He could actually still stand up?!
The Black faction Servants atop the slope watched the beast-like figure forcibly break free from the shackles of earth and stone and stagger back to his feet. They could hardly believe it.
"Oh, oh, I hear the wails of the dead! Countless souls weep of your atrocities! Executioner who tramples this land, I shall use my blade to utterly shatter your oppression!"
Having escaped before everyone's eyes, Spartacus pointed his sword at Vlad the Impaler, who stood elevated among the others, and delivered an impassioned condemnation. Then, igniting the Berserker's innate battle fervor, he gripped his short sword and strode forward.
The hundreds of iron stakes piercing his heart, lungs, joints, and veins, nearly skewering him like a hedgehog, along with the agonizing pain contained within them, could not hinder his movements in the slightest.
On the contrary, the man wore a thoroughly exhilarated smile, as though he were not charging toward a brutal battlefield, but toward a blissful paradise.
"Whoosh, whoosh!"
Seeing the Roman gladiator rapidly close to within a hundred paces, Chiron, who was responsible for long-range suppression, had no time to think. He instinctively drew his bow and fired two arrows at the fast-charging Spartacus.
"Clang!"
"Pfft!"
Spartacus swung his short sword. His instinctive block knocked aside the first arrow, but he could not evade the second, which followed in a flash and struck the socket of his left shoulder.
Though he had landed the shot, Chiron could not help frowning, his expression stiffening slightly.
Because his second arrow had been aimed at Spartacus's head...
The arrow-struck Spartacus merely swayed once before laughing and accelerating forward again.
Chiron repeatedly drew his bowstring, unleashing arrows in rapid succession.
However, this time Spartacus decisively raised his left arm, which had somehow swollen to