Chapter 244

"You can call me Abe, or any other name you like, but everyone here calls me Old Man—as you can see, I'm the oldest gladiator here."

An old man in a silver robe sat outside Thor's cell; he was a Sakaarian, his entire skin glowing red, but age had shriveled his body into a withered husk, as if he'd become a different species.

"You're the new recruit the Prince took notice of, so I came to explain the rules of Sakaar's gladiatorial combat…" The old man named Abe held a long spear in his arms; though aged, his speech remained clear, though his jaws trembled slightly, as if lacking conviction.

Thor, chained to the dungeon wall, rolled his cloudy eyes toward the old man and asked in a hoarse voice: "They captured another Asgardian… who is he?"

Abe shook his head and spoke to himself: "On the day you fight, you'll put on your clothes, then your assigned armor and helmet, and take up your weapon—this is your weapon. Should I introduce it to you?"

Abe displayed the spear he held to Thor, who stared at it, his face twisting into a faint sneer—his facial muscles, unused for so long, were stiff.

Thor's cheeks had sunk completely inward, his eyes deeply sunken into their sockets; he no longer resembled the valiant, mighty Prince of Asgard, but looked like a prisoner who'd spent years locked away.

Yet after a flicker of spirit returned to his eyes, a sharper, more piercing aura emerged from him, making every expression he made strikingly noticeable. Abe saw his look and said: "I've only heard of the Aesir from others—they say you're born with immense power. Then show me your true strength. Maybe the Prince will spare you."

"That man is your prince?" Thor asked. "What's his name?"

At the mention of Prince Yashan, Abe trembled, then said: "How could I dare speak the Prince's sacred name? He is the most revered prince of Sakaar, the Emperor's favorite youngest son, the future ruler of Sakaar…"

"... ou… cough… why do you revere him so much?"

"Because he is the most respected prince of Sakaar…"

Abe merely repeated the same words over and over, as if reciting a memorized text. After a while, he rose shakily, dropped the spear in front of Thor's cell, and said: "Soon, the Prince will have you taken out to fight one of his fierce gladiators. Remember—put on your clothes and armor, take up your weapon…"

Saying this, he shuffled away, bent over. Not long after, Sakaarian guards entered the dungeon, opened Thor's cell door, unlocked his wrist shackles, and dragged him outside.

Beyond the dungeon lay a modest training yard, where Prince Yashan stood at its center, watching two powerful aliens fighting before him.

Seeing Thor approach, he smiled. He was in high spirits and eager to talk. He waved his hand, signaling his subordinates to release Thor—but left his handcuffs and leg irons intact, ordering him to stand where he was. Prince Yashan turned and asked: "What do you think of them? How do they compare to your Asgardian warriors?"

Thor said nothing. His frame was gaunt, his face haggard, expressionless. Prince Yashan's expression darkened. "Aesir, drop your arrogance. You're nothing but trash discarded by your own people. You're no different from them—you're my slave now!"

"You said you captured another Asgardian—who is he?" Thor's eyes locked onto Prince Yashan, sharp as blades—a quality never before seen in Thor.

Formerly, Thor, like most Asgardians, bore a resolute, martial bearing. Now, he had transformed from a blunt mace into a razor-edged spear.

Prince Yashan, meeting his gaze, instinctively stepped back half a pace—then, realizing his reaction, flushed with rage and ordered the guards to lash Thor hard.

The guards forced Thor to kneel by pressing on his shoulders. Prince Yashan loomed over him: "Don't look at me like that, you damned trash! I am the heir to Sakaar's throne, the most noble prince!"

Thor lowered his gaze. Prince Yashan thought he was cowed, about to smirk in triumph—when Thor spoke in a hoarse voice: "Now I understand how absurd my past actions were."

"Just like you now—perhaps, to some higher being, I too was once just a savage fool brawling in an ant hill…"

Prince Yashan didn't grasp his meaning, but he caught the mockery in Thor's tone. He stepped forward and kicked Thor hard, sending him sprawling. "You think you're noble? Aesir? This is Sakaar—not your playground!"

"If you had any real strength, would you be in this pitiful state? Behave yourself in the upcoming fights—or else…"

He turned to the two battling aliens. One had already fallen, pinned beneath the other, who was beating him. Prince Yashan scowled, gestured to his men to separate them, then ordered them to drag the loser forward.

The fallen alien had purple skin and four arms. Thor recognized him as a native of the Horn Star System. Prince Yashan took a spear from a subordinate, then ordered the guards to pin the powerful Horn Star warrior to the ground.

The Horn Star warrior's face twisted in terror and despair. As Prince Yashan raised the spear, his eyes burned with hatred, and he screamed in his native tongue: "You vile worm! The flames will burn you to ash!... Aaaah!!!"

The spear pierced his body, blood spattering across Thor's face. He remained expressionless, head bowed, golden hair falling over his shoulders. The piercing aura grew harder to conceal—even from several paces away, it felt sharp enough to cut.

Prince Yashan raised the bloodied spear high. His subordinates howled in wild praise, calling him the most revered heir of Sakaar. Thor knelt nearby, silent.

"Look, Aesir—you, trash cast out by your own people, will never earn the respect and worship I command!"