novelhk 0067 What kind of class does it have to be called the Sun?
0067 What kind of class does it have to be called the Sun?
The child behind the mirror remained silent. In this world, in the city of Macurag, only Zhou Yun's question could make him think like this.
A god who denies his own divinity...
The child fell into deep thought.
At the same time, Zhou Yun, on the other side of the mirror, also glanced at Nuseria.
During these days, whenever he participates in a gladiatorial contest, he will cause his soul to leave his body, carrying the will of the deceased to ascend to the Golden Throne, repeatedly traversing the warp near Nuthria, which is occupied by the demon Khorne.
After this happened several times, the Khorne demons learned their lesson, and the number of Khorne demons entrenched near the Diascia Arena decreased significantly. Now, what surges beneath the arena's reality is a torrent of unclaimed, primal warp energy.
Just as Zhou Yun guessed, the weapons of those high-level gladiators cannot utilize this primitive subspace torrent; otherwise, they would have no need to build arenas and could simply let those weapons absorb it directly.
It's no wonder that these weapons were phased out in the dark ages of technology.
Your enemies wield psionic Gestalt entities that can gather the psionic energy of an entire planet, nanomachines that can hurle continents into the void, macro cannons that can fire black holes, panaceas that can grant immunity to all diseases, and firearms that can teleport you to the past to shoot your enemies.
But what you created is a silver vine that can whip people, and it also requires an organization to offer sacrifices to provide energy. If you are not eliminated, who will be?
Before long, the weapons of the high-ranking riders of Daisy should be mostly out of service, which will be the opportunity for these gladiators to escape.
Onomamus has begun to organize the gladiators...
The scent of red sand rushed into Zhou Yun's lungs through the brick and stone passage, and the light from the red sand field pierced his eyes.
"Another gladiatorial contest." Anglong stood beside Zhou Yun and muttered to himself.
A smile flickered across Onomamus's dark brown face: "It will all end eventually."
Yes, it will eventually end.
Angron nodded heavily, now sensing a new emotion in the hearts of the gladiators of Nutheria.
It was not anger, not hatred, not pain, not love, but hope, a power that flickered with a faint light.
"What kind of opponents will they arrange for us today?" Angron asked, looking at Onomamus and then at Zhou Yun.
Yochuka, that young boy, made a ranking of the gladiators in the arena today.
Angron ranked first, followed by Zhou Yun and Onomamus, and Kleist ranked fourth.
According to Yochuca, Onomamus is equivalent to 1.2 to 1.5 Kleist, Zhou Yun is 1.8 to 2.0 Kleist, and Anglon is more than 5 Kleist.
Kleist expressed her dissatisfaction at becoming a unit of measurement, and Yochuka was hung on the roof with a spear by her for an entire night.
Now, with the three of them, whose combined strength is equivalent to 8.5 Crests, being simultaneously assigned to the arena by high-ranking riders, it's no wonder that Angron is wondering who will be their opponents.
"Whoever it is, will win," Onomamus said.
"We'll win..." Upon hearing this, Zhou Yun's eyes widened as he looked at Onomamus: "Don't say such unlucky things!"
"Where is the bad luck?" Onomamus couldn't help but ask.
The three of them walked through the porch and stood on the scorching red sand under the sun. The rough sand made Zhou Yun's feet burn even through his sandals, but what was even hotter than the temperature was the atmosphere in the arena.
The moment Angron, Zhou Yun, and Onomamus appeared, a deafening roar of cheers erupted from all directions, piercing through the curtain that shrouded the arena and showering the three of them with joy.
Zhou Yun noticed that the red sand was soaked in blood, indicating that many fierce battles had taken place here before them.
"My dear people, let us give eight cheers for our three champions!"
"The undefeated Angron!"
"Old Bear Onomamus!"
"Zhou Yun, the wizard who has risen from the dead!"
The eyes of worms appeared from mid-air, forming a circle and hovering above the arena.
Onomamus, Anglong, and Zhou Yun quickly exchanged glances.
Only eight units!
Compared to before, the number of Worm Eyes has been reduced to half, indicating that their plan has been quite successful.
If we just wait a little longer, until the omnics guarding the crypt also start to malfunction...
"My dear people, look up and gaze upon the one and only sun of our Disia, the monarch of the noble first family of Tarka, our radiant light, the great Sopra, who is with you."
What kind of class do you have to call yourself the sun? Your only sun is in the arena right now!
As Zhou Yun listened to the worm's words, he couldn't help but complain in his heart.
The rulers of Diya have arrived with such fanfare; it seems they are truly starting to panic.
The Talka family are likely descendants of the slave boy who unlocked the arsenal of the Dark Ages' technology.
"A tribute to Mingguang. We will present a special gift to Mingguang, to your passion and betting. Let's remember and enjoy this moment."
Opposite the three, the steel gates were slowly opening, and a strong stench of blood wafted out from the darkness, engulfing half of the arena.
Along with it came a dark, low growl...
"A beast?" Angron asked.
Zhou Yun frowned, the sweltering heat hitting him and making his skin feel numb and stinging.
His psychic premonitions roared, warning him of impending danger.
"It's not a wild beast," Zhou Yun said in a low voice.
"It's far more terrifying than that." Onomamus nodded in agreement with Zhou Yun's assessment, gripping his sword and shield tightly.
A burst of enthusiastic cheers erupted once again, engulfing everything around them; even the waves in the subspace rose and fell with the cheers of the audience.
Three figures clad in heavy black iron armor emerged from behind the iron gate. Their physiques were clearly deformed, with excessively swollen muscles and flesh undulating like worms with their movements. One wielded a battle axe larger than Angron's torso, another had iron chains wrapped around his arm connecting to a flail-hammer, and the last resembled Onomamus, holding a sword and shield.
What truly caught Zhou Yun's attention were their heads, adorned with menacing, terrifying double-horned iron crowns.
In Nusseria's gladiator culture, the iron crown with its two spikes symbolized unintentional killing.
Gladiators who wear this crown are all people who have been overwhelmed by dark rage in endless battles. Their minds are filled only with the pursuit of crimson blood, and all they care about is fighting, fighting, and fighting.
Later, the two horns on the helmets of the World Eater Legion also originated from this.
Beneath the iron crown, Zhou Yun saw steel braids piercing deep into his skull.
"Butcher's Nail," Angron said, naming the steel implant.
Onomamus's gaze was fixed on one of the three, a gladiator who, like himself, wielded a sword and shield.
"Ladies and gentlemen, commoners and nobles, cheer! Let us cheer for these three old champions!"
"They are gladiators from the deep pit, bloodthirsty demons with nails implanted in their bodies; they are Ilk, Turgi Shield, and..."
"Old Kress," Onomamus gripped his sword and shield tightly, "my teacher, my father..."
Zhou Yun's precognitive talent is roaring.
Darkness, a blood-soaked, dark future...
(I made a mistake earlier. I thought it would be released this Wednesday, but it turns out it's next Wednesday...)