Chapter 93: The Arena

Chapter 93: The Arena

Has this male's mind gone awry?!

This was the unanimous thought of nearly every insect present. The Saint Teran Arena was a gathering place for slaves, where almost every match saw bloodshed. Broken limbs were common, and it wasn't unheard of for opponents to snap each other's necks in more severe cases. It was an open yet gray area within the empire.

Insects were naturally warlike, and these bloody gladiatorial contests had always been met with their fervent enthusiasm. However, nobles, maintaining their status, refused to visit those filthy underground fighting rings, making the Saint Teran Arena their preferred choice.

Would the matches watched by nobles be more refined?

No, under the absolute power and temptation of money, they only brought about even more brutal slaughter.

Those participating were either criminals who had committed grave offenses or desperate mad dogs from the slums. They would do anything for the massive prize of millions of star coins. Was Amber insane to want to compete?!!

The waiter's eyes widened in shock as he stammered, "C-compete?! Sir, are you sure you want to participate in the arena's competition?!!"

He clearly saw that the gender column on Amber's citizen ID was filled out as male, his wrist trembling so much that he almost dropped it. "There has never been a case of a male registering to fight in the Saint Teran Arena. Don't you think you should reconsider?"

Was this male mad, dressed neatly and handsome, able to live a decent life by simply hooking up with a powerful female? Why would he want to enter the arena, where even the weakest contestant on the rankings could crush him with a single finger.

Even the Third Prince was momentarily stunned, surprised and advising, "Sir Amber, are you being... too... impulsive?"

He probably wanted to say foolish, but refrained due to propriety. He had initially thought that Amber had gained some sense when he came to apologize last time, but now realized he was still just an empty shell, a disappointment he couldn't hide.

While Amber would sometimes rely on external forces under duress, seeing the signs, even the male accompanying him seemed brainless. The Third Prince's faction was clearly a murky circle, unsuitable to get involved in.

Perhaps there was another, more significant reason. The Third Prince's gentle smile always reminded Amber of his brother from his previous life, the one who had defeated him in the struggle for power. Although the other had long been confined to his mansion by the late emperor until his death, Amber still felt... an unusual loathing whenever he remembered.

"Being impulsive might not be bad, after all, the arena isn't suitable for too calm insects?"

Amber smiled slightly, politely answering his words before following the waiter to register for the competition. After he left, the group behind the Third Prince suddenly burst into a deafening laughter, with Jerin laughing the hardest, tears almost streaming down his face:

"Hahahaha, what did I just hear? Amber, that fool, is actually going to participate in the gladiatorial games?! He used to be just stupid, but now he's stupid enough to seek his own death?!"

"The empire shouldn't classify males by their purity, but by their intelligence. Amber must have hit his head when he hatched, dropping his IQ to the lowest D-grade."

The Third Prince said nothing, merely shaking his head slightly, but it wasn't hard to see that he disapproved. "Stop laughing, let's go in."

The Saint Teran Arena had always been synonymous with hell. The inner field was in a stepped circular shape, supported by two hundred and one columns carved with totems of giant beasts. The lighting was dark and black, with only a round spotlight shining on the center of the venue, the place where the gladiators would soon fight.

The best view was from the second floor near the railing. The Third Prince's and Fourth Prince's private boxes were conveniently located on opposite sides of the circular venue. Their gazes briefly collided in the air, smiling faces belying the palpable tension.

As guests gradually took their seats, half of the overhead lights went out, many ambiguous gazes lost in the dimness. Those nobles sank into chairs lined with velvet, their variously colored eyes and hair displaying arrogance and coldness, but more than that, a disregard for life, waiting with the attitude of watching a show for the upcoming bloody battle.

They were like packs of wolves with glowing eyes in the darkness, or more like a colony of vampires, craving blood, craving slaughter.

Ludwig rarely came to such places, but the boss behind the Saint Teran Arena wielded considerable power. During the annual celebration, invitations were sent to the nobility, and everyone would give them some face. Leaning against a red velvet chair with golden edges, his eyes slightly lowered, he idly played with an engraved golden identity badge, his thoughts unknown.

After a while, he crossed his legs, adjusting his posture, the sound of his black military boots making a slight noise in the darkness.

Ludwig occasionally raised his eyes to look around, his gaze sweeping carelessly over the densely packed seats, as if searching for someone, but didn't see that familiar face, frowning inwardly.

The host on stage held the microphone, his voice passionate and enthusiastic, yet strangely making the insects drowsy. Only some warlike individuals were roused with excitement.

Meanwhile, Amber had already registered as a contestant, following the waiter through a side passage into the backstage area of the competition. As soon as he stepped into the dim room, he felt as if he had entered a cave inhabited by beasts, a suffocating pressure overwhelming him.

The walls of the backstage rest area were painted red, but the lighting was a dark green. Under such extreme color contrast, those sitting on the narrow corridor waiting to participate in the competition resembled a distorted and wild painting. They were shirtless, their muscular bodies harboring boundless explosive power, their fierce faces akin to failed evolutionary specimens, even bearing fangs that shouldn't exist.

The air was thick with the smell of blood, sweat, and rotting flesh. Even the waiter covered his nose when he entered.

"Sir, there has never been a case of a male competing in the Saint Teran Arena. If something happens to you, we can't take responsibility. The manager has also declined. Here is a ticket for a front-row seat inside. You can watch from below later."

The waiter knew that Amber had registered for the competition merely to gain access to the inner field. After reporting the matter to the higher-ups of the arena, they didn't want any trouble and simply granted him a seat ticket.

How should one describe it? It was quite insect-friendly.

Amber smiled as he accepted the seat ticket, waving it in his fingers. "Thank you."

It would have been easier if it was handled this way earlier.

With that, he lifted the curtain and walked toward the spectator seats, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over a strong female sitting in the corner. Her head was lowered, her face unclear, her light chestnut hair slightly curled, her sandbag-sized fists wrapped in white bandages, revealing a snake tattoo faintly visible at the base of her palm.

His gaze shifted downward, noticing the competition number plate hanging at her waist, marked number 7.

Amber's eyes flickered for a moment before he turned and left.

The first few rows of the spectator seats were usually unoccupied. After all, no one wanted to be splattered with blood and brains while watching the match. Amber walked to his seat in the dim light, a few scattered staff members responsible for filming seated around him.

"Let's give a warm welcome to the contestants! Number One, Mad Bull Bigg versus Number Five, Executioner Shari!! The outcome of the battle will be randomly selected by the machine. Both the spectators inside and outside the arena can start placing bets!"

Accompanied by the host's impassioned voice, a pale blue virtual screen suddenly popped up in front of Amber's eyes, displaying the results of the two contestants' matches over the past three months and their popularity. Bets started at ten thousand star coins, with no upper limit.

Amber hadn't linked his private insect account to the Saint Teran Arena, so he couldn't place a bet. He only heard a flurry of discussions behind him as the nobles debated whom to bet on. The odds on the virtual screen changed constantly due to the rising amounts, even the cameraman beside him was hesitating:

"Darn it, why do I always have to make these damned choices? I've saved up for so long to accumulate ten thousand star coins. Should I bet on Bigg or Shari?!"

"Shari! His lock moves are always impressive. Bet on Shari to win!"

Just as they were arguing, a low and steady voice suddenly sounded beside them. "Bigg will win."

The cameraman subconsciously looked over, finding the insect speaking sitting nearby. Due to the dim lighting, his face was unclear, giving off an inexplicable sense of mystery. "Hey, Shari has created a record of eight consecutive victories!"

Amber lowered his eyes indifferently. "That's because he hasn't encountered his natural enemy yet."

Upon hearing this, the cameraman hesitated for a moment. His finger trembled, accidentally touching the betting button for Bigg. Realizing what happened, he immediately clutched his head in frustration. "Oh my god! I must have had my head stuck in the mud! How could I listen to your nonsense?!"

The next moment, the arena echoed with the host's voice:

"Betting is closed. The match—begins!"

When the match bell rang and the host retreated to the side of the stage, the two contestants immediately rushed at each other like mad dogs, biting into each other. Yes, biting, not fighting. They had no fancy moves, only a pure contest of flesh and strength, colliding heavily like two raging bulls, as the arena echoed with the excited cheers of the audience:

"Go Bigg!!! Ram him! Crush him!"

"Shari! Rip his head off! I bet one million star coins on you!! Damn it, you can't lose!!"

Amber sat below the stage, clearly hearing the sound of the contestants' bones breaking upon impact, but they fought on as if they felt no pain, charging at each other repeatedly. Finally, a heart-wrenching scream sounded, as the mad bull Bigg tore off one of Shari's arms and threw him heavily off the stage.

"Whoosh—!!"

The cheers reached a fever pitch at that moment. The fresh, hot blood gushed out instantly, splattering like raindrops onto the arena, becoming the best nourishment for the killer. The host held up Bigg's hand toward the sky and shouted in an exhilarating voice: "In the first round, the mad bull Bigg wins!!!"

Amber smiled faintly, clapping along with everyone else. He saw Shari being thrown off the stage like garbage, the broken arm picked up by a staff member. After the cleaning function was activated, the blood from before was instantly washed away, restoring cleanliness once again.

Their lives were merely entertainment for the upper class, truly pitiful.

There were fourteen core contestants in this gladiatorial match. After the first round, seven advanced, and another was selected based on points from the defeated contestants to participate in a revival match. After the second round, four more advanced. This process repeated until the third round, when only two contestants remained on the stage.

Contestant number seven, Viper White, was the same waiter who had seemingly poisoned Amber's drink that day.

Contestant number nine, Black Rhino Dean, a strong female bug with dark skin.

With just one glance, Amber knew that number seven had a high chance of winning. Not only was the opponent ruthless, but their mind remained calm even after being stimulated by blood. This calmness was enough to make them stand out among a group of beasts that had lost their minds.

The stakes were highest for the third match, with the highest odds. As the two contestants fought to the death, the audience inside the venue had already hoarsened their voices, the sound deafening. And as Amber expected, number seven emerged victorious.

The host raised White's hand toward the sky, as countless golden confetti rained down from above the venue: "Oh my god! Oh my god! Let's congratulate contestant number seven, Viper White!! He not only won the match but also received a huge prize of one million star coins!! One million!!"

White had a snake tattoo on his wrist, indicating he was a slave criminal. Slave criminals could not engage in any legitimate work on Aliga Star. It was unknown how he had appeared as a waiter at the auction house. At this moment, having won the match, he lifted his head amidst the falling golden confetti, emotions such as smugness, arrogance, debauchery, and aimlessness flashing through his eyes, all eventually drowned out by the cheers.

Just as the excitement around them began to subside and the match was about to conclude, a figure sitting in the front row of the venue slowly raised their right hand. Their slender fingertips held a contestant identity card. Their voice was neither loud nor soft, but due to the special echo design of the venue, many bugs heard their deep voice:

"It seems you've overlooked one of the contestants. I wonder if I have the honor of going up on stage to spar with contestant number seven?"

Eight large screens were set up above the venue. When Amber spoke, both the host and White instinctively looked in his direction. A beam of light followed, illuminating the male bug sitting in the shadows.

Amber slightly raised his gaze, and his flawless face, without a single blemish, appeared on the massive broadcast screen, causing the audience to collectively gasp. Despite the surrounding blood and filth, he resembled a handful of cold, pristine snow, his gaze indifferent, captivating even without emotion.

The camera pulled back slightly, revealing his distinct right hand holding a number plate, which clearly read 15.

The host was stunned for a moment, never having encountered such a situation. He subconsciously looked toward the director behind him, seeing the latter frantically gesturing. Instantly understanding, he cleared his throat and began stabilizing the situation: "Ahem, sir, the contestants for this match were determined by machine drawing. If there happened to be a loophole, it is possible. But now that the winner has been decided, it's not convenient to add another match. Saintelan Arena will have another match next month. You can look forward to that..."

Before he could finish, the audience, who were there for the spectacle, interrupted him: "Since there's only one contestant left, it doesn't matter if he fights. Let him fight! Let him fight!"

"Yeah, let him fight!"

"Go! Go! Go!"

Many spectators in the venue had placed incorrect bets. Although the lost money couldn't be recovered, it was still entertaining to stir up trouble and watch the chaos. The host couldn't suppress the overwhelming shouts from the audience and was forced to go backstage to consult with the higher-ups for a few minutes. Moments later, he returned, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Bug gods, he had worked at Saintelan Arena for over a decade, and this was the first time he had encountered a male bug participating in a match. The world had gone mad!

Despite his inner rant, the host had to announce the additional match with a smile: "Ladies and gentlemen, due to a loophole in the drawing system, a registered contestant was unable to participate. After discussion by the organizers, it has been decided to hold a temporary match between contestant number seven, White, and contestant number fifteen, Amber! Both in-venue and online spectators can begin placing bets!"

This was probably the least suspenseful match in the history of Saintelan Arena. On one side was a professional fighter who lived by the edge of the blade, and on the other was a pampered male bug. After the virtual screen popped up, almost everyone overwhelmingly bet on White to win.

"Is he crazy?!"

When Ludwig saw Amber's face appear on the screen, he instinctively sat up straight in shock. His brows furrowed, his thin lips pursed into a straight line, his voice low and dangerous: "Saintelan Arena is playing with fire. Who allowed them to ignore the male protection laws and let Amber participate in the match?!"

General Lusuti stroked his chin curiously: "It seems that Lord Amber requested to participate himself? Oh, I'm really curious about what's going on in his head. It's more intriguing than exploring the universe."

"He's courting death!"

Ludwig kicked away the coffee table, looking as if he was about to get up and leave, but was grabbed by Prince Zach's wrist: "Ludwig, sit down. The organizers won't let anything happen to the male. It's most likely just for show. There's no need for you to get involved in this mess."

General Lusuti was also curious: "Exactly, you've already annulled your engagement. Why do you care so much about him?"

Ludwig was momentarily speechless when he heard this. He slowly exhaled, his face darkening as he sat back down: "I'm worried that he'll die in the arena, and then those damn guys in the capital will say I'm a husband-killer!"

General Lusuti patted his shoulder, kindly consoling his brother: "It's okay. You've already killed two. One more won't make a difference."

Ludwig: "..."