Kuran looked at the young man sitting firmly on the silver horse with a complicated look. He entered the gold field 30 years ago and was only firmly in the middle position a few years ago, but this young man seems to be heavenly. Beloved-no, even the apocalypse can't reach the golden mid-range level at this age, unless it is the chosen person born in response to fate.
But the chosen people are all locked in the shackles of fate, and the disabled who are congenitally robbed of part of their bodies are like blind Yura. So when the old swordsman saw Brando, he didn't even think about it in that direction. He paused and asked anxiously:
"Young man, who is your seal soul?"
"What?" Brando was taken aback.
"Don't pretend to be garlic, I'll ask who your seal soul is, you understand!" The old man suddenly jumped his feet with anger, he shouted: "This is very important, tell me quickly—"
"What are you talking about, what do I understand?"
Brando was really shocked this time. When he saw Kuran coming over, he thought the old man was going to remind him something, but he didn't expect that the other person would have a series of inexplicable questions when he opened his mouth.
But he was about to ask, when the huge voice above the arena suddenly sounded again, interrupting the conversation between them:
"Mortal, do you want to continue to challenge?"
"Of course." Brando replied.
"Boy, answer me!" Kuran shouted outside, flapping the air wall. But Brando glanced at him and gave him a wait gesture, then he raised his head and waited for the fancy presenter to announce the rules.
Sure enough, he saw a row of faint green text immediately appearing on his retina—
"Nightmare Arena."
"The next battlefield is the Nightmare Arena!" At the same time, the voice of thunder in the sky also announced the same words in everyone's hearts.
Brando's face suddenly changed.
"What is the Nightmare Arena, Lord Lord?" Medissa frowned and asked in a low voice.
…
"What is the Nightmare Arena, Ke Wen?" At the same time, Maher turned his head and asked his companion the same question.
"I don't know." The thin boy's answer was simple.
"What are they arguing?" But Joka's attention fell on Brando and Kuran. Compared with this bizarre world, he was more worried about whether his group could leave here safely together.
"I don't know." The same answer.
"But why does he continue to challenge, there is no one else to save here?" Someone asked in the same way.
"I don't think it's that simple," someone replied: "Although I don't know where this is, I think it must cost a lot of money to build such a place. Is it just for the game of arresting or releasing people? ?"
His words resonated with many people, and they all raised their heads and looked around worriedly.
"Hmph, you don't know the hobbies of those noble masters, maybe they are just for fun!" But some people retorted.
"This is not necessarily made by the noble lords. I remember that if we were right, we were under the mine before. I don't think the thing we dug out is weird."
"Yes, I also support this view! Besides, it was a dragon just now. I think those things are a bit—how to say, I feel as if I'm in a dream now, and I don't know if it's true."
The boy said that he touched the cold iron fence.
Everyone fell silent.
"His goal is that sword." Ke Wen's voice was not high, but he always waited for the chirping teenagers to finish speaking before speaking slowly, which sounded particularly weighty.
The thin boy stared at the dark long sword on the stele in the center of the arena. He noticed that Brando had turned his gaze in that direction several times.
When he said this, others immediately felt that there was some truth.
"Then he doesn't plan to save us?" someone asked worriedly.
"Why do others want to save us—" This is a questioning voice.
"Kewen?" Joka looked at his companions. In his mind, Ke Wen was the most knowledgeable and thoughtful person he had ever met, although he was not very talkative most of the time, but every Very insightful all the time.
"I have a way," Ke Wen whispered, but it was more like cheering himself up: "—I think of a way to convince him."
"How do you convince him?" Maher asked puzzled.
"Make a deal with him."
Maher's eyes widened: "You don't really want to trade with him with your worthless weird things. If you want to provoke him, it won't do us any good!"
Ke Wen didn't answer, but silently glanced at his companion.
…
"Nightmare Arena is an extreme mode. No matter how powerful you are in this arena, you are just an ordinary person. Here, you must use your skills to defeat the enemy."
"Skills?" Metisa's eyebrows raised slightly, "What technique?"
Brando flicked the blade with his fingers: "Fighting skills."
The silver elf girl fell silent, as if thinking. It sounded like it was more beneficial to them, but she wouldn't think so. Although Lord Lord didn't mention it, she probably guessed that it would not be so simple.
Brando raised his head and looked into the sky. Soon rows of golden text appeared in the sky, dwarf language, ancient/modern Cruze, Tazu language, Elvish language, dragon language and even a kind of let Brando Frightening language:
He touched his nose, pretending not to see the rows of familiar squares.
However, there has been enough weirdness here, and the Chinese characters appearing out of thin air in the sky have not attracted much attention. For ancient civilizations, it seems that there is no obscure language that appears to be abnormal.
And everyone present paid more attention to the content of those texts:
1. Power Dissolution (For both parties involved in the battle, the power is forced to be reduced to less than 10 energy levels)
2. Skill Dispelling (All other abilities will disappear automatically unless the designated skills are used by the two parties involved in the battle)
3. Swordsmanship (the designated skill is swordsmanship)
Uta hissed. Although the young lord's power had already amazed her, the head of the mercenary knew better that it was different from the power level—just like the apocalypse might be born with more than silver power—but Swordsmanship is different. This is a skill that requires years of training.
Without decades of immersion, no matter how talented a person is, it is impossible to be called a master in swordsmanship. Whether it's in Eruin, Cruz or even the entire Vonde, those who are called masters of the generation are mostly gray-haired elders who have entered their old age.
"Don't worry, Yuta," Qian said in a thin voice from behind. She seemed to see the worry in the head of the female leader. However, the red-haired girl seemed more confident in Brando. She just hid her worries deeper in the amber eyes: "Lord Lord’s swordsmanship is very powerful—"
"I know the adults' swordsmanship is very powerful." Uta replied, but she frowned: "But I don't know who the adults' enemies are," she whispered: "Even in the history of Eruin, famous There are also many Juggernauts."
Qian stunned, and couldn't help but worry too.
Brando himself was also worried. His thoughts were similar to those of the female mercenary captain. The nightmare challenge was not that simple. He was already thinking about which swordsman master he would face.
The young man held the sword in his hand, and suddenly felt the light around him dim. Then the next moment, the Metisa next to her, the silver war horse sitting down and even the wind spirit spider in the sky disappeared in an instant.
There was a whisper around.
The ability of the traveling mage was also deprived, Brando immediately felt his scalp numb, he had hoped that this ability that has always beenhave like a plug-in can escape the rules, but now it seems that the position of the traveling mage is still in this world. Within the rules.
But fortunately, Brando hadn't relied on the identity of the brigade mage to the point that he couldn't fight without it. He just took a light breath, adjusted his emotions, and then stared at the surrounding vigilantly.
The light dimmed at that moment, and he found that he had come to an unfamiliar site—the ground was no longer sand, but rough granite—the neatly cut granite was paved piece by piece to form a huge field.
Brando looked around the entire venue, and then he saw a black shadow appearing in the north. He narrowed his eyes slightly and recognized the identity behind the shadow:
"Buddha?"
"Cross sword, Buga."
The same name flashed in the minds of Kuran and Uta. Buja was not a small name in Eruin, not to mention his peculiar stance of swordsmanship that the old swordsman and the head of the mercenary army recognized at a glance. The other party comes.
Kuran frowned deeply. He and the talented young man who had seen him a few years earlier knew each other's skills in swordsmanship. But what made him feel a little relieved is that Tobbs must be in his line, after all, he is the offspring of that person.
But Uta showed a sigh of relief. She had only seen Buja from a distance as a mercenary when passing by Lantonilan. Of course, she still knows the opponent's swordsmanship genre, but in her opinion, it is at least much easier to deal with than those famous swordsman masters.
But before the two had time to finish their small calculations in their hearts, another dark figure appeared on the scene.
Brando screamed in his heart, because the person who came was an old acquaintance-White Knight Alberton.
Then there was the third shadow, Brando also recognized that person-Viscount Tester.
For the fourth shadow, Brando felt sweat on his forehead at once, because that figure made him so familiar, he almost threw the long sword in his hand.
Standing just south of him is his grandfather.
"Tobbs!" Kuran's expression changed.
"That's..." Uta's complexion also changed. She felt as if there was something stuck in her throat, making her want to talk but couldn't make a sound: "Ha... Ha... Harrah's Grom..."
"Who is that?" Qian frowned and asked puzzledly.
Uta looked back at her with a weird expression, trying to speak but unable to speak.
But Brando is not in the mood to pay attention to these things at all, because he now realizes that he may be facing a big problem—
One enemy four.
"Martha is on!"