"No, it can't be..." Ruben stared blankly at Sinner in the arena for a long time before turning to exchange a glance with Rufus. In that look, they both saw the same message: could it be that another legend was about to rise in the LB Arena?
"Elijah," Brute's voice was unusually serious.
"What?" Elijah responded in a daze.
"I really admire you now," Brute added.
"Huh?" Elijah was puzzled.
"You said this morning that something extraordinary would happen tonight. I didn't expect that everything happening tonight is... extraordinary," Brute muttered, staring dumbfounded at Sinner in the arena, who was lost in thought, gazing at the broken sword in his hand. Brute's grip on his axe tightened.
"Uh... yeah," Elijah wasn't sure how to respond. Everything that had transpired this evening had far exceeded his expectations.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the more exciting part of the show is about to begin! The masters of these beasts, the savage gods themselves, seek revenge for their beloved creatures by killing our brave warrior. So, what will the final outcome be? Will our hero defeat the savage gods, or will they claim his life? Let's wait and see!" The announcer's voice rang out as the gates in all eight directions of the arena opened simultaneously. From each door, a team of three fully armed combatants emerged. They were originally scheduled to perform alongside Sinner, but now they had become his opponents in battle.
"Heh heh, word just came down that if we win this fight, we'll become official gladiators. Not only will we gain more freedom, but we'll also earn a hefty reward. Sinner, don't blame us for being ruthless," one man clad in thick leather armor, carrying a massive axe, said in a deep, muffled voice.
"It seems that the guilty can never fully atone for their sins," Sinner sighed as he watched the slaves approaching him with sinister grins. His tone was heavy, leaving it unclear whether he was speaking of himself or of others.
"Oh my gosh, Boss Elmo, you really astonished us!" Duke Wilfred Gardner muttered to himself, his eyes never leaving Sinner in the arena. "Perhaps... yes, perhaps I could lend a hand in the next show at LB Arena."
Standing beside Duke Wilfred Gardner, Duke Filip Murphy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, lightly shook his sleeve, and stroked his beard.
"Hmph, at a time like this, you still have the leisure to preach. Sinner, all of this sin is yours to bear alone. We don't have time to play with you." With that, the slaves let out a fierce roar, brandishing their weapons as they charged toward Sinner, launching a brutal attack under the moonlight.
The sky had long since darkened, and the moon had quietly hidden behind the clouds, like a shy girl on her first date, excited yet nervous, waiting for someone special to appear before her, solely for that person's beauty.
Above the vast LB Arena, luminous crystal stones hung high, intertwining in the air to form a net-like structure. Each crystal emitted a warm, glimmering light that illuminated the arena below. Surrounding the arena, eight massive glass lamps were lit, creating a bright scene, though not as dazzling as the scorching sun of daytime.
Sinner navigated through the attacking formations of the eight groups of slaves. Although he faced peril, he managed to hold his ground for the time being.
"It seems that humans are indeed harder to deal with than beasts," Sinner muttered unconsciously. "Although we've just formed our teams, they are all seasoned thieves, and some of them even have backgrounds as bounty hunters, so they are used to working in temporary groups. Besides, I'm unarmed while they wield carefully selected weapons. Things are looking dire."
"It's too late to realize that now; prepare to go to hell," the slaves sneered as they heard Sinner's muttering, intensifying their attacks with their weapons.
"However, no matter how strong they are, those who are guilty must ultimately face punishment. A person might evade human punishment, but they can never escape divine retribution." Sinner's expression changed; his half-closed eyes suddenly sharpened. The figure that had been staggering through the blades of light now transformed, moving like a ghost among the crowd, flickering in and out of sight.
"In every heart lies an indelible mark; some marks may go unnoticed, yet when a person is fully relaxed, when they let down their defenses, dreams will unveil an unknown page of the soul. I am that dream, your dream, the shadow of guilt drifting in your hearts. Enraptured by the illusion of dreams, I reveal your sins and shatter them, called—divine retribution." The soft voice seemed to whisper in the ear, resonating like an inner echo. Everything felt so surreal yet real, close yet distant, gradually sinking, becoming intoxicated...
The cheers from the stands had long since ceased. In the entire arena, aside from the sound of wind created by movement, there was not a single noise. Silence, silence, as if everyone had fallen asleep, as if the entire world had drifted into slumber.
In the arena, the slaves continued to swing their weapons, but they gradually began to struggle. In their eyes, the Sinner, who had just barely managed to survive moments ago, suddenly became unclear. It was like encountering someone in a dream; they seemed so close that one could reach out and touch them, yet when they truly extended their hand, they found nothing but air. At that moment, Sinner had already moved to another position, still so close, still within reach.
"Dream is both reality and illusion; you will forever be lost within it, unable to distinguish, unable to escape, eternally wandering on the edge of two realms." Sinner's figure appeared beside a door leading to the resting area. That was the very door he had used to enter, and there was still a notch on it from where he had struck.
A sigh seemed to emanate from the arena itself, and at that moment, all the spectators finally came to their senses.
"Hey, what just happened?" Feeling a vague and indescribable emotion in his chest, many people gasped as they recalled the impression that had been both clear and blurry, like a dream.
"That was incredible! What was that feeling just now? Was it the legendary magic? My God, I never expected someone on our continent would possess such abilities," exclaimed Duke Wilfred Gardner, snapping back to reality, unable to contain his excitement.
"It shouldn't be magic; I've seen magic before, but that didn't give me that sensation. It's probably a form of exceptional skill—so advanced it's hard to believe," said an elderly steward dressed in formal attire, leaning close to Duke Wilfred Gardner's ear.
"Oh, hahaha! The world is truly marvelous; such skills actually exist. Boss Elmo, what do you think? Who is stronger, this person or Aelric? Haha, your LB Arena is really something else!" Duke Wilfred Gardner seemed unusually enthusiastic. Elmo merely smiled in response to Wilfred Gardner's question, not providing an answer.
"Brother Elmo, it seems your arena is indeed filled with hidden talents," Ruben chuckled dryly.
"Not at all; ML Arena is where the true talents lie," Elmo replied.
The slaves in the arena were still waving their weapons, but compared to before, their movements had become aimless and chaotic. Their footsteps were unsteady, their bodies leaning; all of them showed signs of exhaustion, and one by one, they fell to the ground.
"My God, my God! Twenty-four to one, a complete victory! The champion of this match has been decided: our arena's rookie gladiator, nicknamed 'The Angel's Punishment!'" The announcer leaped up, standing on the edge of the platform and shouting excitedly.
"The Angel's Punishment? Hehe, interesting. Another gladiator worth cultivating; it seems LB Arena is becoming more and more exciting," Duke Filip Murphy couldn't help but feel a stir at the announcer's words.
In the arena, gladiators typically used nicknames instead of their real names, just like Elijah, Brute, and even Aelric. However, they had lived in the arena for so long that their true names had long been forgotten. Nicknames, while representing a person, also subtly indicated their rank. In the ten years since Aelric, LB Arena had seen countless excellent gladiators, but none had been bestowed with the nickname "Angel." Not even the formidable Elijah or Brute. Yet today, in a routine performance, a rookie who had just been a slave was given the nickname "Angel." Did this signify the beginning of another myth for LB Arena, or was it a prelude to internal chaos?
In the night, a shadow stood atop the tall flagpole of LB Arena, swaying in the gusting wind, merely causing the fabric of its clothing to flutter. The figure stood firmly on the slender flagpole, looking down at everything below.
The flagpole was distant from the arena and very high, so neither the glass lamps nor the glow from the crystals could reach this place, keeping it shrouded in darkness.
"Is today a special night?" The shadow gazed up at the sky, where the full moon's face sometimes peeked through the gaps in the clouds.
"Eagle in the sky, soaring between heaven and earth, surveying the world—nothing illusory or hypocritical can escape your gaze. Now, the eagle has come; is the world about to change from here?" The shadow's voice was old and profound, as if a soul was surging from its throat, echoing endlessly in the hearts of men. "The moon has become full."