The moment of his triumph, the thousands of cheers bursting from the countless seats, his opponent's body lying on the ground slowly dying from blood loss, while he was showered in glory.
Zaroth had never really cared about the public opinion or how the normal people perceived him.
But in that brief moment that didn't last more than a few seconds, he felt like he was on top of the whole world.
Who could have imagined that he would reach this kind of popularity? Him, a street kid that had spent more than a decade looking after his cursed mother.
He knew that he was fortunate to be in this position, many would even kill to be in his position.
And yet… he felt it deep in his heart, deep in his soul. He wanted more, he desired so much more.
And he would take it, as his greed knew no bounds.
His dream was interrupted as a feeling of unpleasant scent hit his nostrils. Zaroth grunted and slowly opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was that he was in a white room.
