Oliver is feeling very strange now.
Horrible thirst rasps his throat and mouth, and hunger turns to total paralysis. They were mixed with the fatigue of restraint and blood loss, and Oliver thought he was dead the moment he opened his eyes.
But he didn't.
What followed was instinctive fear and sourness, and the wound left by the sword was aching, like a dozen hot metal needles left in the flesh. He couldn't laugh anymore, the fatigue finally eroded the flesh and began to spread to the heart. But in contrast, a strange warmth was pouring into his limbs from his heart.
His will was struggling on the brink of death, but his body was slowly waking up. Like a dilapidated dyke being broken open, power poured out uncontrollably, hitting his nerves. Funny to say, Oliver has never felt "alive" so clearly. Although it's not clear why, it's never a bad thing.
The gatekeepers who reinforced his restraint had already left, and it was not that the other party's words did not penetrate Oliver's ears. Oliver couldn't say how he felt about it. shake? sorrow? maybe. He didn't want to think, and he didn't want to talk anymore.
He just sat quietly in the dark corner, keeping his mind blank, and using his instincts to support the operation of his body. If he is still alive, then someone will take the opportunity to sneak attack.
Yes, he is still alive.
Oliver originally thought he would feel rage, despair, or some more intense negative emotions, but now he is as calm as burnt ashes. Perhaps when people are weak, their thoughts will become simpler and purer.
He's still alive, he's still seeing Nemo - and that's why he's going to live on. He kept his promise, Oliver thought dazedly. It's amazing that he has managed to persist until now.
"why?"
Oliver subconsciously wanted to raise his sword, only to realize that the attack was not a weapon, but a problem.
The man who used the meteor hammer questioned, with subtle condemnation and resentment in his tone. "Why?" he repeated again, "Don't pretend to be a saint in a place like this, it's disgusting."
"You want me to kill you?" Oliver tried to clear his throat.
"Fart, but what's the difference between you doing this and stepping on Lao Tzu's face?" the man growled, "You're not a test subject, ah? You just gave up the chance I've ever dreamed of! Listen, No one will take your love, sooner or later we'll have to die—"
"Fifteen people haven't come back," Oliver said. "I know."
"No. You don't know anything, you don't know what's going on in the test area." The big man growled, "And here—if you don't get ahead, no one can live here for three months!"
"I want to kill you," Oliver replied quietly, deaf to the big man's shouting. "I'm not a saint, I want to kill you every second."
The big man choked.
"I'm not a saint, by far," Oliver repeated hoarsely. "I just… don't agree."
"The law of the weak is the rule of thumb. You can't recognize it or not, this is the way the world of hell is - worthless human life is worthless." The big man approached, and the iron chain left by the meteor hammer dragged the floor, making a series of harsh sounds. "Even if you pretend to be noble here, nothing will change, and the gatekeeper won't care about the conscience of Lao Shizi—"
"Noble." Oliver suddenly wanted to laugh, "You mean noble? ... Do you really think so?"
Killing others for his own benefit, he just hasn't had time to do so, should he be defined as "noble"
"Then throw away that hypocrite and pick up your sword! I'll tell you straight, you're very uncomfortable, three hundred thousand." The big man hissed, "I know you look down on us biting into a ball. the villain..."
"Who defined it?"
"what?"
"The gatekeeper thinks you're 'worthless,' and you accept it." The oddly dressed knight stood up, sword in both hands, in front of him. "Why? I'm just more talented than you in killing people. I'm a 'worthy strong man'. Who defines it?"
In the quiet life of Signpost, Oliver occasionally has the illusion that "everything is normal." The law protects people, and people live peacefully, and the trajectory of life does not move forward according to the established route. What a wonderful illusion.
But this is not a fair and ideal world, and now Oliver understands this.
The so-called kindness is not necessarily rewarded, and the perpetrators are not necessarily punished. People are sometimes terribly smart, and sometimes terribly stupid. Right and wrong are often blurred together, and adherence to principles seems pointless—the world is cold, chaotic, and crazy, making no sense.
But knowing this unreasonable madness makes the occasional miracle all the more precious.
Just like not everyone who gets hurt returns malice. Just like in a desperate situation where there is no way out, some people will give in, and some people will continue to persevere. Just as demons will eventually part ways with fragile humans, and some... not.
Put aside the meaning, put aside the gains and losses. Those lives that are stubborn and stupid, who insist on going on pain, do not operate according to the so-called "rules", "standards" and "logic".
This is not a world that can be easily defined by others.
Then he didn't want to bow to the made-up rules either.
"I said, I want to kill you, every second. But I'm making choices, every second." The knight's voice trembled a little. "I'm not a martyr. It's not because of the fuck. Noble or mean, just because I have a reason to hold on."
Of course he will be disappointed and painful, but the person he loves is very gentle - Oliver hopes that the other party can continue to live without any scruples, he hopes that he can be qualified to be the other party's chain and armor, so that the other party will not be hostile lost in.
And a self who bows to selfish desires and liberation cannot do this.
"... It's just that you chose to do it, I chose not to do it, and then we each bear the consequences."
Every second is like this.
"We're the same," Oliver said, his throat hurting like swallowing shards of glass. "For what it's worth, my name is Oliver Ramon, not '300,000'... You have a name too, don't you?"
And his enemies did not answer. The big man returned to the shadows, spat on the ground, and said nothing. For a while, there was only the numb and soothing breathing sound in the room again. People continued to peep from the shadows, like the day the eccentric knight had just arrived.
No one approached, no one made a sound. People just looked at him coldly.
But no one attacked either.
Oliver almost managed to fall asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, it was a new cycle of the day. Oliver routinely kissed the scarred markings on his wrists—he could feel his power surging under the restraints, rattling the shackles and collars of his limbs.
The silk of hope fell into his hands.
Things seem to be moving in the right direction. Oliver guessed that the thirst had reached the limit of death, and he was able to keep a trace of sanity, and even began to try to break the restraint of his body. The composition of the new collar is very complicated, but under the continuous testing of majestic power, Oliver gradually got a little clue. For some reason, his power increased several times. Right now he just needs time - another week or two, a month at the most, and he can definitely get it done.
The night also became less difficult. After that day's conversation, Oliver's roommates stopped clumsily sneaking up, preferring to use him as air.
His persistence seems to have paid off.
It wasn't until three days later that Randy stood in front of him.
It was supposed to be a normal and crazy day as usual. It's just that after the fight was over, the blood-sucking dirt of the arena rose into the air, wrapping Oliver directly in it. And when he saw the light again, the field was still wide, and there was only one person left on the opposite side.
The killer's eyes on the opposite side are very complicated. He clenched his shield tightly, his lips were pressed tightly, and silence floated in the air for a long time.
"Only one person can go out alive." The tall killer finally said, and then sighed. "Sorry, Ramon—nice to meet you, but we gotta have a good fight."
Having said that, Randy took a few deep breaths, lowered his center of gravity, and looked like a beast about to attack. Murderous aura spreads out delicately and indifferently like a quietly blooming flower.
He was serious, Oliver thought vaguely.
"We can cooperate." Oliver said quickly, his voice completely hoarse. He's still a little out of shape - no notice, no preparation. Oliver almost forgot to draw his sword. "It doesn't have to be your life or death. Randy, I've been trying to break open..."
The heavy shield slid past his ear, nearly shattering the flimsy skeleton helmet.
"Do you know where we're standing?" Randy's tone was still indifferent, he retracted his heavy shield, and jumped closer again like a lion. "The Forge of Flesh is down here. They've got your eyes on you, Ramon. We can't escape."
The killer has never stopped killing in the arena, and his recovery spell has never been broken. Despite the spell being blocked, Randy looked energetic and in great shape, with a razor-sharp killing intent in every movement. His movements are quick and agile, and Mora is definitely not by his side.
… That means your opponent has no worries, which is not good news.
"There's always a way!" Oliver cried out, trying to convince his opponent, convince himself, or just try to stay sane. If it is only physical strength, his condition is not dominant. Adrian Cross taught him the swordsmanship of capturing the enemy, not the one-hit kill. "Even if it's a furnace of flesh and blood..."
To be honest, Oliver doesn't know what the Forge of Flesh means - he's completely clueless about what's going on, and the only person who knows anything at the moment is busy killing him.
"They didn't tell you what a Forge of Flesh was, did they? Of course." Randy's attack speed was getting faster and faster, and the heavy shield edged against Oliver's chest. The latter struggled to hold on to his standing position, and was knocked back a few steps, almost spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Like they won't tell you that the cell you were sent to has expired."
"Time limit?" Oliver stood up straight for a few seconds, his sword swing stopped for a moment, and he was almost hit by the shield.
"Literally." Randy twitched his lips, as if intending to use information as a means of attack. "The Flesh Furnace needs flesh and blood to maintain. Why do you think they chose such a cell for you? Have you been attacked a lot at night, Ramon?"
"It's all dying. They're the ones to die. They were your chance, and you were their chance," the killer announced brutally. "Now they're waiting for you down here."
"Yes, waiting for you. I'm definitely not going to fall." Randy's voice was bitter and self-deprecating. "How lucky that my opponent is an honest man."
Oliver raised his sword and took a deep breath. His hands trembled a little. "fall down?"
"A boring experiment by the gatekeeper. Only one piece of information is certain—everyone who fell has been torn apart and eaten alive. I told you long ago that it was much easier to just kill someone in the first place." Randy was wary stared at the sword. "To be honest, I admire you, Ramon. But now we're destined to fall one of them, dead or half-dead."
"My love is waiting for me, I can't die," the killer murmured, a soft emotion flashing across his stiff face.
"Unfortunately, so do I." Oliver licked his lips. His eyes were still wandering around the battle room, trying to find the flaws, but he found nothing. He didn't dare to attack the collar at this time - Randy's killing intent was not adulterated, if he failed to attack and was attacked by the collar, he would definitely be killed by the killer in the next second.
His insistence might not make any sense, Oliver thought. He had the confidence to save his life before, but now...
The armor on his chest was smashed, and his ribs should have been broken. Oliver turned his groggy head as best he could, judging the injury by the pain—Randy was different from his previous opponents. If his state is normal, he cannot draw a draw with the current situation.
And deliberately creating such a desperate environment, Oliver does not think the goalkeeper will be kind enough to give them a chance to draw.
Not to kill, but to be killed. There are no other options right now.
It seems that he can't fulfill his promise to Adrian Cross no matter what. Either live and admit that he is a coward who will abandon the bottom line for selfish desires; or die and go with the unfulfilled promise.
But he was so close to freedom - as long as he persisted and thoroughly understood the structure of the collar, he could break the bond and escape. He obviously only needs a little time, he has already overcome the pain of dying...
It's time to choose again, second after second, again and again. And this time, he finally lost the confidence to successfully resist. Oliver glanced at the engraving on his left wrist, and his eyes were a little sore. He took a step almost instinctively, assuming an attacking stance for the first time.
He's better than Randy now, Oliver knows that.
He can win, he can win, but...
"That's it." Randy said, his sharp eyes moving with the tip of the sword, "Like a man, let's fight with dignity."
,Wonderful!
(m.. = )