Tragic Beauty of Our Existence

Dea hovers in deliberation, its optical sensors blinking like momentary stars in the daytime sky. "Master, you have two choices. First, you may execute him now, and I assure you I will not interfere. Second, considering you're building a colosseum, we do require slaves to fight beasts and meet their end in such manner. We could use all these people here for that purpose."

From the crowd, a group of five individuals step forward. Their faces are contorted in sinister grins, sending a chill down the spines of those who catch their gaze. "We can manage the slaves effectively," one of them sneers. "We are from 'Freedom,' our leader says we can take slaves for free."