time."

Angron: "I am Angron."

"Lian." The gladiator's tense shoulders visibly sank when he heard him introduce himself. "I've heard of you. You saved many people. Thank you."

Angron stared at the other man's clumsy lips and suddenly said, "I have a brother named Ryan."

Ryan: "Really? What does he look like?"

"Taller, stronger, and more powerful than you."

"Really?" Ryan touched the scar on his face. "I hope he's not a slave."

His tense nerves gradually relaxed, and Ryan grabbed a spear and asked, "Do you know who our enemy is this time?"

"Maybe it's beastmen." The other gladiators also joined the discussion.

"That's what happened last time. A dozen gladiators faced two beastmen, and only a third of them survived."

"Perhaps even more dangerous. We all know the High Knight wants him dead."

The gladiators fell silent again, unsure whether being assigned to fight in the same duel with Angron was a blessing or a curse.