I became the master of the alien world

Chapter 115 Blackthorn Arena

Boru and Mocre walked side by side, Lancelot was still following behind them. He looked at Mocre's back, and an inexplicable sense of familiarity came to his heart, as if he had witnessed such a scene before.

He didn't remember it until this moment.

The three of them soon came to a room filled with iron tools. Countless weapons and armor were piled all over the floor. In a relatively clean corner of the room, there was a set of folded armor and helmets, next to a

The long sword, the blade emits a cold light.

"Master Harvey has prepared a set of suitable equipment for you. Maybe you won't be so scared after wearing it." Bolu patted Mokre's shoulder, and his tone became much gentler.

"Yeah." Mokley agreed and began to take off his worn-out coarse shirt.

Boru took Lancelot out of the room and waited for Mocre at the door.

Five minutes later, Mokre still hadn't come out.

Lancelot couldn't help but turn his head and look inside the door. He was worried that Mocre would want to kill himself as before.

The boy's eyes widened, and he saw that Mokley was fully armed, holding the extremely sharp sword in his hand.

Mokeli's back was turned to him, and it was impossible to know his expression at the moment, but his right hand holding the sword was shaking violently!

Lancelot soon discovered that Mocre's whole body was trembling.

Perhaps the fear of death prevented him from controlling his body, or perhaps it was the excitement of being about to enter the arena. No one knew what Mokre was thinking.

"Mokre, the time has come."

Bolu's deep voice rang in Mokre's ears. He turned around, his sallow face already covered with tears.

After a while, the three of them arrived at the stairs. On the left was the road leading to the ground, which was also the entrance to the arena.

The right side leads to the underground slave den.

Mokre handed the helmet in his left hand to Boru. Boru nodded and put the helmet on Mokre's head with his dark hands.

Lancelot noticed that the shape of the helmet resembled a pair of horns, one of which had been cut off at some point.

Mokley lowered his head and glanced at Lancelot, his eyes full of sadness: "Lancelot, I won't blame you."

Although Lancelot didn't understand what the other party was saying at all, he was already infected by Mocre's emotions at this moment, and tears overflowed his eyes unconsciously.

With tears in his eyes, Lancelot saw Mokre's back gradually shrinking until he disappeared.

"Lancelot!" Boru suddenly found that Lancelot fell backward!

——

Mokre came to the entrance of the arena, and the guard at the door began to turn the hinge on the side, and the iron door weighing a thousand kilograms slowly rose.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The arena was filled with crazy shouts, and the emotions of the audience in the stands were extremely high. This was the first game of the new season.

For those who have not watched a duel for half a year, they have been waiting for this day for too long.

This is a huge circular venue with a radius of 300 meters. The height of the auditorium composed of stone stairs is nearly 20 meters, which is enough to accommodate more than 50,000 spectators.

The weather was extremely hot, and the scorching wind blew up dust all over the sky, obscuring Mokre's sight. He could not see the expressions of the audience clearly, but he could hear their curses and roars very clearly.

Mokley looked at the huge arena and suddenly felt that he was so small. A puff of dust could easily bury him.

"Dear warrior, welcome to the Blackthorn Arena."

A charming female voice resounded throughout the arena, and the shouts of the audience stopped immediately, interrupting Mokre's thoughts at the same time.

"Today is the first duel of the new season. Next, I will introduce these two powerful warriors!"

"Eusebio, a deserter from the Free Land, the first person in history to set a record of killing a hundred people! Winner of the Black Thorn Emblem three times in a row! Everyone! Let's cheer for our great champion!"

"Eusebio! Eusebio! Eusebio!" The audience on the stage roared deafeningly.

When the dust cleared, Mokre could clearly see a tall golden figure standing at the entrance at the other end of the arena. That person was Eusebio.

Eusebio was now covered in golden armor from head to toe, holding an exaggerated giant sword in his hands.

It is said that this giant sword was made by Walker, the best craftsman in the Free Land. Its weight reaches a terrifying one hundred and fifty kilograms, which is almost equivalent to the weight of two adult men!

Eusebio thrust the giant sword hard into the ground, raised his hands high and accepted the cheers from all directions.

"Well, my head hurts." Mokley suddenly covered his head, and a severe headache made him close his eyes.

The long sword in his hand fell on the gravel-covered loess and made a muffled sound.

"Hahaha, this loser surrendered before the fight even started!"

"Go to hell, you useless piece of trash!"

"Go to hell! Go to hell! Go to hell!" Waves of boos erupted from the audience.

"Where is this?" Lancelot looked at the empty arena in confusion, and the continuous curses in his ears gave him a splitting headache.

The boy lowered his head and saw the long sword on the ground. He suddenly remembered something. Fear came over him like a tide. In such a hot weather, his whole body felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

"Damn it!" Lancelot inexplicably possessed Mocre's body again. He tried to reach out and pick up the sword on the ground, but found that he could not control this body.

"What's going on!" Lancelot thought desperately. It could clearly perceive the things around it, but it could not act according to its own will.

A few seconds later, he understood that he had only gained Mokre's perspective, and that the man who controlled this body was still the guy who claimed to speak five languages.

This happened more than once, and it was the same when Gloria showed the crystal ball in the castle.

Lancelot's mind came to Mocre's memory from the day before.

In a dark cell, the red-robed mage leaned over and said to the trembling Mokre: "Tomorrow will be the last battle in your life. Tens of thousands of spectators will bid you farewell. You will die gloriously like a hero."

."

Mokley cried sadly and kept knocking his head on the ground: "Lord Harvey, please spare me, I can give you whatever you want!"

"Shut up!" The red-robed mage's face darkened, and he raised his hand and slapped Mokre hard.

"You are not qualified to bargain with me. The only thing I want is to hear your scream before death."

As the red-robed mage spoke, a trace of fanaticism flashed in his eyes, and he said excitedly: "Pierce the sharp blade into the enemy's body, and the audience will applaud your bravery, and they will worship you for it!"

"And what you have to do is feel the silence at the moment when you swing the sword, and enjoy the thunderous applause and roar after killing the enemy!"

(End of chapter)