All language subtitles for Spartacus House of Ashur (2025) S01E06 Empty Things (1080p AMZN Webrip x265 10bit EAC3 5.1 Atmos - Goki)[TAoE]

Begin!

From the savage lands of Kush,
Achillia, the Goddess of Death.

There are none but men
beneath this roof,

and you but stand
the least offensive.

I would see her stand
victorious in the arena,

only to offer fatal blow myself.

I prepare for travel
at break of morning sun.

You remain?

The gods themselves
could not pry me loose.

Seize them!

Cilicians. Your men
nearly had my fucking life.

Yet here you stand.

Was purse not swelled with
coin in return for manoeuvring

Cossutia and her daughter
to appointed time and place?

- A decision now held in regret.
- It is a disappointment

I shall not find you
among my worshippers.

Nor perhaps at all
among the living.

What do I stand towards you?

Yes!

Achillia! Achillia!

Spirit her
to fucking medicus. Go!

She cannot die
on eve of greatest victory!

Is concern for the woman
or your fucking house?

The two stand
entwined, you bearded fuck!

Shhh.

Neferet! Neferet!

The gods bless us with one hand

and ram fist up ass
with the other.

Achillia was not alone in
victory. Tarchon, Celadus--

The crowds did not raise their
names towards the heavens.

They lifted Achillia's.

Our fortune rests
with her and her alone.

- Does she yet draw breath?
- She does.

Yet sundered hand must be
removed before infection sets.

You would see
my champion crippled?

- There is no other path.
- Do I not possess fucking leg

after grievous wound
inflicted by

the fucking Gaul Crixus
in the arena?

The medicus of Batiatus
restored limb,

and here I stand before you.

Then present the man

and see him towards
better result.

He perished during conflict
with mad Thracian.

Carry my greetings.

Argh!

That was ill advised.

We find ourselves
in need of a medicus.

How were relations left
between you and Opiter?

Favorable.

Will she live?

You have shown no concern
towards the Nubian,

yet now it blooms?

Only towards pressing need.

Messages arrive
requesting appearance

of the Goddess of Death.

Who requests her?

Everyone.

- Hmm.
- How shall I reply?

Make no promise towards
her presence, nor condition,

yet sow notion where
she stands immortal

and shall rise
as phoenix upon a day.

And if fabled bird plummets?

Then this house falls with her.

Apologies.

I did not realise
my bath stood occupied.

Mmm.

Mmm.

None required.

Purpose has been seen
to completion.

The old fool Gabinius
stood pleased your champion

did not perish -

at least... not in the arena.

A sentiment to be turned
towards advantage.

Make no move absent my blessing.

- Mm.
- I shall think upon it.

Messia,
remain to attend Dominus.

I would see her hands
towards loftier task.

Come.

Yes, Domina.

She stands your
slave to command.

Not that of Caesar's bitch.

Cornelia carries weight of
family name eclipsing that

of even noble husband.

She must be tolerated,
upon the moment.

See bath drained and refreshed.

I will not soak
in waters tainted

by her passions.

I did not expect to see
you so far from slumber

- at such an hour.
- See that broken,

and fingers to follow.

What errand has the Syrian
set you upon now?

He would entreat use
of your medicus.

- What of your own man?
- He has...

taken wing.

Our champion is in need of
urgent care and discretion.

You will have both.

Sentius, fetch Echemus.

Yes, Dominus.

- Gratitude.
- Retain it.

I no longer have use
for the man.

You depart Capua?

Your powers of observation
are truly unmatched.

Were you to break fucking
word in advance of deed?

Towards what purpose?

I grow weary of
forever giving chase.

Perhaps in Sicilia I shall find
myself the object of pursuit.

- Is that where you flee?
- I merely seize moment

towards more
favorable ventures.

As do all who hasten
exit at darkest hour.

See yourself to street.
I must attend to my affairs.

No.

Give voice to what truly
moves you to sudden action.

And see burden shared.

You know well what moves me.

Do you not you live
beneath the roof

of the House of
fucking Caesar?

Caesar?

But what hold does the man have
towards you?

I aided in his ruse
of Cilician attack...

and in protesting life
lost in such

now stand the object
of his fucking wrath.

The Cilicians were Caesar's men?

You did not know?

No, I did not.

Nor your part
in the fucking scheme.

As I did not know Caesar's
desires rose towards blood.

Now I stand trapped
as insect fixed upon web

and would see myself removed
from Capua before spider returns

with venomous intent.

Hmm.

So we fall from one another.

Such need not hold true.

Stay at my side.

Let us away to Sicilia together.

I cannot leave my duties.

Duties of treachery

and bloodshed
the Syrian compels?

Do not take my meaning unkindly,
yet a man of your years

is blessed by each passing day.

Do you wish to spend those
remaining in servitude

to such a... creature?

You would have me abandon
all I hold towards honour?

I would but have you strive
for something more.

Turn from cold, uncaring arms,

in favour of loving embrace.

Can you fucking save her?

- What words does the man break?
- Greek.

Did you not think to ask
if he could speak

common fucking tongue?

You stand Syrian. Do you not
grasp the man's language?

Towards completion of
simple trade, I am your man.

Beyond such, I stand
as ignorant as you-

- Uh...
- Fuck.

Huh? Fuck. Fuck!

Uh...

Who within our house
grasps the man's tongue?

Knowledge your fucking
doctore does not hold.

I do not care for
your fucking tone.

Nor I for life
being put at peril,

absent awareness.

Who has done so?

The villain stands before me.

Opiter confides that our coming
upon the Cilician attack

was not by happenstance.

Nor were they Cilicians.

How has he come by this?

Then he breaks truth.
You conspired with Caesar

to stage attack to gain
favour with Gabinius.

My hand holds no place in this.

Caesar moved pieces upon board
absent consultation

with the villain before you,
you fucking shit.

- When did you discover such?
- Only after his arrival.

What part does
Opiter play in this?

Moved by Caesar's purse,
he saw Cossutia

to appointed time and place.
He now takes flight to Sicilia

for fear his tongue
will be forever stilled

to conceal misdeed.

He moves as anyone
with fucking sense

when confronted with
the ambitions of Caesar.

Why was threat carried
not revealed to me

when you learned of it?

You'll know of my thoughts...

when I deem it fucking so.

Argh!

Dominus!

- I would ask towards Achillia.
- Return to fucking purpose

or see yourself to like fate
in the arena.

Yes, Dominus.

Apologies.

What shit do you give
for the Nubian?

If the bitch falls, we rise.

She stands champion and
should be honoured as such.

Do you hold worry
towards the champion...

or the woman?

Turn mind towards training...

or see teeth from fucking mouth.

We must present a champion
to stand for Achillia

till she regains rightful place.

Who would you choose?

Do you not hold vaunted
title of fucking doctore?

Attend!

Contest shall be held.

The victor shall claim
mantle of champion

until the gods return Achillia
to the sands of the arena.

- Prepare yourselves.
- Hold.

I would see contest of
more intimate nature.

- Viridia.
- The finest of your men

presented as entertainment
for noble guests.

Let us make selection from
the Syrian's meagre stock.

Which would you desire
towards closer inspection?

Hmm.

- That one stands of a form.
- Hmm.

She favours you, as aged cat
towards slow witted mouse.

The one beside him
also pulls attention.

Claws extend towards
less savoury meal as well.

And what of beloved daughter.

Does no one draw interest?

Perhaps... that one?

Let us choose
less seasoned meat.

You.

See them washed
and brought up at once.

Let us to wine and food
in time between.

Hmm.

It is not enough
she commands villa;

Cornelia seeks to
consume ludus as well.

There's always the cliff,
which you appear to favour.

See the men to fucking contest.

I will return the others
to flock upon hour

pried from vulture's grasp.

It did not cross mind to
inform me of fucking guests?

I was unaware of their presence.
Messia attends Domina's whims.

Cornelia does not stand domina
of this fucking house.

Apologies.
How shall I address her?

I do not fucking know.

Busy yourself with useful
purpose and remain far

afield from her gaze.

Lest it set you ablaze
for base amusement.

- Go.
- Dominus.

As requested, the finest
offering of the House of Ashur,

rivalling any within fair city.

Hmm. Opiter's men stand more
pleasing to discerning eye.

Unfortunate veil obscures
fullness of consideration.

Hmm.

Remove your subligarias.

Mmm.

That one stands
a wonder, does he not?

I defer to wisdom of
experience upon subject.

Did you not also once
stand a gladiator, Syrian?

A god of the arena,
my victories legend.

Let us weigh boisterous claim

and witness evidence
of the divine.

I must gently remind...
I stand dominus in this house--

And I stand heir to
the storied name of Cinna,

far surpassing that
of claimed title.

- Mother.
- We are but guests here

and hold no sway upon desire
of gracious host.

Gratitude. I would see you
honoured by requested display.

Impressive.

Yet offering falls...

short of promised divinity.

You may go.

You really must visit
Capua more often.

The city does present amusement,
yet I long for Rome

- and more civilised clime.
- Mm. We are of similar mind.

Yet I am moored to this fucking
place by my husband's sentiment

towards childhood home.

Apologies.
The heat and the wine-

Stomach turns.
I would seek repose,

to rejoin when humours permit.

Of course.
See her to my bedchambers.

Gratitude,
yet I noted them upon entry

and would not leave
you unattended.

She is of a rather
delicate nature, is she not?

She stands her
mother's daughter-

and shall reflect such
upon a moment.

Hmm.

Apologies. I do not mean
to intrude upon thoughts.

Your presence
welcomes an end to them.

May I offer wine?

I fear I have already indulged
to excess.

Does such a thing exist?

Gratitude. For cup...

and temperate response
to unfortunate jest.

A thing of no concern.

My father holds that women
cluck like hens.

But he is mistaken,

it is the rasping of hawks,
circling wounded prey.

I stand unscathed.

She was in error.

Caesar's wife.

Your boasts proved
true, once again.

In all regards.

Apologies. I must...

tend to Achillia.

May I fall by your side?

I long to lay eyes
upon such marvel again.

Doctore?

Celadus! Victor!

You almost had me, brother.

A lie.

Yet well received.

- Thoughts appear elsewhere.
- As do yours.

I would ask to see Achillia,
upon your discretion.

Towards what end?

I saw to her training
in your absence

and stood friend to her.

My presence may prove
a comfort towards recovery.

Her fate lies far removed
from mortal grasp.

Fix mind on contest
to stand in her place.

Hedylus!

Helios!

Take position.

Begin!

I do not understand
your words, you Greek fuck!

He says to place bit in mouth
so she does not sever tongue.

Uh...

gratitude.

My knowledge of Greek does not
extend so far a distance.

My husband had many dealings
with their people.

He wished me to be able
to break words with them

when entertaining at our villa.

Apologies. I did not mean
painful memory exhumed.

When my husband fell,
it was as if heart had been

sundered from chest.

He must have stood a titan,
to warrant such emotion.

He was a good man.
And well loved.

Yet as days churn,

grief shifts from husband
to greater loss.

I do not grasp meaning.

Our union was arranged towards
benefit of both our families.

I devoted life to his,

absent consideration of my own.

You now hold regret,
being so bound to him?

As I said, he was a good man -

gentle, kind.

Yet as his memory fades,

unsettled notion
weighs upon mind.

Give it name,
if you are so able.

It is a thought
born of a whisper,

grown to deafening roar...

that what I grieve
now is not his loss,

but that of purpose
and desire denied as my own

that perhaps this world
offers more than husband

and promise of children,

of a villa filled with pretty,
empty things...

I among them.

What has moved you
to such revelation?

You.

And your presentation of a woman
upon the sands of the arena,

in opposition of all
I have been taught

is our proper place
in the republic.

Together, you have shown me
that I stand but spectre

haunting this body...

conjured by ritual
of loving parents

and husband chosen
absent consent.

It is a grave honour, then...

to have played a part,
however small, in...

awakening towards
higher purpose.

My mother would vehemently
disagree.

She has proven...

difficult, upon occasion.

The fault lies not in her alone.

She is but wild bird
confined to gilded cage,

bars forged by the
traditions of men.

Do I... not stand as such?

Allow me to amend.

Forged by traditions
of Roman men.

Ah.

He says he's done all
he can for her

and that she's in the hands
of the gods now.

Then she stands alone.

You blaspheme.

I but speak of experience.

I hold that we are
never truly alone...

if heart is held open.

I shall make offering
to the gods,

coupled with prayer
towards Achillia's health

and prosperity.

And yours as well.

Jupiter truly
blesses us this day.

They do stand enticing vision,

despite labouring
beneath the Syrian.

Which do you favour?

Difficult to judge,
given current form.

Then let us see expectations...
raised.

Present yourselves in more...
heroic fashion.

Shall we retrieve
errant daughter

- to lay eyes upon display?
- I fear thoughts towards

fallen husband
might temper enjoyment.

She must brave to sail upon
the seas of marriage once more,

in advance of youth faded.

You yet have thoughts
towards Caesar's man?

The name Quintus Thermus
does rise by day and hour.

Yet I fear my own husband,

whose allegiance lies
firmly... with Pompey.

Pompey shall fade from concern,
as he shall from history.

Securing future of daughter,

by extension,
that of deserving mother,

is all that should
move decision.

You would have me take position

counter to desires...

of my husband?

I would but see
your own satisfied.

I fear you mistake me.

I mistake nothing.

Celadus stands
at forefront of standing.

Yet Tarchon,

Erato and Ephesius
were not among contest,

occupied as they were.

See them returned to purpose
at break of day.

Mood appears lifted.

Achillia improves?

She remains caught between
this world and the next.

Yet hope and heart...

blossoms.

She has proven herself
beyond expectations.

She rose to champion upon
your fucking instruction,

despite reservation towards
presenting a woman

in the games.

I but did what
any doctore would.

You stand overly humble.

Achillia's victory has ignited
and inspired this city in...

unexpected ways.

You honour me.

I but break truth.

Neglected by passions
of more inflamed moment.

If nothing further
is required of me,

I would fall from ludus
towards personal matter.

Go, you fucking goat.

And may it involve cock
and the pleasuring of it.

Where has the shadow that
darkened this house fallen?

Domina has taken to bedchambers,

filled with wine and visions
of heroic offerings.

Do not refer to her as Domina.

- Is that not what she stands?
- Name her fucking Athena

if the doing of such bends
her to more pleasant mood.

Yes, Dominus.

May slumbering beast
remain sated

and quietude return.

Bring food,

in advance of
my own fucking dreams.

You fall to her side
as obedient pet.

- I do but as commanded.
- Absent complaint.

Has any ever served purpose
in this fucking house?

What words did she break
with Cossutia,

in absence of Dominus?

None of note.

Dispatched by the
Syrian once more?

My will is my own.

I come to offer gratitude for
allowing use of your medicus.

Achillia recovers?

She has been given chance
to do so, upon your kindness.

Such was extended to
neither her nor the Syrian.

Then I extend gratitude
from my lips alone.

And offer gift...

in return.

I have never witnessed
you absent it.

When I won my freedom
in the arena,

I bought the first bauble
I laid eyes upon in the market.

A foolish waste of coin.

Yet it stood symbol...

of what could be achieved

if heart is set towards
unwavering future.

You will accompany me
to Sicilia, then?

The thought of abandoning
the House of Ashur

- still troubles mind.
- The Syrian has proved himself

most resourceful.
He shall survive.

It is not his survival
that causes worry.

You believe he would
strike against me...

if I were to wrest you from him?

You do not know the man as I do.

He is consumed by
erratic passions,

often culminating
in murderous win.

I have seen him,
in fit of temper,

seize the life of one of
his most valued gladiators,

amongst scarce stock,

with but shattered jug of wine.

Perhaps loss of prized
doctore may be balanced

by offering he would hold
towards larger value.

What miracle would you invoke
to tame lethal tempest?

An unexpected bounty.

One he shall find impossible
to turn from.

As I find the thought
of your hands upon me...

impossible to strike from mind.

A sentiment closely shared.

Fucking cunts!

You betray me for this...

semblance of a man?

I stand titan to those
who know true worth.

Let us come to reason and
make offer benefitting all.

Offer Jupiter's cock
in place of my own

and it will not stand
sufficient.

I present something
of larger interest.

Well, birth thought
from fucking head

so I may strangle it
till fucking lifeless.

My villa and ludus,

and all men contained within

in exchange for
but one of yours.

Korris stands a free man

and can take leave
upon fucking whim.

Why part with such abundance
to purchase what is not owned?

The cost comes not towards me

but assurance that you and
I will part absent malice...

or retribution.

And who will stand in your place
as valued doctore?

- Elevate Celadus to position.
- Celadus?

He aided in the training
of Achillia

after I was set upon
by Proculus' men.

He will honour title
and this house.

I shall think upon it

and give reply
upon fucking leisure.

Fall to the ludus.

And you from fucking sight.

Tarchon!

Erato! Take position

and see contest resumed
towards title of champion.

I stroke cock to
climax once more.

I fear seed shall fall short

of purpose.

Begin!

It would be a great loss...

to see Korris depart.

The risk well fucking known.

What of Achillia? Has senses
stirred from darkness?

Word of such has not yet broken.

Dire tidings upon heel
of unexpected triumph.

I pray she does not
fall from life,

dragging you with her
from tenuous perch.

Gratitude for imagined concern.

Refill cup with more satisfying
vintage brought from Rome.

I have arranged invitation
to Gabinius' villa.

Name appointed time and I shall
command wagon to transport you.

The invitation is
not for myself.

I am to sit with Gabinius?

Towards subject of union
between beloved daughter

and Quintus Thermus,
ally of Caesar.

Marriage?

Viridia has expressed
desire towards such?

Women do not desire marriage.
Marriage desires them.

Gabinius will not be
swayed by my tongue

to such decision of import.

I have planted seed in fertile
ground of loving wife,

where it takes strong root.

Use goodwill garnered by
your champion's victory

to see effort to harvest.

Argh!

Tarchon - victor!

Celadus, Ephesius,
take position.

Begin!

All that has assaulted ear
since conclusion of our games

is the name Achillia.

And imploring demand
towards assistance

in securing your response
to mounting requests

for her inclusion
in upcoming celebrations.

We stand blessed by
effort and strategy.

Oh, your effort.
And most definitely

your fucking strategy, Syrian.

Yet we are bound by reflection,
mirroring shared blessings.

To see laurels heaped upon
the House of Gabinius,

and all beneath its roof,
fills heart to bursting.

Florid... yet appreciated.

How fares your champion?

Her injuries appeared
of grievous nature,

even viewed from distance
of pulvinus.

Many have made offerings
and broken prayer

towards her return to the arena.

Your voice among them?

I have no tongue for it.

Mother and sister would often
entreat the gods of my homeland

towards relief
from our suffering.

Yet...

none ever materialised.

I hold no grace towards
words of prayer myself.

Yet daughter holds such
gifts in abundance.

She recalls image of my sister
when we were young,

not in form or countenance,

but in beliefs,

deeply held.

You have broken words
with her upon subject?

When she and her mother joined
Caesar's wife at my villa.

- Cornelia.
- Mm-hm.

A woman held together
in human form

only by schemes and ambitions.

Now she conspires...

to see my only child
bonded to Quintus Thermus

to advance manoeuvrings.

I must confess...

I have been urged to
attempt to move you

towards favour of proposition.

Urged?

Commanded, by Caesar,
through voice of Cornelia.

You believe Crassus
moves Caesar

as he so moves wife?

I believe Julius fucking Caesar
moves by no force

other than his own
ravenous appetite.

You speak candidly towards
those you owe allegiance.

Or I find myself ensnared in net

woven by hands
other than your own.

I am no friend of Caesar,
nor serpent the man claims mate.

I am beholden to Crassus alone,

owing to him my freedom
and all I possess since.

A wise and measured response,

one I would offer
if position reversed.

Yet place thought
of Crassus aside.

If he stands not
the source of desire

towards Viridia's marriage,
what path would you counsel?

I would plea... against it.

Plea? So strong a condemnation?

I have only known your
daughter for briefest moment,

yet... lasting impression
has been made.

I would not see her used
as a piece upon board of Caesar

and Cornelia's game.

Once again, we stand reflection.

I will not give consent
to proposed union.

- A decision wisely made.
- Now turn thoughts from such

and fix them upon
own fucking house.

Mind seldom strays from task.

Opportunity such as your
champion presents

rarely grace those
of your station.

You must build upon it
or see possibility evaporate

as swiftly as- as dew
beneath withering sun.

One as you describe
has recently presented itself.

In form and manner?

In such that would greatly
expand holdings upon single...

stroke.

- And the cost of it?
- In coin, none.

Yet it would be
a loss keenly felt

nonetheless.

Men of position and power
have but one thing in common -

the sting of yesterday's
sacrifice

in service towards greater
glory of tomorrow.

Seize fucking moment

and set loss to sea
upon distant tide.

Where's Achillia?!
Where's Achillia?!

- Where's Achillia?!
- Soon, soon, soon.

When will Achillia grace
the arena once more?

The Goddess of Death
shall reclaim the sand

upon a day soon approaching!

And fuck all who dare
stand before her! Ha!

- (crowd laughs, cheers]
- The woman yet lives?

She does.

How fares your champion?

Resurrected?

Or yet in eternal repose?

Heap gratitude upon foreign gods

your bitch did not face
the Brothers Ferox.

Do you value life so little
to form guard of...

half-men?

Perhaps my... little sword

shall carve name into block
of wood resting upon shoulders.

Satyrus.

Fall to purpose,

and see coin owed from
merchant Tantalus collected.

- And if he cannot produce?
- Add trophy to your belt.

Go.

I would break words with
the Syrian absent distraction.

Scurry forth.

Apologies. Satyrus possesses
bile of one fully formed,

concentrated into
diminutive vessel.

A small annoyance,
barely rising to notice.

Now, what fucking
words do you hold

I have interest
in breaking with you?

Your unusual offering in the
arena has admittedly ignited

the baser elements of the city.

Yet it is foolish to hold that
her fortunes shall continue

in light of injuries sustained.

And how does such matter
weigh upon your fucking mind?

They do not. Yet I see

convergent path in what you
have managed to achieve,

however brief in nature.

Speak plainly
or part fucking way.

Plainly, then.

I offer alliance.

If your champion recovers
from wounds inflicted,

we shall pair her
against my lesser men,

to extend her life and reap
further coin from those rabid

at thought of a woman defying
odds towards fated end.

Hmm.

I would counter generous offer.

Unhinge jaw...

and swallow cock.

I offer hand only to find
teeth snapping at flesh.

You piss on the House of Ashur
at every turn

and now stand in wonder
I do not take knee

and receive golden tribute?

Let us turn from rightfully
aggrieved past

and seize necessity
of present moment.

I am soon to fucking
dwarf necessity.

You grow so bold after but
single victory in a Primus,

with champion lying at
the gates of the Underworld,

yet a breath from admittance?

Bolder than stunted
imagination could dream.

My holdings double upon
turn of circumstance.

And how do you call
forth such miracle?

By one also much abused
by your fucking tongue.

The man takes flight,
his holdings falling

to deserving hands.

Opiter?

You do not possess coin
to secure what is his,

short of Crassus himself
shitting gold

into outstretched palm.

Oh, I possess all that is
required of worth and value

beyond coin.

The House of Ashur
shall soon stand monolith,

lesser men forever to dwell

in its fucking shadow.

There are but two remaining

within grasp of honoured
mantle of champion.

Celadus...

Tarchon...

take position.

At last...

I will seize title
from undeserving woman.

And I shall reclaim it

to present as gift
when she rises again.

Begin!

Why do you fight for her?!

Argh!

Argh!

I fight for this fucking house.

Celadus - victor.

- The title of champion falls--
- Stay hand!

Tarchon shall stand
as champion

until such day Achillia
returns to form.

See Celadus elevated
to position of doctore.

And all encompassed
by declaration.

My time upon the sands
draws to sudden end.

Embrace achievements of those
you lend experience to,

as I have done for many years.

You have given all to
the arena, old friend.

Does it stand possible
to hold dream of anything

beyond blood and glory?

One whose worth transcends
value of any victory

or cheering crowd.

You stand ready to
fall from this house?

And eager to do so.

Uh, there is yet...

final thing I would
ask of you, in...

advance of parting.

She does not wake.

She stands at the
judgement of her gods

and shall return to
the world of the living

if found of worth.

I would tip balance...

with offering and...

prayer.

You would entreat the gods
you do not believe in?

They have seldom given me
cause for such faith.

Yet perhaps effort combined

may move them
towards compassion.

Then let us stand as one.

I... live?

Our journey has not yet ended.

The gods do not fuck you
this time.

I still do not care for you.

Nor I you.

Sentius!

I would take meal
before journey.

Sentius? Sentius!

Someone has a secret.

Secrets. Secrets.

Thought he could leave
absent farewells.

Thought he could fuck...

the Syrian's man.

Presenting gift
of villa and ludus,

to fuck our dominus!

Apologies.

I- I forgot myself.

- We will help you remember.
- Help you.

Take it.

All of it!

In exchange for my life!

- Your life...
- Your life...

...holds no value now.

I beg you.

Spare me!

Argh!

Argh!

The world looks
so much larger,

does it not,

from down here?

Please, don't.
Please, I beg you. Please.

Argh!