Colosseum

"Wake up."

"Wake up."

The call that Qin Xa had dispelled during his second awakening echoed in his ears once more. His consciousness gradually returned, and his eyes slowly opened.

What came into view was a stone ceiling.

Beneath him was a cold stone slab bed.

Qin Xa turned his head and saw a middle-aged man who, by mortal standards, was extremely burly, his body as large and sturdy as a bear.

The middle-aged man was stroking his gray beard, sitting in the corner of this cold metal room. Upon discovering that Qin Xa had awakened and was watching him, a look of utter astonishment appeared on his face.

He then hurriedly stood up, turned around, picked up a cup filled with murky liquid from a dilapidated stone table, and handed it to Qin Xa with an eager expression.

This series of actions and expressions demonstrated the concern and friendliness of this man, who was as strong as a bear.

Although Qin Xa could not understand a word the man said as he handed over the cup, he could see that this bear-like man possessed a kind heart.

Vaguely, Qin Xa's psyker talent also confirmed this judgment of the man before him.

"I don't understand what you're saying." Qin Xa pointed to his own ears and then shook his head.

But he had a way to understand the language of this person, and indeed, everyone else.

"Please, sit down." Qin Xa said.

Although his words could not possibly be understood by the man, his tone and body language conveyed his gentle attitude and his request. In a situation where languages were not shared, speech was merely a habit.

As Qin Xa patted the floor in front of him, the bear-like, friendly middle-aged man sat down, looking puzzled.

The two sat facing each other.

Qin Xa raised his right arm, pointed at it with his left hand, and looked at the man with an inquisitive gaze.

The latter's expression and eyes were equally confused, but he could sense that Qin Xa was likely a gentle person, so he raised an eyebrow and nodded in bewilderment.

Qin Xa placed his hand on the man's head.

"My lord."

As Qin Xa began to search his memory for what he would need, a conversation echoed in his ears.

It was a conversation he had with a Librarian from the White Scars Chapter.

"If we need to communicate with the locals while on a mission, but the Imperial official language hasn't spread there, what should we do?"

This was Qin Xa's question.

"You overthink things. There is no need to worry about translation; we have plenty of ways. Whether it's translation devices, guides, or, if absolutely necessary, eating brains—though don't do that unless you have no other choice."

This was the Librarian's answer.

The Librarian then added: "I can teach you a method belonging to us psykers, if that will put your mind at ease regarding this issue."

Qin Xa recalled that conversation and the method the Librarian had described.

It was a method similar to reading minds.

A psyker's talents are different, and the specialties brought about by those talents in certain fields also differ.

Some psykers are skilled in divination, while others are born with the ability to read the minds of others.

Qin Xa could not read minds. In fact, he did not even know in which field his own psyker talent possessed a specialty, but he could learn; his ability to learn was very strong.

As the mutual desire for communication between the two sitting face-to-face was traced and utilized, combined with the extremely close physical contact, Qin Xa read the portion of the man's mind related to communication.

Every sentence the man had ever spoken from childhood to the present, every word he had learned—these were extracted as specific memory fragments for Qin Xa to comprehend.

And so, Qin Xa learned the local language.

"You can tell I am not a local." Qin Xa moved his hand away, stood up, and performed the Aquila sign to the man. "Thank you for the trust, friendliness, and cooperation you showed during our first meeting. Otherwise, I would not have been able to master your local language."

"I can also tell you are a sorcerer." The man stood up and shook his head with a smile. "No need for thanks. We gladiators must help each other; otherwise, we wouldn't survive even half a day in this hellhole."

Qin Xa nodded and looked at the man again.

"Oenomaus." The man introduced himself.

Upon hearing this name, Qin Xa tilted his head slightly. He found the name so familiar that he fell into deep thought, forgetting to tell the man his own name.

Perhaps this was not the first time Ono had encountered someone who seemed unwilling to reveal their name, or perhaps he empathized deeply with the wariness of those trapped in such dire straits, so he did not press for the man's name, simply turning around and signaling for Qin Xa to follow.

The two left the cave-like room and arrived in a much larger cavern.

Men and women in tattered clothing were scattered throughout the cave. Some looked at Qin Xa's physique with wariness and curiosity, some cast friendly glances, while others directed gazes of bloodthirsty hatred toward him.

"I was surprised when you first woke up because you are the only one who has been able to wake up within a day after being drugged and brought here."

"You couldn't understand our language before, so the slaver gang that brought you here probably couldn't tell you why you were captured."

Ono walked in front, arriving at a barred window in the northern part of the cave.

"This is the arena. We are all slaves captured to fight in the gladiatorial games."

"..."

Qin Xa did not take in a single word of what Ono said; he was lost in thought, pondering the questions inside his own head.

That he was the only one capable of waking up within a day of being drugged... Qin Xa was not surprised. He had long since discovered that whenever he fell into a deep sleep, there would always be a voice calling him to wake up, even if it were just for a short nap.

As for this place.

After the anesthetic took effect, and after he touched the slaver's belongings and saw the prophecy, he instantly understood where he was and what he was about to face.

This was a place called Nuceria.

The Nucerians were extremely fond of gladiatorial combat, and they would capture slaves to send into the arena.

The caravan he had encountered earlier was a professional slaver outfit that captured people to send into the arena.

As for why the anesthetic would work on an Astartes... let alone an Astartes, even a Primarch would be knocked unconscious if hit with Nucerian anesthetic.

Qin Xa did not care about the things Ono was saying; there were only two questions he needed answered right now.

One: Oenomaus. The name sounded familiar, but he just couldn't recall where he had heard it.

Two: He had already killed the slaver party he encountered earlier, so how exactly did he end up being sent to the arena?

In the moment he lost consciousness, Qin Xa had still hoped that when he woke up, he would be back on the wasteland, rather than waking up directly inside the arena.

"I can't believe that someone as strong as you, who is also a psyker, was captured by a slaver party whose members didn't even have a single scratch on them," Ono said.

"Perhaps that slaver party just got lucky," Qin Xa shrugged.

There was no need to obsessively delve into this question.

Qin Xa walked over to Ono's side and stood before the iron grate to look outside.

Outside was the arena.

The massive arena seemed to have no end in sight, with spectators sitting in the stands surrounding the center of the arena, cheering.

And in the area at the center of the arena, isolated by energy walls, a gladiatorial match was taking place.

Qin Xa's gaze was instantly drawn to one of the gladiators.

It was a boy who looked quite young, though he was already very tall; the only thing that made him look young was the expression of terror and panic on his face.

"Angron," Qin Xa murmured the name.