Lord Kohali received word of Damerius's success managing the Ebeagha Arena, but his response was no more than a disinterested nod.
"Hmph. As long as the troops keep flowing to Meruz and the money keeps coming in, let him be," he muttered while sealing a new ship order in Blacksand.
To Kohali, Damerius's achievements were just numbers in a ledger. He didn't truly grasp the arena's growing influence over the social and economic transformation in Patisia. For him, it was just another tool to expand wealth and control.
But behind the scenes, Damerius was already in motion. Alongside Lord Nicolo, he began building a network of small businesses throughout Patisia. It started quietly—food stalls, fighter training grounds, and small-scale logistic hubs. Everything operated cautiously, knowing that Lord Toish still kept a watchful eye. To Toish, Nicolo was nothing more than a puppet ruler. And Damerius? Just an ex-slave.
One afternoon, in one of the back rooms of the arena, Damerius looked at Nicolo with unwavering seriousness.
"It's time," he said.
Nicolo furrowed his brow. "Time for what?"
"To buy my freedom," Damerius replied calmly. "I've prepared everything. I'll pay for it myself, under my mother's name."
Nicolo fell silent, then nodded. "Are you sure, Rius? You could remain under Kohali's protection. It's safe, comfortable."
"Safety doesn't make a man free," Damerius answered softly, yet firmly.
A few days later, Damerius stood before Lord Kohali in his merchant hall in Blacksand. Before him, he placed a heavy pouch containing 1,500 Wit coins—500 more than the standard price of a slave's release.
Kohali raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You want to be redeemed by Nicolo... and he's overpaying?"
"He didn't want to leave any room for refusal. We're close," Damerius replied flatly—careful not to arouse suspicion about who was truly behind the redemption.
Lord Kohali studied him for a moment, then chuckled. "You really are the smartest slave I've ever owned... But 1,500 Wit? Maybe Nicolo had to sell everything he had for you. Very well, Damerius. You're free."
The freedom decree was handed over to Damerius, sealed with the official sigil of the Empire. His status was now officially free from Kohali.
Shortly after, Damerius arranged for a second decree—this time redeeming himself under his mother Triana's name. That way, in the eyes of imperial law, he was now considered a slave to his own mother—a status that, by default, equaled permanent freedom.
With that, his name changed publicly and permanently to Lord Rius, a free citizen with full rights.
Soon after, the Ebeagha Arena officially changed hands. Nicolo purchased the management rights from Kohali for 500 Wit in a quick, no-questions-asked transaction. What he didn't know was that Damerius had orchestrated the entire deal—ensuring that Nicolo never suspected who really held the reins.
In the imperial currency system of Whiteheaven, the Wit coin was made of pure gold, stamped with the Whiteheaven seal. The En coin, by contrast, was forged from thin iron and circulated among the general populace, marked by a horse emblem. One Wit equaled 10,000 En.
"The arena's yours now," said Damerius, handing Nicolo the official documents. "Use it well."
Nicolo grinned with satisfaction. "I'm finally the rightful owner. Not bad for something they once mocked."
What he didn't know was that the famed 1,000 En reward that drew the crowds had always come from Kohali—repackaged by Damerius to appear as if it came from entrance fees, selection systems, and merchant sponsors.
Revenue didn't come from ticket sales alone. Damerius had created a league system, sold local ticket rights, built fighter armories, and took commissions from trainers he personally hired. All of it operated under his quiet command.
While Nicolo enjoyed the spotlight, unaware of the mind behind the curtain, outside pressures began to mount. Rivals from the Merchant Council started pushing in, demanding their share. Nicolo's influence grew, but his management began to falter.
He began to change. He stopped listening to Damerius. They clashed over profit sharing and the arena's direction.
"This arena's too open!" Nicolo shouted one night. "We need to raise ticket prices. Make it exclusive!"
"Then you're repeating Lord Toish's mistake," Damerius replied coldly. "And that's not the foundation we built."
At last, Damerius made his move.
"I'm stepping away from this partnership," he told Nicolo bluntly.
Nicolo turned sharply. "What are you planning?"
"I want to buy out all our remaining joint ventures," Damerius said. "Three-quarters of their actual value. Today."
Nicolo scoffed. "You think I'll let go that easily?"
Damerius handed him a contract. "Look at the numbers. You might reconsider."
Three days later, every business was legally Damerius's. Nicolo walked away with a fortune, thinking he'd won. But he never realized that every venture he sold would triple in value—because Damerius had already set up a new, more efficient network behind the scenes.
Now Lord Rius stood on the balcony of his new home. In his hand, the freedom papers of his mother. In the distance, the Ebeagha Arena still roared with the cheers of the crowd.
"It's time to go home, Mother," he whispered.
But the wind carried a different message. Lord Toish, disturbed by Nicolo's rapid rise, issued a public challenge: an arena competition. The winner would gain exclusive rights as Patisia's sole arena operator.
"He still thinks Nicolo is the same man," said Damerius, eyeing the challenge letter.
"And us?" asked one of his trusted guards.
"We'll help Nicolo... one last time."
Rius offered a faint smile. In his hand now wasn't just his future—but the future of Patisia itself.
His decision to publicly support Nicolo sent shockwaves through Patisia's ruling elite. News of it spread quickly, sparking waves of speculation and fear. Even Lord Toish—usually calm and arrogant—began to feel the pressure. Damerius's support wasn't just a strategic move; it was a fatal miscalculation on Toish's part. He had assumed Nicolo and Damerius were finished.
"Toish, you've seen it yourself, haven't you?" said his advisor in the western hall. "Nicolo is growing stronger. And Damerius is no longer a mere slave."
Toish clenched the handle of his cup. "He's just a slave who found a stage. Don't make him sound greater than he is."
But further investigation revealed disturbing facts. The connection between Damerius and Nicolo turned out to be a calculated alliance—an old partnership forged to bring Toish down. The revelation that Damerius and Nicolo had once co-managed an arena struck a nerve. The thought that either one—or worse, both—might now be seeking revenge with newfound strength ignited Toish's fury.
What shocked him most, however, came not long after.
Damerius appeared in person at a closed meeting between Nicolo and Toish, bringing with him an unexpected proposal.
"I'll be joining the tournament," Damerius said calmly. "As a third contender."
Toish raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? You're not part of this."
"Exactly," Damerius replied. "If it's just two sides, it's a regular match. But with three powers in the arena, we'll truly discover who's worthy of leading."
Nicolo glanced at Damerius suspiciously. "Is this about revenge?" He had once felt in control, backed by Damerius's financial support—only now, in the final hour, he was being challenged by the very man who helped him rise.
Damerius didn't answer right away. Instead, he gave a slight smile. "I simply want to make sure no one grows too confident... before they've earned the right to be."
They agreed on the format: three factions, each sending their three best fighters. A true Lutador showdown, where the prize wasn't just gold—but territory and influence.
But a new problem quickly surfaced.
"Where's the match going to be held?" Nicolo asked.
"In my arena, obviously," Toish replied immediately.
"Forget it. That's absurd," Nicolo cut him off. "I'm not stepping into your territory for this. This is supposed to be a battle of honor, not a rigged fight."