The Calm Before the Storm

The gladiatorial match was over. Two gladiators had died, and three were severely wounded. The Bald Man was out of danger, having only passed out.

The audience roared with excitement, cheering for Harrot and the other gladiators. Even the noble lords in the VIP seats applauded and praised them.

"Incredible! No bloodline power, no magic weapons, and only a dozen or so men defeated a Troll!"

"Is that gladiator with the greatsword named Harrot? What astonishing destructive power! Cleon probably can't compare to him, can he?"

"Haha, this was certainly worth it! Such an exciting spectacle has me feeling a bit restless! Hey, arrange a gladiator match for me too! I want to fight Harrot!"

The group of nobles were all astonished by Harrot's strength. Cleon had been famous for a long time and was one of Count Sarik's most capable subordinates; they all knew that. But Harrot had only arrived less than a month ago, and this was truly his first public appearance.

Scarface, standing nearby, ground his teeth in anger. Not only had he failed to kill Harrot, but he had actually allowed him to gain fame and praise from the nobles.

The noble lords' attitude towards this slave surpassed their regard for him, which twisted Scarface's insides. He said in a very low voice, "You lowly slave! I will definitely kill you!"

Aside from The Bald Man's severe injuries and unconsciousness, this punitive battle could be considered a great success. Only two men had died. The last time they dealt with a Troll, over 20 high-level gladiators, all elite gladiators, were dispatched.

That time, more than a dozen had died, and the rest were severely wounded. The reason for such light casualties this time was primarily Harrot and The Bald Man's exceptionally outstanding combat power, as well as the superior quality of their weapons.

The Bald Man's strength was truly formidable. If it weren't for saving that gladiator, the Troll's attacks would have been very difficult to land fully on him.

If The Bald Man had a magical weapon imbued with fire power, so he didn't have to bear the weight of a 60-plus-pound weapon, and could effectively suppress the Troll's regeneration, then it wouldn't be impossible for The Bald Man to single-handedly take on a Troll.

Harrot's main shortcomings compared to The Bald Man were in technique and experience. With the boosts from skills like Power Strike and Running, his physical attributes were actually not weaker than The Bald Man's.

Harrot stood blankly by The Bald Man's sickbed, deep in thought. The Bald Man had always been his master and elder brother figure; ever since he woke up, he had been cared for by The Bald Man.

The Bald Man trained him, taught him swordsmanship, and did his best to help him gain freedom. He was absolutely Harrot's greatest benefactor since he transmigrated.

Harrot thought of Count Sarik and felt a little disappointed. This Count hadn't visited even once after The Bald Man was injured and unconscious!

He hadn't stopped The Bald Man from entering the arena to fight, and when The Bald Man was sent flying by a Troll's punch, his life hanging by a thread, he hadn't intervened in the match's progress either.

Harrot understood that the Count only regarded The Bald Man as a tool. He was a high and mighty Count, and it was impossible for him to genuinely care much for The Bald Man. Harrot just felt that The Bald Man deserved better.

After The Bald Man fell unconscious, Scarface alone was responsible for the Gladiatorial Arena's operations. The Bald Man's promise to Harrot about a final gladiatorial match also went unfulfilled.

Scarface sent someone to inform Harrot that he was to participate in a gladiator match tomorrow to please the noble lords.

Harrot could only accept this. The Bald Man wasn't awake, and he had no right to oppose the arena's manager. Although the nobles thought highly of Harrot, they weren't in a hurry to win him over.

Because he was a slave of the Gladiatorial Arena, it was only when Count Sarik explicitly stated he no longer wanted him that they would extend an olive branch.

Count Sarik believed it would be better for The Bald Man to approach and recruit Harrot once he woke up. So, even though Harrot had already demonstrated extraordinary value, he could only continue to be a gladiator.

Harrot thought for a long time before going to sleep that night. Tomorrow's match should just be an exhibition, but the key was his future afterward.

After The Bald Man woke up, he would definitely introduce him to Count Sarik, and Count Sarik would likely be happy to have another top enforcer.

But Harrot himself was unwilling. He didn't want to be Count Sarik's dog!

He wanted to make a name for himself, gain honor, and create his own glory! Becoming Count Sarik's subordinate would truly mean being a subordinate for life!

But he was just a slave. Could he refuse the recruitment of Count Sarik, the owner of the Gladiatorial Arena?

Although he was unwilling to be ordinary, he had been terrified during the fight with the Magical Beasts, coming within an inch of death. The battle with the Troll also made him feel his own smallness and powerlessness. He wasn't that strong!

Harrot felt a bit hesitant, a little weary. He couldn't muster the courage to refuse the Count's recruitment. Harrot didn't understand how he should proceed on his path.

His dreams were very distant, and the path to achieving them was fraught with difficulties!

Harrot fell into a deep sleep and had another dream.

In his dream, he was a town militia captain. He had a wife who wasn't beautiful but was very virtuous, and they had two children, a boy and a girl.

There were no passionate battles, no thrilling adventures. His daily work simply involved dealing with petty thugs and handling unscrupulous merchants.

After work, he would go to the tavern to have a few drinks with The Bald Man, then return home to his wife and children.

When he woke up, Harrot noticed the smile on his lips. He suddenly realized that a simple, happy life actually didn't seem so bad.

Eight wives, Dragon Slayer, and a noble title for his territory no longer held such strong appeal.

After waking up, Harrot went to the infirmary to see The Bald Man again. He was now almost unsupervised by the guards, who all knew that Harrot would soon be favored by a noble, just like The Bald Man.

The Bald Man's condition had improved significantly, and it looked like he would wake up soon. Harrot was completely relieved.

Someone informed him to report to the Gladiatorial Arena entrance for standby; it was almost his turn to enter the arena.

Harrot casually took his position, wondering who his opponent would be.

Some random cannon fodder? Probably not, that would be too perfunctory. The noble lords would fall asleep.

A Magical Beast? No way. I'm a valuable asset now. Would the arena really let me die?

It must be some unlucky official gladiator. I'm in a good mood, so I'll try to go easy and spare your life!

Harrot thought lightheartedly. Unfortunately, reality often turns out to be unexpected, always pushing people to their limits!

The announcer's passionate shouts echoed throughout the arena. He excitedly roared out the main event of the day:

"Today, our God of War, Harrot, will single-handedly challenge a monster from the wilderness, an Ogre!"

After hearing the announcer's words, Harrot's mind went blank as he walked numbly towards the Gladiatorial Arena.

A large iron gate in the distance opened, and a terrifying monster, slightly smaller than a Troll, emerged.

"An Ogre, the ruler of the wilderness, possessing astonishing strength! Its full-power swing with a club can crush any enemy into pulp!"

Harrot stood alone in the center of the Gladiatorial Arena, looking up at the sky, then at the roaring Ogres. It felt somewhat surreal. Was he really going to face this monster alone? This had to be a joke, right?

In the VIP section, the noble lords watched the arena with great interest. Scarface smirked maliciously from the side.

Although a few noble lords had recognized Harrot's strength, he wasn't their man yet, so it wasn't too much of a loss to them.

Count Sarik was a little conflicted. He already considered Harrot his property, and if Harrot died in battle, it would be his loss. This Scarface had unilaterally arranged such a fight; he definitely had to die!

Just then, The Bald Man, bandaged and newly awakened, rushed into the VIP section. He knelt on one knee before Count Sarik, bowing his head as he pleaded:

"My lord, it's too dangerous for Harrot to face the Ogres alone. I beg you, please stop this match immediately!"

Seeing The Bald Man interfering, Scarface immediately cursed, "The gladiatorial match has already begun! If you stop it, you'll be breaking the rules! With so many noble lords watching, do you want to shame the Gladiatorial Arena?"

The Bald Man didn't retort; he simply looked earnestly at Count Sarik. The Count was in charge of the Gladiatorial Arena, and as long as he wished it, stopping the match wouldn't be a problem.

Count Sarik hesitated for a moment before replying, "Cleon, you must have faith in Harrot. He can defeat the Ogres!"

"If you make me stop the match now, people will think Harrot is a coward, a faint-hearted wimp who's afraid to face the Ogres. All his previous glory from defeating Magical Beasts and Trolls will be ruined!"

"At the same time, it will also damage my reputation. In front of so many common spectators and noble guests, if I violate the rules and save someone out of favoritism, the loss will be irreparable!"

"Even so, do you still insist on stopping this gladiatorial match?"

Upon hearing Count Sarik's words, The Bald Man lowered his head. But the moment he thought of Harrot's unhesitating agreement to challenge the Trolls with him, his resolve immediately firmed.

The Bald Man lifted his head with determination, pleading, "My lord, I beg you, Harrot is a very promising man, and he's my brother. It would be such a shame for him to die like this. Please, save his life!"

Count Sarik was stunned for a moment. What he had said earlier seemed to be an explanation of the pros and cons, but it was actually a clear refusal. He hadn't expected The Bald Man to continue to pester him against his wishes.

He had actually hesitated about whether to stop the match. Harrot was exceptionally skilled, and it would be a pity for him to die. But with so many nobles present, eagerly wanting to see the match, he was reluctant to lose face by calling it off.

The Bald Man's plea here instead solidified Count Sarik's decision not to stop the match. It was simple: if he granted The Bald Man's request, then Harrot's gratitude afterward wouldn't be for him, but for The Bald Man.

The reason Count Sarik appreciated common subordinates like The Bald Man and Harrot was because they were loyal and cheap.

They didn't need land as a reward, nor fame or fortune. All it took was lending them a hand when they were down to earn their gratitude and completely exploit their value.

The Bald Man's request made him lose the chance to use Harrot for free. To keep Harrot now would likely require promising many benefits, which made losing face to save him even less worthwhile.

After calculating it clearly, Count Sarik sternly reprimanded The Bald Man: "Cleon! Don't mistake your place. I haven't even settled the score with you for insisting on personally fighting the Trolls before, and now you want to interfere with the Gladiatorial Arena's operations?"

"You must have just woken up and aren't thinking straight! I won't hold your offense against you. You'd best go wash your face and calm down first!"

The Bald Man tried to say more, but The One-Armed Man grabbed him and pulled him away.

Given The Bald Man's strength, even with his injuries not fully healed, The One-Armed Man, who only had one arm, shouldn't have been able to pull him.

What pulled The Bald Man away was his own sorrow and disappointment.

"Should I really not stop the fight? Although the Ogres aren't as strong as Trolls, they're not something one person can defeat! Is glory more important than life?"

"Was I wrong? Or… did I misjudge Count Sarik? No, that's impossible. Count Sarik is definitely not an ordinary nobleman. He is benevolent, wise, and kind!"

"But, but why has he never once taken my advice?! Harrot is going to die! Why won't he stop the match?!"

The Bald Man could only stand at the entrance to the arena, watching the match unfold, unable to offer Harrot any help.