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The Game of Empires: Lost in the Arena

In "Lost in the Arena," the world as we know it has been destroyed by terrifying monsters, and our protagonist finds himself transported to a new reality where he must fight to survive in the deadly Arena. With his memory gone and his fate tied to the outcome of a high-stakes game that could determine the fate of entire planets, our hero is forced to battle for his life on a daily basis, entertaining the masses and fulfilling the expectations of those who have placed bets on his every move. As he navigates this brutal world, he will encounter unexpected allies, face unimaginable horrors, and discover that the true cost of failure is nothing less than the destruction of everything he holds dear. Blending elements of adventure and horror, "Lost in the Arena" is a gripping tale of survival, sacrifice, and the human spirit's unbreakable will to overcome even the most insurmountable obstacles.

DaoistGo32sL · Kinh dị ma quái
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
105 Chs

What I really felt. (69)

Warning: The following chapter contains intense scenes with excessive aggression, cannibalism, and graphic depictions of violence.

The journey to our destination stretched on for more than half a day. As the sun descended, the sky grew dark, shrouded in a blanket of gray clouds that infused a sense of gloom into the air. The first rumblings of thunder echoed through the atmosphere, illuminating the massive castle with brilliant flashes of lightning. The ominous storm beckoned us to seek shelter beyond the imposing black steel doors. Two gargoyle statues, frozen in aggressive poses, taunted us with wide grins and raised stone paws.

"Ugh, I'm so tired of these monotonous statues," Mina huffed, flipping her fiery red hair over her shoulder and casting a disdainful glance at the creatures and beasts who had arrived with us.

"Yes, indeed, we have arrived," the giant replied. He gripped the diamond-shaped handle and pushed it downward, causing the doors to open with a deafening creak. The sight that greeted us was a vast hall teeming with relentless revelry—endless laughter, slurping, and animated conversations. The noise washed over us like a tidal wave, engulfing us completely as we became trapped amidst the pulsating crowd.

The celebration of the Infernal Legion was a debaucherous spectacle, a frenzy of living and undead creatures indulging in their most primal desires. Structures of perversion crumbled under the weight of their unbridled revelry.

We moved slowly through the crowd, the pounding of my blood against my armor reverberating within me. My helmet seemed to amplify the metallic scent that sought to infiltrate my nostrils, and linger as an unwelcome guest for centuries. My comrades, already drenched in the local aroma, made no effort to erase the stains but only quickened their pace.

A sickening feeling settled in my gut, and the captured soul in my mind raged with renewed vigor, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably. Clutching my shoulders, I attributed my discomfort to the horror unfolding around me, realizing that my attitude toward everything had turned into a deep-seated aversion.

In my line of sight, a long pole stood erect, droplets of fresh blood dripping onto the steel surface of a nearby table. Swallowing hard, I looked up and froze.

The severed head of a creature was impaled on the rod, its mouth slightly agape and neatly stitched shut. Its lifeless eyes stared forward. The air seemed to evaporate from my lungs.

There were numerous poles arranged around the central one, each bearing the severed heads of young beings from various races, most of them human children.

Gasping for breath, I heard the distant voice of the giant, pulling me from my morbid contemplation. "Theron, why are you standing there like an idol? Hurry up!"

Turning toward his direction, I ceased paying attention to my surroundings, continuing on my path in an unknown direction.

The tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous dishes, some of which had spilled onto the floor. Pink innards were crushed underfoot by careless guests, and pieces of flesh hung on the walls like macabre decorations. Tales of unholy concoctions brewed in the kitchen and creatures imbibing scarlet or even purple liquids felt like a nightmare manifested in reality.

I longed to remove my helmet and make a beeline for the exit, but the realization that my expression, perhaps even my true identity, would be recognized halted my intentions.

As we moved away from the cacophony of the main hall, the noise in my ears persisted, a relentless buzzing that refused to subside.

"You're just in time," a figure emerged from the dark corner, their flesh half-rotted, maggots crawling from empty eye sockets. A crooked nose sniffed at the contents of sealed glass vessels with meticulous precision.

The nearly naked skull, adorned with sparse gray hair, swayed in my direction, and the towering figure, with its two-meter height, grinned, revealing sharp fangs.

"Ah, Kai Theron. Congratulations on joining the alliance," the guttural voice, with a slightly higher pitch, creaked like a door on unoiled hinges. She leaned forward, her decaying form hovering in front of me.

Two black voids widened as the woman sucked in air, filling her putrefying lungs, and she suddenly whispered in my ear, "You smell different somehow."

Stunned, I turned my head toward her exposed jaw, devoid of even a shred of flesh, and attempted to speak. But no sound, not even a single word, escaped my lips.

Tugging at her gray hair with hooked fingers, the zombie let out a repulsive clicking sound with her exposed cheekbone.

"You've become more fragrant," she sang, her words intertwining with the curses that churned within my racing heart.

Knowing that she couldn't see my expression, I nodded ever so slightly in response.

"AHAHAHA," the woman's monologue came to an end. With a hunched back, she clutched the vessels in one hand and ventured deep into the seemingly endless corridor.

"That was horrifying! I thought she was going to devour us," Greg broke the silence, his hand instinctively brushing against the goosebumps on his skin.

"Don't even mention it. I wanted to sprint away without looking back," the giant chimed in, gripping a hefty piece of pelvic bone with boiled meat and voraciously tearing sinewy morsels with his fangs.

Meanwhile, the werewolf girl came up to one of the tables, humming a tune to herself. Using silver tongs, she delicately picked up the baked fingers and placed them in a deep plate.

Greg poured the purple liquid into skull bowls, and a swirling mist hovered above a living fountain of finely minced meat.

Frozen in place, I felt utterly lost, uncertain of what my next move should be.

I had no desire to consume any of it, let alone drink the concoctions on offer.

Summoning my courage, I began to wander through the hall in search of something more palatable, all the while catching glimpses of even more disturbing dishes along the way.

At one point, I caught sight of a gathering crowd, each person holding a plate. A small queue obstructed the view of some grand spectacle.

That was my initial assumption.

As I approached, a distant moo reached my ears, accompanied by a pungent scent of blood. It was different from the lingering aroma that pervaded the hall, stronger and more distinct.

Halting in my tracks, I grappled with conflicting emotions of curiosity and disgust.

Whatever awaited me there, it wouldn't be half-naked girls singing or costumed clowns juggling...not even within the confines of my imagination.

The internal battle raging within me, several more individuals joined the queue.

Cursing inwardly, I propelled myself forward. After all, if I didn't like it, I could simply turn around and leave.

When I reached the front of the line, the crowd dispersed upon seeing me.

"This is Kai."

"Venerable, please proceed."

"Oh, it's the first time I've seen him up close."

"Hey, step back, can't you see HE's here?"

My thoughts became jumbled in my mind as I finally stood face to face with the bound beast.

Rods pierced through his hands, immersing them in the flickering scarlet light of a magic circle. Its toes, half of its stomach, and parts of its entrails were missing, and the feeble gaze of its yellow eyes completely eradicated any desire I had to approach further.

Someone kneeling beside the creature handed me a sharp blade, saying, "Please, feel free to partake."

My body began trembling once again, yet this time, I realized that the source of my reaction wasn't mere disgust or fear—it was anticipation.

Unbeknownst to myself, I found my lips curling into a smile, even amidst the pain emanating from the slightly cracked corners.

Gripping the black handle with my steel-clad glove, I stepped closer to the living delicacy, all while casually listening to the explanations that passed from one set of lips to another within the audience.

"Ah, Merek could have become a formidable fighter."

"Yes, indeed. He could have, if he hadn't destroyed Gleim's favorite weapon."

"But it was an accident, wasn't it?"

"And who will find out? The spectacle is what matters. I wouldn't mind sampling some werewolf as well."

...

The surrounding sounds ceased to hold any significance as I clutched its earlobe with steel claws, my gaze fixed upon the frozen terror deep within Merek's pupils.

Grinning wider, I found myself unable to suppress a burst of maniacal laughter.

Triangular ears twitched as purple blood dripped onto the floor, staining my already soaked shoe. Through the dirty rags that bound the werewolf's mouth, a muffled groan escaped, and tears streamed down his no longer pristine white fur.

Seizing a severed piece of flesh, I raised it triumphantly above my head, surveying the onlookers. The number of spectators at this macabre performance had multiplied since its commencement. Words of encouragement grew more frequent, goading me to explore new methods of torment.

Hundreds of creatures encircled the sadistic scene, reveling in the slow demise of the victim before them.

The process extended beyond an hour, and when the exhausted Merek finally collapsed face-first into his own pool of blood, devoid of lips and tongue, I halted.

Allowing the blade to slip from my grasp, I stared at my bloodstained hands in disbelief.

What had I done?

The steel surface refused to absorb the purple droplets; instead, they trickled over its smooth exterior, forming circular ripples in a pool of violet.

Searching for any semblance of justification, I struggled to believe in the authenticity of this reality.

Does the living soul inhabiting this body truly have such a profound effect on me?

I must consume it swiftly, before it becomes a habit I can't break free from.

Clutching my fist tightly, I hoisted the still-breathing werewolf, perceiving a silent plea within his lone intact pupil. I wanted to say something to him, my lips quivered with nervous anticipation. With a bitter smile, I exhaled and snapped his neck. Leaning the lifeless body against the magic circle, I absorbed the resounding cheers from the crowd.

A resounding voice reverberated through the spacious hall.

"I WELCOME EVERYONE. I, JOE, AM EXTREMELY PLEASED TO SEE NEW FACES IN..."