The Training Ground was quite large, with various dummies and wooden posts set up all around. At one edge stood a weapon rack piled with wooden weapons.
Harrot did not immediately pick up a weapon to train. His Agility had risen from 4 to 8, and he wanted to first adapt to the substantial increase in his physical attributes.
Finding an open space, Harrot rapidly leaped left and right, ran back and forth, crouched, and rolled. With 8 points of Agility and lv2 Running, the results were even better than he had imagined. Every movement came naturally, and he could control his body with ease.
Although he could not match the acrobatic performances from his past life, simple moves like front and back flips were no problem at all.
Several gladiators nearby were surprised by Harrot's movements. They had seen strong bodies before, and they had seen agile ones too, but it was rare to see both qualities in one person. A two-meter-tall, muscular giant rolling and hopping about so nimbly was truly quite a sight.
Harrot's combat strength had now more than doubled compared to the original Harrot. The original Harrot not only had low Agility, but was not particularly intelligent either. His every movement had been sluggish. He would often watch prey run past him, stare blankly for a long while, and only then pounce, showing something of a mentally disabled child's tendencies.
Now that Harrot had 8 points of Agility and 9 points of Intelligence, his weaknesses had been greatly compensated for. He could properly bring out the natural brute strength of this body.
Having tested his body's flexibility, Harrot prepared to try out his offensive capabilities. That was not something he could easily test barehanded.
Walking over to the weapon rack, Harrot looked at the wooden swords, wooden shields, and spears of varying sizes, considering what weapon to use. The gladiators in the Gladiatorial Arena most commonly used a one-handed sword and shield. Some preferred a spear and shield, while others favored violent two-handed greatswords.
He was not used to spears, and they were not weapons that relied on strength. A one-handed sword and shield, meanwhile, was not violent enough and was too balanced.
He had inherited the original Harrot's body, which possessed an unusual constitution. Not only did he have a thick health bar, but the system equipment slot also provided a "+10 Golden Bell Shield." His ability to take hits was first-rate, so it should be fine without a shield. He would specialize in the greatsword!
Because of Weapon Proficiency, Harrot wanted to specialize in a single weapon as much as possible. But to be safe, he did not immediately invest all 80 points of Weapon Proficiency into two-handed weapons. What if he really was not suited to using a greatsword?
Harrot selected a thick, sturdy greatsword from the pile of weapons, swung it a few times where he stood, and nodded. "This one."
The greatsword was 1.7 meters long. Since it was made of wood, it was not particularly heavy, but it still felt fairly comfortable in his hands.
Harrot walked over to a wooden post, closed his eyes, and recalled the basic moves the original Harrot had learned from the militia. After thinking for several minutes, he opened his eyes. He had basically remembered all the key points. They were only militia techniques, so naturally there was nothing profound about them, and the original Harrot's brain could not remember anything too difficult anyway.
Harrot took a deep breath and suddenly stepped forward. Starting from his waist, he exerted more than half the strength in his body. With a loud shout, he swung the greatsword and viciously chopped at the wooden post in front of him.
With a crack, Harrot drove the wooden sword deeply into the post. After pulling it out, it left behind a five- to six-centimeter gash. Twenty points of Strength combined with lv4 Power Strike produced terrifying destructive force.
The posts in the Training Ground were all sturdy solid-wood logs. No matter how hard an ordinary person struck them, they could only leave minor scratches. No one had ever chopped a third of the way through one in a single blow like Harrot. At once, quite a few gladiators turned curious eyes toward him.
"That guy is ridiculously strong. Who is he?"
"Never seen him before. He must be new. I hope I never run into him. I don't like fighting monsters like that!"
"I don't want to fight someone who lives off brute strength either. One hit from him and you'd be bedridden for at least half a month!"
A group of gladiators began discussing Harrot as they watched him train alone.
"Old man, do you know him? What's that guy's background? I don't remember anyone that fierce from prison. He's not from prison, is he?"
The man called old man was not really that old, barely in his early fifties at most. But in a place like the Gladiatorial Arena, that already counted as advanced age.
The old man shook his head. "I don't know him either. He's probably an expert brought in from outside by the higher-ups. I just don't know whether he's easy to get along with."
"How about I test him? If he has a good attitude, we can bring him into the group. If not, we can teach him a lesson so he doesn't get too arrogant."
A burly man spoke eagerly, staring at Harrot as his sandbag-sized fists clenched with a series of cracks.
"Don't. He doesn't look easy to provoke. Don't start a conflict with him. I'll talk to him first and see where he came from."
The old man shook his head and stopped the burly man. Harrot's explosive physique, combined with that savage strike just now, was quite intimidating. He did not look like some soft target they could bully at will. It would be better to talk things out and build a relationship than make an enemy.
Harrot did not care about the attention of others. He was excitedly experiencing the wondrous effects brought by lv2 Weapon Mastery.
Harrot felt as though he had formed some sort of connection with the greatsword in his hands. The greatsword had become an extension of his body. It felt incredibly precise and nimble when he swung it, and he could even strike wherever he wanted with his eyes closed.
lv2 Weapon Mastery did not increase his strength or speed in any way, but the improvement to Harrot's combat power was obvious. Using a greatsword was originally quite taxing, especially when attacking continuously. It consumed a great deal of stamina and could lead to temporary exhaustion.
Yet under lv2 Weapon Mastery, Harrot only felt that the more he chopped, the easier it became, and the more powerful his strikes grew. After six consecutive slashes, he even felt as though the greatsword was moving on its own. He only needed to exert a little force to adjust the direction of his attacks.
This was only lv2 Weapon Mastery. How monstrous would it become at higher levels? Would he directly become a swordsmanship master, capable of splitting Stone with a wooden sword? Then again, perhaps it was not that extraordinary. There were plenty of creatures in this world that could smash Stone barehanded.
Filled with delight, Harrot kept hacking at the wooden post. Whenever his hands grew tired, he put down the wooden sword and trained his footwork instead. Several hours passed in this manner, and even Harrot, with his astonishing stamina, could not help feeling somewhat tired.
Putting down the greatsword in his hand and wiping away his sweat, Harrot found a shady spot and sat down to rest. The two bags of water he had brought from the cell were long empty. Feeling thirsty, he looked around, wondering whether the Training Ground had any water.
Seeing Harrot sit down to rest, the old man who had earlier said he would speak with him approached with a smile on his face, carrying a waterskin in his hand.
The old man stopped three meters away from Harrot. This distance would neither make the other party wary nor interfere with a normal conversation.
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 spotted the man approaching from afar. Seeing that the other party seemed fairly friendly, he replied politely, "My name is Harrot. What about you, brother?"
The man asking the question was quite old, probably in his fifties. Harrot did not know what he wanted, but Harrot himself also wanted to gather some information, so he decided to first hear what the old man had come for.
"Harrot, right? I'll remember that. My name is Hark. I'm the oldest gladiator in this Gladiatorial Arena. I don't have any special skills. I've just been lucky enough to survive here a little longer. Since you've just arrived, Harrot, you can ask me if there's anything you don't understand."
After hearing Harrot's reply, Hark gave a hearty introduction. However, Harrot did not believe for a moment that he had "no special skills." In a place like this, surviving for a long time took more than luck.
"Thank you, brother. Come sit and talk. I've just arrived at this Gladiatorial Arena and there are many things I don't understand. I really do need you to explain things."
Harrot followed along with Hark's words. At the same time, he genuinely wanted to learn about the Gladiatorial Arena. Harrot had been sold here in the morning and died in the afternoon, so he knew almost nothing about the place.
"Then you've come to the right person. I've been in this Gladiatorial Arena for over ten years. You could say there's nothing here that I don't know!"
Hark smiled confidently, sat down across from Harrot, opened the waterskin, took a drink, and then naturally handed it to Harrot.
"Thanks. I was just getting thirsty." Harrot accepted the waterskin, thanked him, and took several large gulps.
Hark had taken a drink before handing it over to prove that the water was fine, preventing Harrot from becoming too suspicious to accept it.
When Hark saw that Harrot had accepted the waterskin and thanked him, he relaxed considerably. From their brief exchange, he could tell Harrot was fairly easy to talk to, so he began explaining things in detail.
"Let me tell you about the rules of the Gladiatorial Arena."
"This Gladiatorial Arena is the largest in the entire Northern Province. It belongs to Marquis Harlaus, but that lord is very busy, so the Gladiatorial Arena is managed by his eldest son, Count Sarik."
Harrot knew who Harlaus was. The original Harrot had memories of him, and the impression was especially deep.
He was an extraordinary figure. Every place the original Harrot and his father had passed through after fleeing to the Kingdom of Lucanir was nominally the territory of this Old Marquis. Even the lord of the newly reclaimed land where they had previously settled was merely a minor follower under this Marquis's faction.
The Kingdom of Lucanir had no dukes. Aside from the King's forces, the three Marquises held the highest status.
Count Sarik was the Old Marquis's first heir.
"Count Sarik has many of the Old Marquis's properties to manage, and he also has many matters to handle in his own territory. So he only comes to the Gladiatorial Arena once or twice a month. He does not pay much attention to its day-to-day operations either, only checking the profits and seeing whether any trouble has been caused."
"At present, the actual operation of the Gladiatorial Arena is managed by four of Sarik's subordinates."
"Those four managers are the four highest-ranking people in the Gladiatorial Arena. You can offend anyone, but not them."
Harrot listened carefully to Hark. This was information related to his future fate. Even if it might not all be accurate, he still had to remember it firmly.
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