Young won.
Each and every soldier and all the eight slaves won their fights.
Young fell on the ground face first, panting. The ground never felt more comfortable to him.
But amidst this joyful situation, everyone was tense.
Cupid was the only one who was relieved as Young was alive. That was all that mattered.
But why was everyone else tense?
Pablo knew about it and before he could speak, some people came forward on their own.
They were Nike, Snow and Flashy.
Nike had retracted his sword and stored it inside its scabbard tied around his waist.
The two slaves had their heads hung low but Flashy was standing straight.
Pablo ignored Flashy and addressed Nike and Snow.
"Speak."
Nike and Snow looked up and Nike did the talking.
"I am sorry I interfered with the fight, sir. I know you wanted Young to figure it out himself but I interfered. Forgive me."
Snow said the same thing after Nike and went silent.
"Hmm." Pablo remained seated cross-legged. "Why did you interfere?"
