Warm-up

Sabaody Archipelago, the Slave Arena.

This was a place for the wealthy and nobles to amuse themselves, and at the same time, a nightmare for slaves.

They were sold here by slave traders to participate in brutal death matches.

The losers would be torn apart by beasts, while the winners could only wait for the next match to begin, eventually becoming losers themselves.

Such was the fate of slaves.

Beneath all those cheers, money, laughter, and flowers, what flowed was nothing more than pools of foul, sticky blood...

"Ladies and gentlemen~ Are you ready?!"

Inside the arena, the veteran host stood on the stage, expertly whipping up the atmosphere.

"Today's match will still be narrated by your old friend—that's me!"

"Ooooh!"

"..."

The crowd responded to the host's call, the excitement reaching an unprecedented peak.

"Next up is the usual pre-match warm-up!"

The host waved his hand grandly, signaling the staff inside the arena.

Clank, clank, clank...

As a burly man slowly pulled on an iron chain, the iron gate on one side of the arena was opened, and a dozen figures walked out.

Most of them looked exhausted, staggering as they walked, their mental state extremely poor.

This was inevitable.

After all, every single one of these people had an "explosive collar" locked around their necks, the skin beneath already rubbed raw and bloody.

The so-called "slave collar" was a specially made shackle for slaves, fitted with a bomb. If anyone tried to escape or disobeyed, the slave traders would simply blow their heads off.

Under such restraint, even if terrified, the slaves had no choice but to step onto this deadly arena and become the laughingstock of the spectators.

"Aiya, looks like today's challengers aren't very enthusiastic. Or do they need a little stimulation?"

The host let out a strange laugh, completely ignoring the terrified looks from the slaves, and snapped his fingers toward the iron gate on the other side.

"Then, let's give the warmest applause to welcome today's first 'Hunter'!"

"Oooh!"

"Here it comes!"

"..."

Amidst wave after wave of cheers, the iron gate on the other side was opened.

A massive black shadow slowly emerged from within, accompanied by low growls, and the air filled with a blood-chilling stench.

Under the pull of numerous heavy chains, a giant tiger was led into the arena by several burly men.

Its size was enormous, over ten meters tall, and its body length nearly twenty meters.

Saliva dripped from its sharp fangs, and there was even sticky bloodstains at the corners of its mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a beast from the New World—the Baduwin Tiger!"

As mentioned before.

In all trade, as long as there was profit to be made, someone would always do it.

Capturing fierce beasts from the New World, though dangerous, was far outweighed by the enormous profits it brought!

"ROAR!"

The Baduwan Tiger let out a deafening roar, driving the crowd's cheers even wilder.

"I'm done for..."

Among the group of slaves, a fat uncle in a tattered suit was clutching his head, curling up as much as possible, trembling.

"Damn pirates, they stole my goods—that was everything I had!"

"How did I end up bankrupt..."

"The factory, the house, and the ship, all gone, and now I'm here to pay off my debts..."

The fat uncle muttered, his voice even tinged with tears.

"I'm dead, I'm dead..."

"..."

The other slaves were the same.

They were either ordinary people who had gone bankrupt and fallen on hard times, or they had been captured by pirates or slave traders and sold here.

In other words, the vast majority of this group were completely powerless!

Even if there were some who could fight, like those unlucky pirates or caravan guards, one thing must not be forgotten.

These people had all been caught by slave traders—how could they possibly have the strength to deal with a beast from the New World?

So, they were probably doomed, and in an ugly way at that.

There would be no struggle, and certainly no so-called "spectacle."

But the audience still loved it.

These people had paid a large sum to watch the match, not to appreciate a "fight," but simply to "vent"!

They had to see others suffer, had to see others die!

Only then could they, in this chaotic era, gain a little fleeting pleasure...

Almost all the slaves were trembling, huddled against the iron gate, not daring to move forward.

It was precisely because of this that the "someone" who stood out was so conspicuous.

It was a man draped in a long coat.

He was tall and burly, with no slave collar around his neck. His expression was excited and curious as he looked around.

This kind of person wasn't uncommon.

Probably some hotheaded youth eager to make a name for himself, tricked by the arena officials into coming here to die.

"Alright, sorry for the wait!"

The guards all withdrew, leaving only the Baduwin Tiger and the slaves on the field.

At the host's command, the guards on the high platform released the chains binding the Baduwin Tiger.

Clatter, clatter, clatter...

In an instant, the Baduwin Tiger twisted its body, its massive frame turning as it tore apart the other chains on it, then suddenly opened its mouth wide.

Crunch!

With that, even the shackle restricting its bloody maw was twisted apart.

The Baduwin Tiger's eyes went wide as it felt the hunger in its belly, searching everywhere for its food.

Found it!

It locked its gaze onto the group of slaves, a murderous glint in its eyes.

Its front paws scraped the ground as it let out a series of low growls, already poised to attack, ready to spring!

"..."

The slaves were silent, a heavy pressure weighing down on every one of them.

No one knew who suddenly shouted, "Run!"

In an instant, the Baduwin Tiger and the slaves moved at the same time.

The former charged forward at full speed, while the latter began to scatter in all directions.

But trapped in a massive arena, no matter how fast they ran, where could they go?

The scene gradually descended into chaos.

Seeing this, the atmosphere in the stands grew even more heated, and the host seized the moment to shout:

"Now, let's guess—after ten minutes, how many people will still be alive on the field?"

"Audience members who want to place bets, you may begin!"

"..."

Whoosh!

The Baduwin Tiger swung a claw, slamming heavily into the ground.

The ground instantly caved in, forming a large pit.

Two slaves were right at the edge of the pit; the Baduwin Tiger's claws had almost touched them.

"Th-that was close..."

"Don't freeze, run!"

The two slaves quickly fled, while the Baduwin Tiger turned to chase after others again.

This time, its target was none other than the Fat Uncle who had been the most talkative earlier.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The Baduwan Tiger's claws came down one after another, but the Fat Uncle barely managed to dodge each time.

"Huff, huff... I can't keep this up..."

The Fat Uncle's stamina was running dry, and he prayed inwardly, "That tiger still hasn't hit me. Maybe I still have a chance..."

"Haha!"

A hearty laugh rang out, cutting off the Fat Uncle's train of thought.

As he sprinted, he glanced to the side and spotted a particularly conspicuous figure.

The man turned his head, waved at the Fat Uncle, and said, "Hello, I'm Aiven Lindsey."

The Fat Uncle quickly replied, "Hello, I'm... wait, no!"

The Fat Uncle snapped back to reality and shouted, "Is this really the time for introductions? Run for your life!"

"Ah, actually, there's no need."

Lindsey jogged along leisurely, pointing back at the Baduwan Tiger that was relentlessly chasing them, and explained:

"Felines have a natural instinct to toy with their prey. It could have killed everyone long ago—it's just playing for now."

"Don't say something so terrifying with such a relaxed face!"

The Fat Uncle was on the verge of breaking down.

He was already drowning in extreme fear, but the words of this man beside him somehow kept him from tensing up.

He did not want to die alongside such a baffling man at the end of his life!

But as the two spoke, the Baduwan Tiger seemed to have finally grown bored.

It suddenly accelerated, raising a paw to crush the Fat Uncle.

In that critical moment, Lindsey grabbed the Fat Uncle by the collar and dragged him along as they continued their mad dash.

Seeing the Fat Uncle's bloodless face, Lindsey couldn't help but laugh loudly, "Haha, don't be so tense! Let's play a little longer!"

Fat Uncle: "..."

Crocodile: "..."

Crocodile: "Pull all my funds out."

The arena owner beside him was startled. Following Crocodile's gaze, he spotted Aiven Lindsey and asked in confusion, "You want to bet everything on that man?"

"Yes... no."

Crocodile thought for a moment, then shook his head decisively. "Pull everything out. I'll figure something else out."

"This..."

The arena owner hesitated—it was a lucrative deal for both sides.

But faced with Crocodile's gradually elementalizing body, the owner could only grit his teeth and agree.

Crocodile arranged the funds, then stood up and left without a moment's pause.

He was heading to the harbor to prepare an evacuation vessel.

Why?

Because he had a feeling.

That Primitive Man, Aiven Lindsey—the more fun he was having now, the bigger the mess he was bound to cause later!