Chapter Thirty-Five, Chicks Spreading Their Wings 9
Maybe it’s because it’s located in the south. It’s already autumn, but the Wilderness Valley is still full of vitality and the vegetation is as happy as midsummer.
This is a joyful season.
The scorching heat has become much less intense, and the occasional cool breeze makes the sunshine become gentler.
It is also a happy day.
When the human captives with steel handcuffs and leg irons just entered the arena, people's smiles were flying in the sunshine. Cheers, whistles, high-pitched and sharp screams of females, etc., continued to rise and fall.
This is a small arena.
The sand-covered venue could hold at most two hundred people.
But on the seats on the surrounding fence, people of all races had gathered in a dark circle. Looking around, all kinds of heads were rising and falling.
In the middle of the venue is a stone sculpture, a five-meter-tall naked "Victor".
One hand is holding a long knife, another is holding a hammer, one is holding a skull, and the last one is making a fist and shooting straight into the sky. Even the details of the crotch are carved very realistically. It is magnificent and detailed, with rough lines and
The delicate texture makes people unable to help but admire it, and it is unclear whether it was created by a master carver of that race.
This kind of stone sculpture can be found in every arena in Sin City, the difference is only in size and shape.
Legend has it that this stone sculpture is the ancestor of the Vic people and is the object of sacrifice before every hunt or war.
After the hunting rules for foreigners changed, they moved the images of their ancestors into the gladiatorial arena, supporting their belief in barbaric rules with killing and blood.
Chris, whose hands and feet were shackled, stood in a row with the prisoners, facing the stone sculptures. They were the protagonists today, performing a bloodbath of killing and being killed for the crazy audience.
Four Vidocqs and one human came down from the high platform, their eyes focused on the prisoners, as if they were picking out a piece of cargo.
Yes, goods.
They will select their own gladiators from these captives to delight the senses and earn gold coins.
The killing will begin soon, and the gambling will begin soon. If the gladiator you choose wins, the gold coins will go into your pocket.
Chris was selected by five people at the same time.
Although he is young and not tall or big, his lean body without a trace of fat and the vague scars left by the claw marks of vicious beasts make him stand out from the crowd.
This is an extremely self-disciplined, hard-working and experienced warrior.
The five selectors had this thought in their minds when they saw Chris.
Sin City, which has existed for many years, has long ago proved one thing with facts: in a life-and-death fight in the arena, the person who laughs last is not necessarily the strongest or the biggest, but it must be experience.
The richest.
A female Vidocq became Chris's owner.
She flashed the knife with two hands and took out a few gold coins with the other two hands.
In the barbaric rules of the Vic, this represents a mode of duel or compromise: either take a gold coin and give in, or choose a life-or-death duel.
The other three male Vidocq saw no need to fight for their lives over a prisoner.
And that human noble is not a strong man yet, so he is not even qualified to take away the gold coins.
There were four other people selected by the female Vidocq.
They and Chris were led to the corner of the blue area by a Vic, where there was clean water, fragrant barbecue, and various weapons.
When the five selectors had finished choosing their candidates, there were still a dozen people left in the venue.
They were not selected and stood under the huge stone sculptures, staring blankly at the sarcastic or cruel smiles of the people in the stands.
"Woo...Woo..."
The desolate animal bones were blown by the Vic, and the excitement of the audience was also aroused. Both demihumans and humans were shouting crazily, converging into short and powerful slogans.
"kill!"
"Kill! Kill!"
............
A dozen people who were not selected were surrounded by a small group of heavily armed Vic men.
The killing also began.
The shimmering blade tore through the cool autumn wind and struck the poor boy who was caught off guard, spreading hot blood all over the cold sand.
Desperate, they tried to resist and rushed toward the steel torrent unarmed, and many enchanting red flowers bloomed.
In less than two minutes, the last person lay face up on the sand, holding his throat that had been kissed by the blade. He breathed hard, trying to taste the wonderful air, but everything was in vain.
Slowly, he stopped twitching, and his eyes that lost their vitality were glazed in the sunlight.
The sky is still blue and the autumn wind is still cool.
Click!
The heads of the massacred people were chopped off by the Vic and placed under the stone sculptures with their hair pulled up. Accompanied by the sharp sound from the hollow animal bones and the Vic's blood worship, it reached heaven.
This is the appetizer at the beginning of every gladiatorial battle, a necessary process, which symbolizes the piety of the Vic people's blood sacrifice to their ancestors.
Chris was not watching the carnage on the field, but was choosing weapons.
He ate three pieces of barbecue and drank two bowls of water, making him about seventy full.
Although barbecue is delicious, the impending life and death does not allow for unbridled appetite.
There are many kinds of weapons, including knives, swords, daggers, forks, small bucklers, short-handled axes, long-handled maces, etc., all scattered in a pile. They are all made by the dwarves and are very strong.
Stained with blood and pitted, it was obvious that it had had many owners before and would have more owners in the future.
Chris chose a long knife, which was similar to the one he used before. There were several cuts on the dull blade. There was also a dagger, which was tied to his calf with a piece of cloth. This was the only thing he could place on his body.
A position where it can be easily pulled out.
His four temporary partners chose a single sword, a sword and shield, a hammer and a pair of daggers respectively.
The desolate animal bones finally stopped groaning. As soon as the slaughtered Vic team exited the arena, the huge animal skin drum was beaten.
The gladiator appetizers have been eaten, and it's time to serve the main meal.
Among Chris' temporary partners, the one who chose the hammer was sent out first.
He was very tall, with a broad chest covered with hair, like a bear, and he still had tall muscles after being hungry for more than twenty days.
His opponent was also a big man, but the difference was that he was holding two short-handled axes.
These two bear-like guys were loved by the audience as soon as they appeared, and the huge cheers made the gravel on the field dance.
The reason why they are happy is that the bigger the guy is, the bloodier the fighting pattern will be.
Under the witness of God, the audience's expectations were met.
The guy with the two-handed hammer had one of his hands chopped off first, then disemboweled, and then his head was chopped off with an axe.
He ate too much, and the unchewed roast meat spilled all over the floor.
Alas, you can be regarded as a dead ghost.
The audience was very satisfied. Many males hammered their chests and roared, spilling spirits all over their beards and chests. The females let out cheerful and sharp screams, and tore open their clothes to expose two drooping ellipsoids.
Under the sun, Greedy breathed the cool autumn wind.
The Vic people who are keen on killing and blood are even more excited.
Several of them directly pressed against the female next to them, or were straddled by the female. They yelled and screamed without shying away from other people's eyes, performing the mystery of how the male and female bodies explore.
The victor also seemed pleased with the killing.
He held up two axes and roared at the audience, demonstrating his strength and glory, and possibly congratulating himself that he had survived today.
Soon he was taken down, and the audience needed more blood to delight their senses.
About an hour later, there was only one sword and shield player left beside Chris.
His calf was slashed, and his left hand holding the shield was bleeding, but it was all worth it.
He is still alive.
And his opponent's head has been placed under the stone sculpture.
At this moment, he was lying limply on the ground, panting heavily, and the strong smell of alcohol came out of his mouth.
The winner's reward is a small pot of strong wine and tomorrow's sunshine or raindrops.
Chris hasn't played yet, but it seems that the new hostess Vidocq values him very much, so he puts him in the finale.
There were other people fighting in the center of the field, and the sound of steel colliding kept hitting people's nerves, and the sound was like a knife cutting into people's eyes, red.
Chris's eyes closed early.
Neither the madness in the audience nor the bloodlust on the sand reached his ears.
He was thinking about the Northland at this time, which should be the cold and bleak autumn wind, rather than the warmth and blood that penetrated his nose; he was missing his grandfather Henry's scolding and his father Kafka's soft murmurs, rather than the barbarism.
of carnival.
The sun shines on his straight torso, caressing his young but bearded face, and the cool autumn wind cuts through his hair, filling his heart with peace.
Life is like wine that keeps fermenting.
Good times make the taste mellow, and cruel years make the taste spicy.
Some wines are only mellow, making people drunk without knowing it; some wines are only spicy, making people frown without knowing it, making people choke on tears and runny nose; some wines knead the two flavors into a ball and make people drink it.
It is spicy, mellow when it enters the throat, warms the heart when it enters the stomach, and makes people want to stop. Chris wants to turn his life into the last kind of wine for fate and God to drink together.
Grandma, no matter what I face, I will never lack courage.
He muttered silently in his heart.
I am the hope of Eaton, and I have no reason to give up.