dkrc Chapter 211, 1nd position
Chapter 211, 1nd position
Chapter 211, First
"Bryn!"
"Bryn!"
"Bryn!"
As the unified shouts echoed throughout the arena, a burly middle-aged man slowly walked in from one of the passageways.
He looked to be around 35 years old, much taller than average, over two meters tall. His bare upper body was muscular and taut, with deep, rich bronze skin covered in rough lines left by the elements.
A thick beard obscured his jawline, and his light brown hair cascaded wildly down his back like weeds, revealing a gruesome scar on his forehead. His deep brown eyes were bloodshot and slightly red, as if burning with endless rage.
Judging from his appearance alone, he is a berserker, perhaps from the Highswamp tribe north of Neverwinter, or the permafrost of the Endless Glacier, or the southern foothills of the Roof of the World.
For these professionals whose hearts are often filled with anger and who are single-mindedly pursuing a death worthy of themselves, the brutal slaughter organized by Thor couldn't be more to their liking.
Therefore, berserkers are already regulars in this arena. Sometimes they appear as barbarians, sometimes as orcs or half-orcs, and even among dwarves and goblins, there are many such characters.
However, unlike those minor characters whose average lifespan doesn't exceed three battles, this berserker named Bren has unexpectedly remained resilient and has made it this far.
Through his eyes, which seemed to burn with rage, Thor unexpectedly caught a glimpse of hidden calm.
This guy has begun to learn to control his anger and emotions, which requires not only strong enough strength as a foundation, but also extremely high intelligence and temperament.
Once he can fully achieve this, he will not be far from reaching the threshold of becoming a high-level professional.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the towering berserker strode steadily to the center of the arena, his iron boots digging deep into the sand. He raised his greatsword, tilted his head back, and let out an excited roar.
As the player with the highest score so far, his continuous victories have already built up immense confidence in him, enough to make him fearless of any challenge.
A powerful aura surged from Bren, his deep brown pupils sweeping across the surroundings. Many of the gladiators in the audience involuntarily looked away, as if they dared not meet his gaze.
This scene fueled Bren's emotions, and he roared again.
"Who will be my opponent in the next battle! You cowardly cowards, is there not one of you who dares to step forward!"
"If that's the case, then you should all go back to breastfeeding! Even the underage kids in the tribe are better than you!"
-
The moment the sarcastic words were uttered, they immediately enraged a large number of viewers.
Some powerful spellcasters glanced at the somewhat "small" space below, weighed the pros and cons in their minds, and ultimately decided not to make any rash moves.
But some creatures that came from the wilderness, were inherently chaotic and evil, and had little brains, could not stand such provocation. One two-headed ogre immediately stood up.
Having two heads didn't significantly improve this creature's intelligence; it was only slightly more intelligent than an ordinary ogre.
If Thor remembers correctly, their innate intelligence is around six, with a significant deduction, while the intelligence of a normal ogre is five, comparable to that of a white dragon hatchling.
This behemoth, nearly 4 meters tall, charged down with thunderous footsteps, its two heads perched on its broad shoulders, cursing and arguing indistinctly in a common language.
In its broad palms, it held a huge club covered in grime and rust, over two meters long and as thick as a person's waist, its surface wrapped in a thick layer of iron.
Upon approaching Brun, it didn't waste any words, raising its large club and bringing it down hard.
His natural advantage in size and strength made this strike extremely powerful and heavy; even an ordinary young Bai Long would probably not be able to withstand it.
Bren, who was only a little over two meters tall, naturally did not dare to take the hit head-on. He nimbly dodged the attack and swung his greatsword at the two-headed ogre's ankle.
The two heads on its shoulders allow the two-headed ogre to keep watch from two directions at the same time, making it extremely difficult to be ambushed.
But being able to detect it is one thing, being able to react is another. When the heavy sword ripped through its thick, grayish-green hide, blood gushed out instantly, and the enormous creature lost its balance in excruciating pain.
The ensuing battle was nothing short of a one-sided massacre. While sheer size is an advantage to some extent, if one's defenses aren't up to par, it actually increases the area vulnerable to injury.
The greatsword in Bren's hand was no ordinary weapon; it not only contained a large amount of sparrowstone, but also employed a steel-plating technique, with a layer of refined gold plated on the blade.
The price for all of this was that he invested almost all of the rewards he received from Thor.
And what about that two-headed ogre? After winning the gold coins, it first got itself a heavy giant club. Feeling that was enough, it exchanged all the remaining money for big meals and strong liquor, and spent its days indulging in feasting and drinking.
This is a common problem for most wilderness creatures. Due to their extremely short average lifespan, they often only focus on immediate pleasures and have no long-term plans.
Even if two people are of similar strength, this difference in perception will gradually widen the gap between them. Moreover, the two-headed ogre is weaker than Bren to begin with.
Soon, the tendons in its legs were violently severed, and its massive body crashed down like a mountain of gold and a pillar of jade being overturned.
It braced itself against the ground with its thick arms, and just as it was about to get up again, a crescent-shaped beam of light suddenly slashed down.
Driven by immense force, the sword struck the front of the two-headed ogre's shoulder, and in one fell swoop, both heads rolled off almost simultaneously.
Blood, pumped by its powerful heart, gushed forward nearly ten meters. The mangled body convulsed and struggled for a while before finally going still.
The heavy stench of blood permeated the entire arena. The audience was initially silent, but then erupted into a deafening roar of cheers.
Those who are drawn to the territory of Thor are not peaceful creatures; they are either bloodthirsty by nature or crave power and wealth. Even if there are a few righteous people among them, they dare not show it at this moment.
Bathed in cheers, Brun raised his greatsword once more.
He liked this feeling; only then could he feel his own existence more clearly.
Each victory felt like a trial for a hero, and now, having accumulated 100 victories, he has finally achieved his ultimate ascension.
His still bloodshot brown eyes gazed at the enormous obsidian throne on the other side, where the massive red dragon had slowly straightened up and stomped heavily on its forepaws.
"More than a month has passed, you insignificant human, you are the first creature to accumulate 100 victories, and you are qualified to meet me in person."
As soon as he finished speaking, the soft yellow sand roared violently, and driven by immense magic, sharp stalagmites burst forth from the ground.
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