“What on earth is happening?!” Prince Arthur wore a look of utter disbelief, unable to find any explanation in his mind for why the ogre had come back to life.
What’s more, he could see features of a Gold-class magical beast on the ogre’s body. Had it truly gained steel-like muscles and bones?!
When confronted with the incomprehensible, Arthur looked to this world’s outcasts—the slave girls. His two slave girls, Shadow Spider and Cursed Doll, avoided his questioning gaze, only lowering their little heads. Arthur understood in an instant; this was the body language of “I don’t know.”
He turned to see his younger brother Liumion deep in thought, sometimes murmuring, appearing to have a lively conversation with Samsara Tianqi. In contrast, Arthur stood here utterly bewildered, his own slave girls entirely useless by comparison.
Spurred by jealousy and frustration, Arthur’s hatred for Liumion intensified yet again, already far surpassing the point where he wanted to see him dead and gone.
The nobles in the stands erupted in startled discussions, while the guards and gladiators in the arena were also stunned, unsure for the moment how to respond to the sudden situation.
Of the only two outliers here, Baiya alone understood one thing—a certain monster wasn’t about to wait for everyone to collect themselves before acting.
The other outlier—the resurrected Gold-class ogre, revived by the power of the evil god—agreed wholeheartedly with Baiya’s notion.
Hysterical screams echoed throughout the arena, drowning out the nobles’ chatter. The crowd, which had briefly let down its guard, tensed to the utmost again.
For the gladiators fighting for their lives, and the nobles long accustomed to the sight of bloody death matches, that scream was all too familiar—the desperate wail of a human on the verge of death. What on earth had happened…
Amid a pool of blood, a bald, red-eyed man stood naked, without a single scrap to cover himself. He let go of the half-corpse in his hand, bared his blood-stained fangs, and gave a cruel grin at the gazes cast upon him.
Every living thing present had now entered his list of prey.
“Open fire! Open fire!” The commander of the musket guards shouted, eyes bloodshot. Just moments ago, the musket guards escorting Baiya, along with several nearby people, had been slaughtered, flesh and blood flying everywhere. They were the closest ones to the ogre!
A mere monster! Even as an arena beast it was just a slave! They, too, were slaves, but their status was so much higher! Any beast that dared rise up deserved death!
At the command, the surviving musket guards shuddered, lifted trembling arms, and pulled the triggers in succession. The roar of firearms restored a shred of courage to them for a moment.
“Die! Die! How dare you scare me!” The captain, face twisted, kept firing. If he didn’t turn the ogre into mincemeat, he wouldn’t feel satisfied!
Gunpowder blasts filled the arena, and the exploding smoke gradually engulfed the towering figure of the ogre. The musket guards kept reloading, priming, and firing. Facing death so directly had traumatized them, filling them with hatred for the ogre.
A single musket shot was powerful enough to blow a huge hole in a tree trunk surrounded by two or three people. As musket guards, they were the elite among the guards, always haughty due to the powerful weapons in their hands. Sometimes they even abused their privileges to torment, kill, or vent their anger on other slaves—they were the upper echelon among slaves.
Lowly slaves could never challenge their authority! All offenders must die!
Click. With no ammo left, the repeated dry clicks of the trigger irked the captain. He reached for the pouch at his waist, but the seven spare shots he’d prepared were gone, only powder remained.
He could make new ammo on the spot—musket guards were always trained for that. But it didn’t seem necessary now. After so many bullets, that damned thing must be nothing but pulp by now, haha!
But as the smoke was suddenly swept away by a powerful gust, the captain felt a huge hand clamp down on his head. His vision spun; his head, still wearing a look of surprise, soared into the sky. His headless body spouted a fountain of blood like a hot spring, then collapsed in a spray of dust.
Blood spread from beneath the corpse, forming a crimson pool. The killer’s face was blank, neither happy nor sad. Having returned from the dead, he was devoid of emotion, moving only with the urges to kill and feed.
With their captain dead, the musket guards screamed in panic and fired madly at the ogre. When their ammo ran out, the ogre, its skin still smoking from gunpowder residue, bent its knees and exploded from the ground, a black shadow hurtling into their midst.
“Gold-class!” Arthur clenched his fists, pounding the armrest. There was no mistake! Immune to musket fire—this hardiness was steel-like muscle and bone! The ogre had become a Gold-class magical beast!
Unbelievable—resurrection, and now evolution? What on earth was this phenomenon? Where did this power come from? The beast outbreak was still far off…
“Your Highness Arthur, Your Highness Liumion.”
A man with a long sword at his side and a white beret on his head strode up to Arthur and Liumion, knelt on one knee, and spoke expressionlessly, “Swordmaster Yacang, Captain of the Arena Guard, requests orders. Shall I execute the rampaging ogre?”
Swordmaster Yacang bowed his head after speaking, awaiting Arthur and Liumion’s commands. By right, he should have consulted the administrator, but today the highest nobles present were the two princes, and without their order he would not act rashly.
Yacang was a swordsman and an imperial Gold-class bodyguard. Though human, and seemingly at an absolute disadvantage compared to a Gold-class magical beast, he was confident he could easily slay the ogre in the arena. A monster was just a monster—never could it surpass humankind!
“No, order your men to stand down. Let it be.”
“Very well. Gather your men and kill it.”
At Swordmaster Yacang’s question, Arthur and Liumion gave completely opposite orders at the exact same time.