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

On the one hand, they had an instinctive liking for the boy.

Because he was clearly not a slave, yet he participated in gladiatorial contests as a free man time and time again, and even saved many people.

He has participated in very few competitions, but has never lost a single one, and every time he participates, it is a death race.

Meeting the boy was like catching a glimpse of an oasis in a sandstorm, but what lay ahead was a bloody vortex that would terrify even the most experienced gladiators.

"How many people will die this time?" a girl murmured to herself.

"No one will die, believe me." Angron placed his palm lightly on the girl's trembling shoulder. His voice was like tempered steel, resounding in the blood-filled air.

Ryan: "No matter who the enemy is, we will follow your command."

The other gladiators also nodded. If they wanted to survive, they could only trust Angron.

"Crack!"

The door slowly opened until the first ray of light seeped in from the crack.

Angron once again set foot on the blood-red sand and participated in this bloody competition with a dozen gladiators.

But this time their enemy was neither a beastman nor a ferocious beast, but a skinny, half-naked woman.

Even the youngest gladiator could easily defeat him, but high-ranking knights never arranged duels with a huge disparity, because a large disparity also meant that the game was not exciting enough.

Angron looked down at her throat, where the humming metal collar was fastened around her neck.

It was a collar used by high-ranking knights to imprison and torture psychics. Like the Maggot Eye, it was a gift from the Dark Age of Technology.

She is a psyker.

With just these three words, that woman has the power to slaughter all the gladiators!

"Stand back and spread out!" Angron shouted to the others.

The gladiators had chosen to follow his command, and now they were executing it without any delay.

Their backs were pressed against the hot walls of the arena, and in the center, only the sound of Angron's footsteps dragging long tracks in the sand, one step at a time, pressing towards the trembling woman.

"Calm down, I'm here to help you."

Angron's pupils reflected the woman's face, twisted in pain.

But she was just like all the other gladiators in the arena; she had been captured by the high-ranking knights and thrown here for their amusement like everyone else.

Whether it is gladiators killing psychics or psychics slaughtering gladiators, it can bring the ultimate sensory experience.

She didn't want to hurt anyone, but the collar around her neck was whipping her every moment, and she could only be free from pain by killing the gladiator in front of her.

"Don't be afraid, for I am here." Angron used his power to influence the woman, his expression contorted by the pain he absorbed.

"Control it, control your power, and don't hurt anyone again!"

Each step Angron took left a hard mark on the sand. The woman's face gradually relaxed, and the collar around her neck vibrated faster and faster, and all the pain was transferred to Angron without a trace.

"It's okay now, you're safe."

Angron grasped the woman's shaky body, his free hand gripping the vibrating collar.

As sparks burst from between his fingers, the collar's shell twisted and deformed in his palm, emitting a dying wail.

The flying metal fragments burned marks on the sand, and for the first time, free air rushed into the woman's throat.

"Go to sleep."

Angron closed her eyes and forced her into a deep sleep. She was too tired, the pain had consumed her.

"You must kill her. This is a death match. You have tarnished the sacred duel!"

Angron slowly raised his head, his pupils reflecting the suspended maggot eye, ignoring the announcer's roar.

Only this time, the crowd didn't cheer for Angron.

He saved everyone again, but among the people he saved was a witch who brought disaster!

For thousands of years, the notoriety of witches has been ingrained in their bones. They are the source of plague, the curse of famine, and the nightmare of babies crying at night. But why did Angron save her?

Could it be that he is also a wizard?

Once doubt arises, it will take root and sprout in the heart like a seed.

Angron understood the silence, but he had no regrets.

"We are all human, sharing the same genes. Why should we be divided into high and low?" Angron's voice was low and steady, like the calm sea before a storm. "Who divides us into different classes? Who makes the rules? Who tells you to hate witches and oppress slaves?"

The silence in the arena was as heavy as lead, and every evasive look was a silent cry. Those tightly pursed lips and drooping eyelashes all told a tacit truth:

It was the high-ranking knights who forged the rules with an iron fist, it was they who carved the strict hierarchy into everyone's bones, and it was they who turned the screams of slaves and the wails of witches into entertainment to please the audience.

"You have beheld a cruel witch," Angron's voice echoed through the arena, each syllable piercing the hypocritical silence like a sword. "Tell me, then, where is her cruelty etched? Is it in her tortured body, in the collar that torments her, or in this arena itself?"

"Who did she kill? The children huddled in the dark corners of the slums, gnawed by hunger until they were reduced to dry bones? The miners buried deep in the mines, deprived of even a simple tombstone? Or the gladiators in this blood-soaked arena, tortured to death in the name of entertainment?"

"Please tell me, where is the victim?"

"Shut up! You win, shut up!"

As the last word fell, the huge arena became increasingly silent, leaving only the deafening roar of the announcer.

The Maggot Eye emitted a piercing buzzing sound and swooped down like a vulture. However, before it could unleash its high-voltage current, Angron grabbed it and slammed it to the sand.

"Angron!" Ryan threw his spear, and the moment Angron caught it steadily, it turned into a bolt of lightning, piercing through the core of the Maggot Eye with a sharp scream of metal tearing.

The tip of the spear sank deep into the sand, nailing the still sparking drone to the hot red sand like a specimen.

"I saw no cruel witch!" Angron's voice broke like thunder. "I saw only a woman, emaciated and covered in wounds. Whose wife is she, longing for her day and night? Whose mother is she, calling for her nightly? Whose daughter, tortured to the point of being emaciated?"

People seemed to be strangled by the throat, and even swallowing became a sin.

The long silence was as heavy as a lead block, and only the sun nailed those shadows that had nowhere to go to the wall, twisting them like tortured souls.

More than a dozen Maggot Eyes swooped down on Angron like venomous snakes, but Claudia's Maggot Eyes blocked their path like an iron curtain. "Game over, Angron. That's enough. Time to go home."

Angron retreated slowly. He had already stirred the people's anger; now he only needed to wait for the right moment to ignite it.

……

"Claudia, you must restrain your pet!"

The Maggot Eye roars in the palace of Octavia's family.

Claudia raised the corner of her mouth in a playful arc. "But he's just a child. Are you afraid of a child?"

Turk: "Octavia, do you know what he's doing?"

"It's just an ignorant child chasing his childish fantasies." Claudia fiddled with the ends of her hair lazily. Between her slender fingers, a gold coin was flipping and dancing with the touch of her fingertips, drawing tiny golden arcs in the candlelight.

The announcer yelled in a strange tone: "Ignorance? He is threatening our rule!"

"For thousands of years, this world has been under our rule." Claudia tapped the throne's armrests with her fingertips. "If we can be threatened so easily, it would be a disgrace to our dignity."

"Although I don't think he's qualified to threaten our rule," Turk's maggot eyes tilted downwards. "But if we continue to let him do this, those fools might cause a major riot under his instigation. Are you sure you want to continue?"

"Don't you think this is amusing?" Claudia stroked her red lips with her fingertips. "I'm tired of boring gladiatorial contests in the arena. Only real war, watching ants trying to shake giant trees, is a worthy entertainment for us."

Announcer: "Do you know that many people will die like this?"

"You are the master of the arena. When did you care about the lives of civilians?"

"Of course I don't care about those untouchables, but we are in danger too!"

"Chuckles," Claudia's mechanical wings gracefully unfolded, her voice tinged with lazy teasing. "So you're afraid of death. I almost thought you cared about civilians."

The announcer angrily asked, "What qualifications do you have to blame me? Didn't you plan this game?"

"I think this new game is quite interesting," another Maggot Eye whispered. "The vulgar performances in the arena can only please the untouchables, but should our tastes also be reduced to the same level as theirs?"

The other Maggot Eyes also echoed, "Those untouchables are becoming increasingly restless. How about using this game to make them behave a little more?"

"The towering tree of rule needs to be pruned from time to time. If the untouchables voluntarily reveal their restless branches, it will save us the trouble of identifying them."

"It seems that many people are on my side." Claudia raised her red lips slightly, "Turk, what about you?"

Turk sternly warned: "Claudia, don't mess this up. If things get out of control, you will bear all the consequences!"

Claudia lowered her eyes to gaze at the gold coins spinning between her fingers, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I'm sitting at the gambling table with the rose and the urn. I'm either going to win big or I'm going to die."

……

“You are truly so high and mighty.” Angron lowered his eyes.

"High-ranking knights have always been like this," Claudia lazily leaned back in her chair. "They've ruled this world for too long. A thousand years of power is enough to dull even the most ardent ambition. Their ease has long since dulled their claws, and they no longer remember the true nature of war."

Wop: "What about you?"

"Honey, we are in the same boat now. You won't kick me off, will you?" Claudia hummed a ballad.

Angron slowly raised his head. "You are wrong, Sister Claudia. This is not war, this is revolution."

Claudia: "If it succeeds, it's a revolution. If it fails, it's a rebellion."

"It doesn't matter, we will win."

Angron was always sure they would win because of Wop.

Even without Claudia's intervention, Nuceria would have been liberated under their leadership, but she did accelerate the process, bringing the day of liberation sooner.

Unlike him and Wop, Claudia is not a liberator. She always looks down on the world as a ruler, but her deeds are completely opposite to her heart.

Angron did not like her heart, but he admitted that her sacrifice was necessary, and he liked her deeds.

A revolution from the bottom up needs to break through thousands of shackles, and a revolution from the top down also needs to cross thousands of barriers.

Only by working together can we overturn the world.

……

"Sister Enol." Mira tugged at the maid's sleeve. "Every time you see Sister Claudia, your fingers tremble quietly. Are you afraid of her?"

"Is it so obvious?" The maid's delicate face was like cracked porcelain, and a fragmented smile appeared on her face.

Mira's innocent question was the best answer. It turned out that her master had already seen everything.

Her master had never been cruel to her, but her suffering had only grown since the day she died.

There was not a single scar on her body, but her soul was already riddled with holes.

The most cruel torture in the world is to remain sane amidst a torrent of madness. She watched everything with cold eyes—the crowds fell amidst cheers, civilization collapsed amidst fanaticism, and she could only stand at the bottom of the abyss, looking up at those who had not yet noticed their fall, slowly falling towards her.

The glory of the past had long since faded, leaving only a patchwork of echoes. Even with a brand new body, her soul was still nailed to the rack of memory, and every breath tore at the thorny past.

If she could also indulge in pleasure in abuse, taste the sweetness of honey in the whip marks, reach the peak of bliss in suffocation, find eternal peace in pain, regard imprisonment as shelter, regard torture as favor, and turn humiliation into grace, perhaps she would not be so afraid of her master, but would regard it as a great honor.

But if she really did so, how could her master have mercy on her and give her a new life?

Her crazy tribesmen are only worse off than her, but at least she can still maintain her mental dignity.

"If Sister Claudia didn't abuse you, why would you be afraid?" Mira tilted her head, her eyes full of confusion, as if asking why flowers have thorns.

"Anyway, thank you for your concern, Mira." The maid's slender fingers ran through the girl's hair, like combing through fragile dreams.

Mira may never understand that kindness is often more terrible than abuse.

Her master frightened her, but he never broke his promise.

The master had given her to Mira, and now Mira was her master.

She had no intention of asking for the attention of the two adults. This was already her best destination.

They are the liberators of all humanity, but only Mira can liberate her.

.........

"My Lord, when will we revolt?"

Little Crest swooped down on Angron on her spear, swerving to a stop beside him and deactivating the spear's anti-gravity device. With a flick of her wrist, the spear drew a perfect arc and plunged into the ground like a flag.

"In the next duel," Angron said. "Ten days from now, no matter who our opponent is, we will rise up."

The old warrior stroked the hilt of his power sword and asked in a hoarse voice, "Will they really help us?"

"Oenomamos, they won't help us, nor will they help the high-ranking knights."

"Then who should they help?" Crest was confused.

Angron: "They will help whoever wins."

Ryan: "How can we win with just the guys like us?"