Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 132: Firelight
The male assassin with a cold attitude was on the other side of the arena.
Randy threw out his heavy shield vigorously. His movements were much freer than when they fought side by side. Mora shouldn’t be with him, and he didn’t have to worry about her not keeping up with his actions. Oliver had heard about how decisive the tall man was. Randy would never refuse anyone who attacked. No matter how many people attacked at the same time, he never avoided fighting, and the battle would always end with the death of his opponent.
The tall assassin’s worth had skyrocketed. There was only one reason why he was still here. He had never taken the initiative, so he wasn’t “qualified” enough.
No one here would call other people’s names. It was better to say that some people forgot their real names. They called each other by how much they were worth. The death row prisoner first called Randy “10,000 with scars on his face”, then “20,000 with scars on his face”. After just a few days, there was no death row prisoner who would approach Randy. They just directly call him “50,000”.
Just like they directly called him “300,000”.
Randy’s behavior seemed contradictory, but Oliver could guess a bit about his purpose. Mora was still active outside the prison. Although he didn’t know the plans of the two assassins, most likely Randy was procrastinating on their behalf.
The assassin stood quietly on top of the bloodshed. The heavy shield that had taken countless lives rested beside him, covered with flesh and brains.
The smell of blood filled Oliver’s lungs. At the moment, there was no fiery fighting atmosphere in the arena. Most people were quiet, as if they were performing a dull daily task. There was only the wailing of the wounded and the sound of weapons colliding on the field. There were rarely curses. Newcomers would curse a few words at first, then most would either fall silent or die.
Oliver retracted his gaze from Randy. Not far from him, the moist breath of blood came to his face, and blood poured out of the wound of a death row prisoner. He quickly turned his face away. His dry throat tightened, and he couldn’t see the liquid flowing down his skin.
His painting style and fighting skills had also become famous after the battles in the past few days. No one wanted to get into an entanglement with the strange knight wearing the skeleton helmet for too long. His lips were dry and cracked, his face was full of dust and blood stains, and his whole body didn’t feel as if he was even half alive. They weren’t sure whether the other party was a living person or a corpse deliberately manipulated by the Gatekeepers.
After all, this was a free-for-all battlefield. What Oliver’s persistence brought wasn’t stability, but an uncoordinated sense of terror. Most death row prisoners would rather choose another opponent with a strong desire to attack.
Although there was no hint of time, most people would get tired and the pace of the fighting in the entire arena would slow down. The death row prisoners who were fighting in a chaotic mess gradually spread out. Most of the attackers who hoped to gain the favor of the Death Row Legion as soon as possible were black and blue, while the escapees were on the brink of exhaustion.
But there was one exception today.
A shrinking middle-aged man approached Oliver. His whole body was covered with blood and some of his gray hair was smeared with dirt, leaving only a handful of bones. The man held a rusted sword in his right hand, and his bloody tag was exposed.
There were only two digits left on his tag.
The man trembled so much that he didn’t dare lift his head, as if he was frightened. It felt like an air-dried rabbit corpse.
“Good man. I’m not your opponent,” he murmured. His voice was hoarse, as if he had swallowed strong acid. “But I know you’re a kind person… I can see it. Can you give me a hundred points? Just one hundred. You don’t lack these hundred points.”
His sword-wielding hand hung limp to the ground, with no intention of fighting, and his stick-like arm was still bleeding. Blood dripped onto the soil along the mottled blade of the long sword.
“I can’t lose anymore… I… If my value is taken away again, I’ll be sent to the test area. Please, I don’t want to go back to the testing area, but I can’t fight anymore today. Please, please…”
The man’s voice was like a fake sob.
Oliver held his sword vigilantly. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to accept all the party’s words at this time, but the person in front of him was a complete loser. His voice, his appearance—this person hadn’t won in a very long time.
He didn’t put down his sword and looked at the person seriously.
“Please. Please. Just let me touch your collar.” The man lowered his head to his chest and repeated in a broken tone. “I understand your concern. I’ll put down the sword now…”
After he said that, he let go of his right hand and the inconspicuous ragged weapon fell to the ground. He may have been too eager for Oliver’s consent and completely ignored the fact…
That others would not let this great opportunity go.
A bald man in red armor rushed at them at some point. The long axe slashed straight at the unarmed middle-aged man. Oliver’s attention shifted in an instant. He tried his best to turn around quickly and the Rest in Peace firmly held the blade of the axe that was shining in cold light.
But his opponent’s eyeballs were convex, and a mocking smile slowly appeared on his face.
“300,000… 300,00,” he repeated. “How exciting.”
Oliver reacted for a few seconds before realizing what the other party was talking about.
Exhaustion numbed his pain. He only felt a slight tingling and an unnatural cold. He still maintained the posture of holding the blade of the axe and slowly lowered his head.
There was an extra piece of blood-red metal on his chest, like the tip of a long sword. The blade of the sword penetrated the location of his heart. The edge was pitted, and an obvious rust stain could be seen in the blood.
‘It shouldn’t be like this,’ he thought groggily. ‘It shouldn’t be like this.’
Then the tip of the sword retracted from his chest under his gaze. The owner drew it back, bringing up a string of blood.
…Was this reality? For a moment, Oliver was at a loss.
Then the world in front of him turned into a pure dark red. Before he realized it, his body had already fallen into the mud. He tried to keep his eyes open, but everything in front of him was quickly blurred. Oliver’s brain was blank, and all his thoughts seemed to stop working in an instant. He instinctively moved his head and looked at his left wrist.
But before he had time to see anything, his vision was overwhelmed by darkness.
“Sad instinct.” The thin middle-aged man finally raised his head. His eyes were abnormally blood-red. The shrinking look just disappeared without a trace. “What an idiot.”
The death row prisoners not far away averted their gaze one after another. Some even breathed a sigh of relief. No one made a sound. The puzzling “abnormal” person had finally disappeared, and the days they were familiar with were about to return.
Everything would work out normally, continuing to exude a cold and stiff sense of security.
The middle-aged man with red eyes was playing with the metal tag in his hand, and his voice was abnormally happy. “3,005, how long do you think this 300,000 is enough for me to lose?”
And the other party just frowned at the metal tag. The middle-aged man raised his eyebrows and brought the tag to his eyes.
The above was still two digits.
“…Something’s wrong. This guy can’t be alive,” he muttered, glancing at the weird knight who fell to the ground.
Those lost green eyes were still half open, and the blood flowing out had gathered into a large pool. Even if the heart wasn’t destroyed, this blood loss was fatal.
The middle-aged man wiped the tag impatiently, but the trembling strokes on the tag weren’t distorted. They stubbornly maintained their double-digit appearance.
This was the last sentence he left in this world.
A heavy metal shield flew from a distance and directly shattered his head. Its speed was so fast that after the shield flew over, there was only a section of his neck that couldn’t stop spurting blood from his skinny shoulder.
3,005 with a long axe in his hand, was extremely aware of the current affairs. He slipped into the dense crowd in the next second. The new slayer of the arena came over and silently picked up his shield back into his hand, then paused for a few seconds in front of the knight in the pool of blood and let out a very light sigh.
Then he also frowned. The knight’s metal plate was almost submerged in blood, but the value of 300,000 did not decrease.
“The battle is over.” At that moment, an emotionless voice was expanded by magic and resounded over the arena.
The white-robed death row prisoners in the testing zone hurriedly entered like ants. Some of them put bodies or fragments of bodies into a cart, while others were responsible for returning the injured to their cells. Everything was in order.
This should be the case.
“You’re bringing back 300,000’s corpse?” The big man who used a meteor hammer complained in a low voice. “This isn’t in line with regulations.”
“He’s not dead.” Micah shook his head desperately and defended in a low voice. “You… You see. There’s still value in his tag. He’s not dead. The Gatekeepers don’t make mistakes.”
The cell tonight was quiet. People stayed in their usual positions, staring indifferently at the lifeless body on the floor.
“Oh, that’s just right.” The sturdy man picked up his meteor hammer. “No matter how special he is, he’ll die if his head is crushed… What say you, little mouse?”
The short, mole-like man did not rush back to the darkest corner as before. He half knelt in front of the body and did not get out of the way.
“You… You can’t,” Micah said shivering, scratching the stitched wound until it cracked again. “If… If he really dies. Didn’t I make a mistake at the beginning? I’m right. I must be right…”
“What crazy shit are you saying.” The big man gave him a kick and specifically picked a nonfatal part. He watched as the white figure fell to the side. “Get out of the way.”
Micah whimpered, shrank back in place, and no longer put up resistance. He firmly turned his back to the two of them, holding his head tightly with both hands. The death row prisoner who used the meteor hammer picked up the heavy weapon and hesitated for a few seconds, but he gritted his teeth hard and used all his strength to smash it down.
However, there was no sound of splattered flesh and blood in the darkness. Just a flash of fire.
The metal evaporated the second before it touched the “corpse”. Even the melting of the metal jumped over the corpse. When the big man pulled up the ball chain again, only a hissing sound and smoke were left at the other end of the chain. The barbed iron ball was completely gone.
He took in a deep breath and staggered back. He trembled and made a few meaningless noises and finally succeeded in asking the question that everyone in the cell wanted to ask, “What the hell is this?”
The stubborn knight lay quietly on the stone brick. His wound was no longer bleeding. There was a faint sparkle on the edge of the black armor, like a charcoal fire that was about to go out. It breathed clearly and secretly, with a weird beauty that didn’t belong to this hell.
Underground in the arena.
“What’s the matter with this value?” The red-robed test zone manager roared. “His power is almost beyond the limit of his collar! Tela, you said he can’t die—”
“I simply guessed. Didn’t I tell you I was asleep?” The middle-aged man who was still stuck in the pile of books yawned.
The demon thought this reaction was indeed beyond his expectations.
Telaranea picked up a book and covered his face like an escape, so as to draw a line with the researchers who were in a hurry around him.
He stayed up all night and finally found a reasonable explanation for Oliver Ramon’s situation. More than 20 years ago, an abnormally strong external force enveloped Ramon’s heart, firmly suppressing the curse of the Trent Plague inside his heart while forcibly keeping the paralyzed heart pulsating.
This was the only solution he could think of, and depending on the current situation, this conjecture was probably correct, but…
Telaranea peeked out from the edge of the book and aimed his sight at Oliver Ramon’s constantly changing body data.
He never thought that the curse from the Abyss would completely surrender. This was simply unreasonable. The demon curled his lips under the page of the book. The power that suppressed the spread of the curse absolutely originated from the surface, and it was impossible to coexist in harmony with the power of the curse. After that sword destroyed Ramon’s heart, it caused the balance to break and the two forces—or perhaps coupled with the unlucky young man’s own magic—the three forces should fight each other in Ramon’s body until a new balance was reached.
The physical changes brought about by that process were quite interesting. Ramon may become a monster, or he may not be able to withstand the power struggle and explode. In any case, it shouldn’t be the current situation of falling asleep peacefully. Telaranea was a little aggrieved. The current situation was tantamount to a shocking explosion. The lead of the bomb burnt out and quietly muted the fire.
Something was wrong.
This was obviously the curse of the Abyss that had been entrenched for many years. How could it be like a blood scab that was completely killed. It disappeared as soon as it was fiddled with. If one were to make an analogy—it was like a brutal murderer who had been prying through doors for many years and finally sneaked into the mansion of his dreams, and then knelt down and killed himself as soon as he entered the door.
And the foreign power that had suppressed it for a long time was completely free. It was being transformed into Oliver Ramon’s own magic without hinderance.
This doesn’t make any sense. The Trent Plague curse wouldn’t vanish so easily. There was definitely a force he didn’t know that was involved in this process, and that force must have originated from the Abyss.
An unknown fourth force. A contract? The flesh of a superior demon? Or something else…
What the hell happened to that kid Ramon? Telaranea pressed his temple in dissatisfaction. At present, he only knew of one situation that would have such an effect, and the situation itself was purely out of conjecture—
No matter what kind of spell it was, it would keep quiet when it returned to its origin.
But that was impossible. Ramon had never used abyssal magic. How could it be related to the origin of abyssal magic? About the essence of magic… That was a problem that even he hadn’t understood yet.
Forget it. Telaranea sighed and took the book away from his face.
That female human had been watching him from the corner for too long, and he had to solve the current problem first. The demon stretched, then stood up, toppling a book on his back and massaging his waist.
“Mr. Warden,” Telaranea smiled and looked at the warden with a white cloth wrapped around his face—rather, a petite woman who was so nervous that her face turned pale after putting on her disguise. “What can I do for you?”
I need some serious sugar after this… Poor Ollie!