C6 Chapter of Black Iron Beginning

When he noticed it, everything had already been snatched away.

Happiness, pain, sadness, fear; home, friends, family. Everything was lost.

The only thing left was a bellyful of anger. The urge to destroy everything.

Everything no longer mattered. Living was just living.

— — Every day, desperately, for the sake of dying.

How unbearable was that?

In his nightmare, the great god Karma appeared in front of him.

Immovable, speechless.

— — The gods had eight billion arms, and each of these arms held an incomparably sharp blade that could instantly grind a person's flesh into powder. The flame on each blade also carried a hundred billion degrees heat, capable of instantly burning a person's soul to ashes.

The gods look down on all beings, and the gods are cold and unfeeling.

— — The god was a hundred feet tall and could grow infinitely taller. It could shatter a person a thousand times with a single finger, and a single breath could send a person flying thousands of miles.

Standing in front of the God, Arthur was as weak as an ant.

The God waved his arm, his sword smashing down, Arthur rolled and dodged. He was blown dozens of yards by the tornado of the Giant Blade.

The God waved his other arm and sent a sword sweeping over. Arthur leapt high into the air, the Giant Blade swept beneath his feet, the heat of the flames almost scorching him to the ground.

Gods waved their eight billion arms at the same time. The blades rained down like rain, and the fire on the blades was like heavenly fire that blotted out the sky and covered the earth.

The youth rolled, dodged, and crazily ran, trying to survive in the gaps between the sword rain. His speed was as fast as lightning, and his movements were as nimble as a butterfly. The sword rain danced on and on, moving downstream of the storm of death, as if he had already experienced such battles hundreds of millions of times.

The heat of the flames could not burn him, nor could the incomparably sharp blade intimidate him. At this moment, his only strength was the resolution coming from the depths of his soul.

However, humans were still human beings.

No matter how strong a human was, they would always be weak. No matter how strong they became, humans were still no match for the gods.

Not to mention that he didn't have any means of resistance, he couldn't even keep dodging the attacks of a God.

His battle lasted only a few seconds, but it was as long as a century. After dodging tens of thousands of attacks, the youth made a small mistake, causing the challenge to fail.

The blade of the sword had shattered his arm and broken his leg. Having lost his mobility, his body had also been smashed into smithereens.

Thus, once again, the God brought out the Giant Blade, bringing this all to an end.

After the raging flames had subsided, not a single bit of it was left. The youth's soul was completely incinerated into nothingness.

His challenge failed again. His [spirit] was once again reincarnated in the universe — until it came before God once more.

How many times have you come to challenge, foolish human?

You are so small, weak, ignorant, ignorant, and ignorant, you should always struggle at the bottom of the world! Just be stepped on by fate! Why did he still resist?

— — Don't you understand that this is all in vain?

When he woke up in the morning, Arthur found that he was already on the boat. His body was still aching from yesterday's battle, and the shaking of the boat made him want to vomit.

"Huh?" Only then did he feel that his hands were tied behind his back, that something was wrong.

"Oh, awake?" "Do you know what's happening to you?" "

"Please advise me." the teenager Arthur asked weakly, twisting his body and leaning on the boat to sit up, trying to get a better look at his surroundings.

Dense fog, small wooden boat in a sea (lake?) Surface navigation. The surface of the water was as calm as a mirror, except for the waves from the boat. Arthur only felt the surrounding cold weather, but couldn't feel the wetness of the mist. He felt a sense of unreality, [distortion].

The masked man was fully dressed in a black robe and a black cloth bag. His tall stature made him look like an executioner, but also somewhat like a trafficker.

While Arthur was observing the masked man, the other party was also observing the youth's face. He looked at it for a long time before he said slowly, "Hmm, the boy is quite calm." Don't you know that your master has sold you? "

"…." It was indeed Richard's style. If he couldn't obtain it, he would destroy it. Arthur pretended to be indifferent, but he could not hide the anger in his heart. The knight bought back the boy who had once been a slave, and now wanted to sell him somewhere else.

Arthur's life was destined to be full of mishaps. After one disaster ended, he would instantly be drawn into another disaster.

— — What a [wonderful] life.

"Even if you are a slave redeemed by the Order's welfare system, that doesn't mean you can go against your master." The masked man smiled sinisterly. "I advise you to be your master's dog next time." However, I'm afraid you won't have that [next time]. "

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" Even if you kill a small fry like me, there won't be any benefits, okay? Arthur asked tentatively.

He tried to free himself from the rope that bound him, but to no avail. The rope was tied very professionally, and there was not even a bit of movement space on his hands.

A ferocious laughter came from behind the masked man's mask. He had already seen through Arthur's tricks to divert his attention, and now he was mocking the youth with a victorious smile. "Kill you? No need. But you won't live long. The number of people that could come out of the Arena alive could be counted with ten fingers. "

"Arena?" The young man frowned, realizing that things were not as simple as he thought

"Ah, here we are." As soon as the masked man finished speaking, the fog around them dissipated, and the secret plane entered the youth's sight.

The ominous island formed by the jagged rocks towered above the sea, like a demon claw stretching towards the sky.

A huge building stood on the island. It was old and lifeless, and the walls were filled with a strange green atmosphere. The solemn scene seemed to hide the sinister nature of death.

Such an island, such a huge building, there was no reason to remain hidden from the world. Arthur immediately understood that the smoke was a masterpiece of magic. Only if the boat got close enough would the smoke dissipate and the building would appear in front of the visitors.

"Concealment Magic?" Was it necessary to hide a building so painstakingly? Arthur could not help but ask.

"Huh?" This kid knows quite a lot. But you don't know that, do you? The Concealment Magic here is natural, it has existed since billions of years ago. This was the viewing gallery of the gods, the place where they enjoyed watching humans fight each other. This was the Death Arena [Langridoa], the bloody hell of the Gladiators. "

"So that's how it is." No wonder there was the smell of blood. Arthur muttered.

The masked man had long covered Arthur's face with a handkerchief covered with Ecstasy. The youth did not struggle, nor did he have the ability to struggle. He gradually lost consciousness.

In the midst of his confusion, Arthur faintly understood the fate that awaited him.