At that moment, amid the boiling cheers of countless Nucerian citizens.
Several High Riders of the Praetorian Guard swiftly entered the arena and drove you back to the Gladiators' waiting area with silver mechanical tentacles resembling vines.
You refused the brothers and sisters who intended to come forward and attend to you, sitting alone in a corner.
With a slight frown, you shifted your gaze and stared at the metal bracelet embedded around your thick wrist like an ornament.
At that moment, a faint sound that seemingly only you could hear gradually began to echo in your ears.
"...I believe you can hear my call, human," an emotionless mechanical voice said flatly.
"Who are you? Or rather, what are you?" you thought silently, narrowing your eyes instinctively.
Your other hand had already clenched the massive axe. If anything went wrong, you would rather lose half an arm than remain bound to it!
"Time has been so long that I have forgotten my own designation. However, according to the ancient records currently available, I should be an Abominable Intelligence," it continued.
As soon as the words fell.
You suddenly took a deep breath and slowly released the hand that had been gripping the massive axe.
The Gladiators of Nuceria might have been slaves, but that did not mean they had known nothing of the Red Sands before becoming slaves.
They had once told you that ancient technologies like Abominable Intelligence had permeated every aspect of life among Nuceria's Slave Masters and High Riders. The powerful weapons and equipment they used to slaughter Gladiator slaves were special products made by some self-operating entity.
Therefore, you knew what an Abominable Intelligence was and understood its purpose.
"What do you want? Since you chose to contact me, you must be seeking something."
Expressionless, you