Iron and blood clashed in the Colosseum. Countless warriors spilled their blood, fighting for those hard-won spots. There were only fourteen, so most of them would be eliminated.
Some fought desperately, killing and hacking away, thinking that eliminating more people would improve their own chances of advancing. Little did they know that this could backfire, leaving them to do all the work for someone else.
There was practically no one like Zhao Si, who had found a comfortable spot to play dead. He was truly one of a kind. The audience's applause, popularity, even his reputation-none of it mattered to Zhao Si. What mattered most was advancing, then taking the championship.
There was no need to fuss over rules or honor. Jerren and Radahn had never set any complicated rules for the Combat Festival in the first place. Aside from being allowed to surrender, whoever remained standing won, and whoever lay down lost. Simple and clear.
There was no need for gimmicks like a points system or audience votes. Whether the audience liked Zhao Si did not matter, and exactly how many people he defeated was meaningless. If he could make the final fourteen lying down, all the better.
After the battle began, Radahn rode his little red horse up into the air and devoted his attention to enjoying the spectacle. His golden eyes flickered as he spotted Zhao Si lying among a pile of people. He could tell at a glance whether someone was dead or alive. Playing dead right under his nose-this man certainly had some nerve.
After a moment's thought, he remembered that this was the man Godrick had recommended.
"Tch." Radahn frowned slightly, his disdain deepening. These oafs who knew nothing but eating, drinking, and amusing themselves were simply defiling the sacred Combat Festival.
He attached