Dis Arena, the battlefield.
Generally speaking, the most important characters, operas, or matches are always left for the end. Therefore, after the "clash of the focuses" ended, there were no people left around the stands. Only Bartlett was still sitting on the head of the dead ancient giant dragon, not moving for a long time.
Of course, he didn't do this because his butt was frozen by the frost mist. Undead have no temperature, so you can't tell whether he or the surrounding ice is colder. At this moment, the barbarian was reminiscing the moment when the dark red barrier opened, and the cheers and curses that surged from the stands like a tsunami. To be honest, that feeling was indeed quite intoxicating, so much so that Bartlett found himself faintly reluctant to part with the yellow sand on which he had fought many battles.
"Haha, my head must have been frozen!" He laughed mockingly at himself, "Otherwise, how could I be attached to an arena in the city of devils?"
