The Earth After Rebirth

Gilbert watched this spectacle with a very bored uninterested expression. A drink in his hand, a countless empty and full bottles on the table. This was the VIP box that was only privy to him and whoever he deemed worthy to be up there with him at the time.

But he didn't feel like he wanted company these past days, so he sat there alone, drinking and watching the bloodbaths happening beneath where he was sitting.

Both the exterior and interior were made of hard beautiful glass. One that let those inside see what was happening, but those outside couldn't see anything, not even a silhouette moving about inside.

Trent stood by the door, formally like a butler should. Though his face was conflicted, he didn't know whether to say something or not. He remembered how exciting his young self was when his father took him to this place.

But his love for it slowly faded away as the years went by. He only realised too late that he did these things and enjoyed them because his father told him to.

He was the same for his son until a certain point, that's why he told him what he did. To hopefully push him far away from the family business, he now even regretted taking in more woman to have more children.

It was too late for him, but there was no need to rope in any more of his kids to this kind of life. He sighed deeply, thinking about what his next move should be.

The Waynworths, as much as they were a thorn on the side for him, they were now akin to his arch nemesis. He had to strike back, otherwise he would lose much respect in their society if some unknown clan could walk all over him with not much consequences.

This good for nothing clan had forced his hand into acknowledging them as worthy foes. He knew that there wasn't enough space to breathe at the top for the both of them, he needed to act, but he just didn't have any idea how to.

There was one other option he didn't want to consider. Offer them a seat at the table so that they're part of the sanctum, but it had never been done before. It's always been generational, no clan has ever join since its conception.

His eye caught the gladiator crunching the kid's skull, making his brains splatter all over the stone floor. This made him flinch but only slightly.

Even though the lights were dimmed in the room they were in, Trent noticed it every time when his expressions shifted. His reactions weren't of someone who was enjoying what they were watching.

"Sir, if I may be so bold as to step out of line, it has been close to a week and you haven't gone home, don't you think we should?" As he asked, he stepped closer to his master.

Gilbert simply grunted at his question, like it was a stab on the leg. He didn't like others analysing his emotions, he hated it even more when he was told what to do. He prided on the fact that he could hide what he was feeling very well, but it seemed that he slipped once in a while in front of Trent. Or it was the simple fact that he knew him very well.

Trent could sense his hostility but he pressed even further, "Sir, you don't even like this ring why do you even bother coming back? I know for a fact Mr. Black would gladly take it off your hands."

His anger flared, but he quickly took control of it. He took a gulp of the drink that was half full, and tossed it on the floor. It didn't break, it simply bounced and landed far from where he was seated. It landed by the door.

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"Go pick that up." He ordered, with a very unfriendly voice.

Trent gladly walked up to the glass, he had just picked it up when he heard his master tell him.

"Stay right there and keep your mouth shut."

He didn't know either, he didn't know why he kept this place running. But it was instilled in him that, what was important to his father, was important to him. So this place, must've been important to him, somehow.

"Master, I'll gladly take my punishment for my insolence. But I cannot watch you waste yourself away like this. You haven't gone home in about a week, surely that cannot be good for you or your health?" Trent continued to press on.

He'd watched this kid grow, he understood his bad ways. But he wasn't willing to watch him throw away everything. Good or bad, this was still his master. But if he lost both, what would he be?

"Trent, I'm not going to tell you again—"

He hadn't finished his words when he noticed a fiery defiance in Trent's eyes. He clearly wouldn't let this go, he could feel that he was slipping by being at this place for so long. Hell, he could feel it too.

"The estate doesn't need me, they're doing just fine by themselves. Can't I just, rot here? It seems fitting." He let out a sigh that he finally said what he wanted to say.

"That's not true, Master. You're the head of the estate and it still needs you. The Blakeson name must live on. If you want to change things about how you operate, you don't need to stop and think.

"I'll follow you to the ends of this world. I'll pick up the pieces and glue them back on if I have to. I'm just a simple loyal man, loyal to you and the Blakeson name. So please Sir, don't let this beautiful clan die with you." He finished so gracefully, he had his head slightly bowed as he said.

Gilbert let out a sad small laugh. He didn't know where his father got this man from, but he was about the only right thing he'd ever left for him. He felt glad to have had him by his side all this time.

He'd been a strong anchor for him, even when he didn't know it. He'd never once judged him for his evil ways, instead he followed and did as he was told.

He got up from his chair, feeling a little dizzy. He stumbled a bit before finding his feet.

"Let's go home Sir." Trent said, with his jacket already on his arms.

Gilbert nodded.