Familiar with My Strength

The training ground was quite large, with various dummies and wooden stakes scattered around. At one edge, there was a weapon rack piled with wooden weapons.

Harrot didn't rush to pick up a weapon and start training. His Agility had increased from 4 to 8, and he wanted to get accustomed to the significant boost in his physical attributes first.

Finding an open space, Harrot swiftly darted left and right, ran back and forth, and performed squats and rolls. His 8 Agility and Lv2 Running skill were even better than he'd imagined; every movement felt effortless, and his body responded with perfect control.

While he couldn't achieve the acrobatic feats of his past life, "simple" movements like front and back flips were no problem at all.

Several gladiators nearby watched Harrot's movements with some surprise. They'd seen strong bodies and agile bodies, but rarely both simultaneously. It was truly unusual to see a two-meter tall, muscular man agilely rolling and sidestepping.

At this moment, Harrot's combat ability was practically doubled compared to the original Harrot. The original Harrot not only had low Agility but also wasn't very intelligent. His movements were incredibly sluggish; he'd often stare blankly as prey ran past him for a good while before finally pouncing, showing tendencies of a developmentally delayed child.

Now, Harrot had 8 Agility and 9 Intelligence, which greatly compensated for his shortcomings, allowing him to fully unleash the inherent brute strength of this body.

After testing his body's flexibility, Harrot prepared to test his offensive capabilities, which couldn't be done empty-handed.

He walked over to the weapon rack, looking at the wooden swords, shields, and spears of various sizes. Harrot considered what weapon to use. Most gladiators in the arena used a sword and shield, though some preferred a spear and shield or the more brutal two-handed greatsword.

Spears felt unfamiliar and weren't primarily strength-based weapons. A sword and shield, on the other hand, weren't violent enough and felt too mediocre.

He had inherited the original Harrot's body, which was extraordinary. Not only did he have a thick HP bar, but also the "+10 Golden Bell Shield" provided by the system's equipment slot. His damage resistance was top-notch, so he probably didn't need a shield. He'd specialize in greatswords!

Due to weapon proficiency, Harrot wanted to specialize in one weapon as much as possible. However, to be safe, he didn't immediately put all 80 points of weapon proficiency into two-handed weapons. What if he simply wasn't cut out for greatswords?

Harrot picked out a heavy, sturdy greatsword from the pile of weapons, swung it a few times, and nodded. "This is it."

The greatsword was 1.7 meters long in total. Since it was a wooden sword, its weight was average, but it felt quite comfortable to wield.

Harrot walked to a wooden stake, closed his eyes, and recalled the basic moves the original owner had learned from the militiamen. After a few minutes of thought, he opened his eyes. He had essentially remembered all the key points. Militiamen naturally didn't teach any profound techniques, and the original Harrot's brain couldn't remember anything too difficult anyway.

Harrot took a deep breath, then abruptly stepped forward, initiating the movement from his waist. He unleashed most of his body's power, and with a loud roar, swung the greatsword, savagely hacking into the wooden stake in front of him.

CRACK! Harrot directly buried the wooden sword deep into the stake. When he pulled it out, it left a gash 5-6 centimeters deep. 20 Strength combined with Lv4 Power Strike created terrifying destructive power.

The training ground's wooden stakes were solid, sturdy wood. Most people, no matter how hard they struck, would only leave small scratches. No one had ever chopped a third of a stake off like Harrot did. Immediately, many gladiators cast curious glances his way.

"That guy has so much strength! Who is he?"

"Never seen him before, must be new. Hope I don't run into him later; I don't like fighting monsters like that!"

"I don't want to fight someone who relies on brute strength either. One hit from him and you'd be out for at least half a month!"

A group of gladiators chatted among themselves, watching Harrot train alone.

"Old man, do you know him? Where's that guy from? I don't remember such a formidable person when I was in prison. He's not from prison, is he?"

The man referred to as "old man" was far from truly old, perhaps in his early fifties at most, but in a place like the arena, that was considered advanced in age.

The 'old man' shook his head and said, "I don't recognize him either. He's probably a master brought in from outside by the higher-ups. Just don't know if he's easy to get along with."

"How about I go test him out? If he's friendly, we'll bring him over. If not, we'll teach him a lesson so he doesn't get too arrogant."

A well-built man said eagerly, his eyes fixed on Harrot, his fists, big as sandbags, clenching and cracking.

"No, he doesn't look easy to deal with. Don't conflict with him. I'll go talk to him first and see what he's about."

The old man shook his head, stopping the well-built man. After all, Harrot's explosive physique combined with that brutal strike earlier was quite intimidating. He didn't seem like a soft target that could be easily manipulated. It was always better to talk things out and build a good relationship than to become enemies.

Harrot paid no attention to the onlookers, excitedly feeling the magical effects of Lv2 Weapon Mastery.

Harrot felt as if he had some kind of connection with the greatsword in his hands. The greatsword had become an extension of his body. Wielding it felt incredibly precise and flexible; he could even hit exactly where he aimed with his eyes closed.

Lv2 Weapon Mastery didn't increase any Strength or Speed, but it significantly boosted Harrot's overall power. Previously, using a greatsword was quite strenuous, especially continuous attacks, which would consume a lot of stamina and lead to temporary exhaustion.

However, under Lv2 Weapon Mastery, Harrot felt the greatsword become easier to swing with each cut, and its power grew stronger. After six consecutive swings, he even felt the greatsword moving on its own, requiring only a slight adjustment of his attacking direction.

And this was only Lv2 Weapon Mastery. How monstrous would it be at higher levels? Perhaps he'd become a sword master, able to split rocks with a wooden sword? Though, it didn't seem too overpowered; there were plenty of creatures in this world that could smash rocks with their bare hands.

Harrot, overjoyed, continued to hack at the wooden stake. When his hands grew tired, he put down the wooden sword and practiced his footwork. This training session lasted for several hours, and even Harrot, with his astonishing stamina, began to feel a bit tired.

Putting down the greatsword and wiping away his sweat, Harrot found a shaded spot and sat down to rest. The two bags of water he'd brought from the cell were long gone, and he felt thirsty. He wondered if there was water in the training ground and looked around.

Seeing Harrot sit down to rest, the 'old man' who had earlier said he would communicate with Harrot approached him with a smile, holding a water skin.

The old man stopped 3 meters from Harrot. This distance was close enough for a normal conversation without making the other person wary.

The old man put on a harmless smile and asked Harrot, who was sitting on the ground, "Hello, new friend, what should I call you?"

Harrot had seen the man approaching from afar. Seeing his friendly attitude, he politely replied, "My name is Harrot, and you, old man?"

The man who asked the question was quite old, probably over fifty. Harrot wasn't sure of his intentions, but he himself wanted to gather some information, so he decided to hear what the old man had to say first.

"Harrot, got it. My name is Hark, and I'm the oldest gladiator in this arena. I don't have any special skills, just good luck to have been around here for a long time. Harrot, since you're new here, feel free to ask me if there's anything you're unsure about."

Hark introduced himself cheerfully after Harrot's reply, but Harrot didn't believe his claim of "no special skills" at all. Surviving long in a place like this wasn't just about good luck.

"Thanks, old man. Come sit down and talk. I'm new to this arena, and there's a lot I don't know. I really could use your introduction."

Harrot went along with Hark's words, and he was also quite eager to learn about the arena. Harrot had been sold in the morning and died in the afternoon, so he knew practically nothing about this place.

"Then you've come to the right person! I've been in this arena for over a decade. I can tell you there's nothing about this arena I don't know!"

Hark smiled confidently, sat opposite Harrot, opened his water skin, took a drink, and then naturally offered it to Harrot.

"Thanks, I'm a bit thirsty too." Harrot took the water skin, thanked him, and took a big gulp.

Hark had taken a sip beforehand to show that the water was fine, preventing Harrot from being too suspicious and refusing it.

Hark felt much more relieved seeing Harrot accept the water skin and express his thanks. After a few words, he could tell Harrot was a relatively easygoing person and began to introduce things in detail.

"Let me explain the rules of the arena to you in detail."

"This arena is the largest in the entire Northern Province. It's owned by Marquis Harlaus, but he's a very busy man, so the arena is managed by his eldest son, Count Sarik."

Harrot knew who Harlaus was. He was in the original Harrot's memories, and he'd left a very deep impression.

He was an incredibly important figure. All the places the original Harrot and his father had gone after fleeing to the Kingdom of Lucanir were nominally this old Marquis's territory. Even the lord of the newly reclaimed land where they'd settled earlier was just a minor figure belonging to this Marquis's faction.

The Kingdom of Lucanir had no dukes; aside from the king's own power, the three marquises held the highest status.

Count Sarik, meanwhile, was the old Marquis's primary heir.

"Count Sarik manages many of the old Marquis's properties, and he also has a lot to do in his own territory, so he only comes to the arena once or twice a month. He doesn't pay much attention to the arena's specific operations, mainly just counting the profits and checking if there have been any major screw-ups."

"Currently, the day-to-day management of the arena is handled by four of Sarik's subordinates."

"These four managers are also the four highest-ranking people at the arena. You can't afford to offend any of them."

Harrot listened intently to Hark's words. This was information that would affect his future, and even if it wasn't all accurate, he still needed to remember it well.