Kapitel 103: End of Batlle Royale [part 2]
**This chapter is only for readers 18+ and contains disturbing scenes. Please read it at your own risk.**
**A Silent Triumph**
The night had fully settled over me, a cloak of darkness that enveloped the arena in deafening silence.
Every shadow seemed like an echo of the lives I had extinguished, a reflection of the souls I had torn from their fragile mortal shells.
I remained there, alone, contemplating the work I had created, a macabre painting of bodies and blood, framed by the walls of the Colosseum.
There had been no doubt, no hesitation in what I had done.
Every strike, every stifled scream, had been a step towards absolute dominance.
And now, as my breath merged with the silence of the night, I knew I had achieved my goal.
I had destroyed everything that opposed me, and I had claimed my place above everything and everyone.
The blood that covered my body had cooled, like the life I had taken from my opponents.
But inside me, a dark fire still burned, a flame that would not be easily extinguished.
Victory was mine, but with it came a deeper desire, a thirst that could not be quenched by that massacre alone.
Every step I took as I left the arena resonated like a funeral drum, a slow march that carried me away from that battlefield, away from the corpses that lay like trophies.
But I knew that this triumph, however total, was not the end.
It was only the beginning of something greater, something I couldn't yet define but that called to me from the darkness.
**Exiting the Arena**
I let my sword fall into the blood-soaked sand, a symbolic gesture marking the end of that chapter.
The crowd continued to cheer, but those voices were a distant buzz, insignificant compared to my awareness.
I had won, but the real battle was still within me, an endless struggle against a hunger that could not be satisfied.
With one last look at the arena, at the bodies I had left behind, I turned and began to walk towards the exit.
Every step was light, not because I wasn't tired, but because I thought I had done a good job.
The arena doors opened before me, and I could finally enter the outer hall, where the nanny was waiting for me.
**Flashback of the Nanny: The Bet and the Reaction**
As the crowd gathered in the Ryushin Colosseum, amidst shouts and fervent bets, the nanny moved with the calm of someone who had already seen the end of the game.
She had always had an infallible instinct, a sixth sense that allowed her to foresee the outcome of events even before they fully unfolded.
And that day was no different.
The Battle Royale had begun with chaotic fury, but the nanny knew, she knew that her champion would emerge victorious.
Seated in her elevated post, far from the frenzy of the plebs but with a perfect view of the arena, she had placed a silent bet, a wager that wasn't just about money.
For her, Ragnarok's victory was an affirmation of the power she had helped forge, a confirmation of the unbreakable bond that united them, even if he didn't know it.
As she watched the first blows land in the arena, her mind returned to that moment, to the coldness with which she had counted the coins, each bet a hidden prayer for his success.
But it wasn't about the money. No, for the nanny, it was about much more. It was about control, about dominating fate through Ragnarok, her creation, her masterpiece.
When the battle intensified, the nanny never looked away.
She saw every move, every strategy unfold, every opponent fall under Ragnarok's unstoppable fury.
And every time blood splattered on the sand, every time an opponent screamed in agony, the nanny felt closer to her goal.
It was as if every sword strike, every scream, was a blow to her heart, a sign that her plan was working perfectly.
**The End of the Battle**
When the massacre was complete and Ragnarok was the last one standing, the nanny didn't move.
Her face was a mask of impenetrable calm, but inside her, the ice melted for a moment, making way for a warmer emotion, almost... pride.
Not because Ragnarok had won—it had always been expected.
But because he had done it with a brutality that exceeded even her darkest expectations.
Every detail, every move, had been executed with icy precision; every life taken was a tribute to the power they had built together.
When the arena doors opened to let him out, the nanny slowly stood up.
**The Meeting in the Outer Hall**
As the arena doors closed behind me, the roar of the crowd faded, replaced by a heavy, dense silence.
The outer hall was a place of transition, a passage between the chaos of battle and the calm after the storm.
And there she waited for me, as still as a statue, but with a gaze that reflected much more than she would ever admit.
Our eyes met. In hers, I saw a mix of pride and calculated coldness, a mutual understanding that required no words.
She had predicted everything, every blow, every scream, every fall.
She hadn't bet on me by chance, but with a certainty rooted in years of experience and manipulation.
But behind that veil of calm, I also sensed something else, something that was beginning to take shape: a slight concern.
"Well done," she whispered with a tone that betrayed a barely perceptible emotion.
I approached her and replied with a neutral tone, "Thank you very much."
**Flashback of the Nanny: The Reactions During the Battle**
**The Start of the Battle**
At the start, the nanny watched the Battle Royale with the cold calm of a general studying a battle already decided.
The first moments were chaotic, but she never took her eyes off Ragnarok.
Every move of his was anticipated, every strike calculated.
When he plunged his sword into his first opponent, a desperate young man with a short sword and a battered shield, the nanny felt a brief spark of satisfaction.
It was only the beginning, but she already knew the victory would be theirs.
**First Blood**
As the young man collapsed to the ground, life slipping away in a gush of blood, the nanny noticed Ragnarok's morbid attention to the suffering he inflicted.
It wasn't just about winning; it was about destroying, about breaking not only the body but also the soul of his opponents.
His coldness in torturing the young man, in watching him agonize, stirred a feeling of unease in her, an emotion she hadn't felt in a long time.
"He's going beyond," she thought, but did nothing to stop him.
After all, that was the nature she had cultivated in him.
**The Coalition of Enemies**
When the other participants began to band together against Ragnarok, the nanny felt a brief moment of tension.
The ebony-skinned colossus, the woman with the twin swords, even "Serpent" moved as one entity to take down what they saw as their most dangerous opponent.
But the nanny knew it was already too late.
She watched them with a mix of compassion and disdain, knowing their fate was already sealed.
"Do your best," she thought, "but it won't be enough."
**The Final Massacre**
The final massacre was swift and brutal.
The colossus's mace missed its mark, the woman with the twin swords was disarmed with ease, and "Serpent" found himself on his knees, his breath broken.
Every time an opponent fell, the nanny felt proud, not for how they were being fought, but for what she was seeing in Ragnarok.
His coldness, his efficiency despite the lack of foundation, the total absence of mercy were everything she had hoped for, but also something more.
It was something that made her proud.
"He's exceeded my expectations," she thought.
**The Final Comment**
When the last opponent fell to the ground, leaving Ragnarok as the only survivor, the commentator paused, his voice broken by horror and awe.
The words that left his lips were an epitaph for that night of blood, but the nanny paid them no attention.
Her eyes were fixed on Ragnarok, on his chest rising and falling with deep breaths, as if he were absorbing every single fragment of dark energy from the arena.
She watched him with icy calm, but inside, she felt an emotion she rarely allowed herself to feel: pride.
Not just because he had won, but because he had done it in a way that exceeded her darkest expectations.
Every life taken, every scream of agony that echoed in the air, was a triumph not only for Ragnarok but for herself as well.
**BEFORE THE MEETING**
The nanny remained for a few moments longer at her elevated post, observing the now empty arena.
The battlefield was littered with inert bodies, flesh and blood mixed into the sand, a macabre mosaic of the victory just achieved.
The smell of blood permeated the air, a metallic aroma that seemed to intensify with each breath.
Under the impenetrable mask of her calm, a satisfied smile slowly formed on her lips.
It was a vision that gave her a deep sense of fulfillment.
Everything had gone exactly as planned, every piece in place, every life taken a tribute to her meticulous planning and Ragnarok's lethal efficiency.
He hadn't just defeated his opponents; he had annihilated them, turning the arena into a graveyard, just as she had always known he would.
The commentator had called it a massacre, an execution, but for the nanny, it was much more.
She smiled, satisfied, as she stepped away from the parapet to descend the stairs that would lead her to the outer hall.
Her steps were slow, deliberate, the sound of her boots echoing in the deserted corridors the only noise accompanying her descent.
When she reached the outer hall, the nanny paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening the door.
**RETURNING TO THE PRESENT**
When the arena doors closed behind me and I found myself face to face with the nanny, the silence became even denser, almost palpable.
Our eyes met, and in that brief instant, everything that had happened in the arena seemed to be summed up in that gaze.
"Well done," she whispered, her voice barely audible, laden with an emotion that, though concealed, betrayed a subtle trace of pride and concern.
I approached her and replied with the same neutrality I had always maintained:
"Thank you very much."
And in that moment, even though the words were few and simple, we both knew that a new phase had begun.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein