The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1138: Epilogue 21 - The United Republic Of Viritoginy (3)

I watched as Ouroboros descended upon the gladiators, one after another, like a living catastrophe made of scales, teeth, and endless hunger. Every single one of them was shaking, their weapons trembling in their hands, knees buckling before they could even think of running. Fear had already hollowed them out. They didn’t get the chance to scream properly, didn’t get the chance to fight back, didn’t even get the dignity of a final stand. The moment Ouroboros moved, they were gone—snatched up, crushed, swallowed whole as if they were nothing more than scraps tossed into a pit.

As the monster feasted, massive metallic rebars slammed down with a deafening clang. Thick. Heavy. Reinforced. They sealed off every opening that connected the arena to the spectator stands. It was done instantly, flawlessly, as if rehearsed countless times. The intent was obvious: no matter how wild Ouroboros became, it would not reach the audience.

There were far too many important people seated here. Nobles. Sponsors. Influencers. Figures whose deaths would cause inconvenience, chaos, and unnecessary complications. Naturally, I couldn’t let them die. It only made sense to protect them.

Not that I cared.

Honestly, their lives meant nothing to me. They were tools, parasites clinging to power, trying to leech off my influence for their own benefit. But then again, I was doing the exact same thing to them. A mutual transaction. Hypocritical, maybe, but effective. And as long as they still had value, I wasn’t about to let them be torn apart by a monster in front of everyone. Their deaths would be wasteful. Premature.

Below us, Ouroboros continued its slaughter. It didn’t pause. It didn’t hesitate. It didn’t discriminate. Armor, flesh, bone—none of it mattered. The moment something moved, the beast reacted. A snap of its jaws, a violent twist of its massive body, and another gladiator vanished. Blood splattered across the arena floor, staining the sand dark and wet. Steel clanged uselessly as weapons slipped from dying hands.

It was a massacre.

For the gladiators, it was hell made real.

For us?

It was entertainment.

"Fufufufu! Eat them all, Ouroboros!" I laughed, my lips curling upward as excitement buzzed through me. "Stuff yourself! Don’t leave a single one! There’ll be plenty more where that came from!"

The sound of my laughter blended with the screams below, with the crunch of bones and the wet, awful noises of something far too big enjoying its meal.

"You really love this spectacle, don’t you, Emperor Carl?" James said beside me.

I didn’t even look at him at first. My eyes were glued to the arena, to the way Ouroboros moved with terrifying efficiency.

"Well," I said eventually, "this isn’t exactly something you expect to see in your lifetime. Finding something like this feels like a blessing, really. It’s... fascinating." I tilted my head slightly. "Think about it. Where else would you see something like this? In your entire life, you probably wouldn’t witness people getting slaughtered on a daily basis by a monster like that. It’s rare. Special."

"It certainly is a spectacle," James replied.

But even without looking at him, I could tell. He wasn’t impressed. Not excited. Not disturbed, either.

"So?" I asked, finally glancing his way. "Does this bore you?"

"It’s not that," he said calmly. "I’m not bored by the sight of people being slaughtered. It is interesting, and I do find it entertaining in its own way." He paused. "But human lives are far too disposable. That’s what disappoints me. I’ve seen it too many times. I’ve grown numb to it."

He kept staring down at the colosseum as he spoke. His eyes were cold. Empty. Like there was nothing behind them—no excitement, no disgust, no pity. Just observation.

Honestly, if someone told me he’d been born without the ability to feel things properly, I would’ve believed it. That was how unsettling he was. A man who could witness mass death and feel absolutely nothing.

"By the way," he continued, as if the slaughter below was nothing more than background noise, "have you heard the news?"

"About what?" I asked.

"The establishment of a new country."

"Ah. That," I said. "Leonora mentioned it to me once. She said the slaves—or rather, the ones who were supposed to become slaves—banded together and formed a nation of their own. Elves, Dwarves, Beastkin, all of them teaming up so they could defend themselves against me and my power." I scoffed. "Do they really think they can just huddle together like that and escape my grasp? How naïve. They have no idea how vast my power truly is."

"You shouldn’t underestimate them," James replied. "If you plan to invade their land, you’ll need to think carefully. With their current alliances, they might be your equal. Possibly even stronger."

I didn’t respond immediately, so he continued.

"They have the Elves, masters of magic. The Dwarves, unmatched in craftsmanship and innovation. Centaurs with incredible speed. Beastkin with raw strength and agility. Titans whose sheer power can crush armies. With all of them united, it’s only natural to be cautious. You, of all people, should understand that."

I clenched my jaw slightly. Annoying as it was, he wasn’t wrong.

The reason that country existed was obvious. They feared the Empire. They feared me. They feared my armor. And honestly? That fear was justified.

Still, fear alone wouldn’t save them.

"Give it a few years," James said, his voice steady. "With enough preparation, and with me helping you plan, we can dominate that forest completely. When that happens, you’ll stand at the top of this world. The man who conquered it. The one who forced everything into submission."

My heartbeat quickened at his words. The image formed clearly in my mind.

"That’s right," I said, my voice rising as exhilaration took hold. "This world is mine for the taking. Land. Money. Women. Power. Everything will be mine!"

Below us, the final gladiator disappeared into Ouroboros’s jaws.

The beast let out a low, satisfied rumble as it licked its lips, its massive tongue dragging across blood-stained scales. And yet, even then, it didn’t look satisfied. Not truly. Its eyes still burned with hunger.

"Bring in the next batch!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the stands. "Let Ouroboros feed!"