Ark Undead

At least in the doctor's memory, he should be a perpetrator.

And he will never feel guilty about it.

If it weren't for the vow we made together in front of the stone tablet that day, perhaps we wouldn't be where we are today.

It was a noble choice, a choice made by the ancient people of the gods themselves, guided by their divine guidance.

Even the doctor himself became a victim.

He is the only one still alive today.

And then there's Kal'tsit.

However, she seems to have forgotten many things as well.

Even the immortals...

"One day you will understand my choice."

A long sigh echoed across the empty deck.

"Forgive me, Amiya..."

361. The Arena of the Gods

With a beautiful horizontal slash, he cut through the air in front of him, struck the shaft of the opponent's spear, slashed a notch in the shaft, and then immediately slid down the shaft.

The sound of steel scraping against steel made one involuntarily frown. But as the blade was about to sever the gunman's arm, the audience's excitement gradually rose with the grating, piercing sound.

The gunman was not nervous. He released his right hand, and with his left hand slightly guiding the force of the straight sword striking the hilt, he slammed the gun hilt against his own neck.

The spear circled around her neck, its tip grazing the outer garment on the girl's arm, revealing her fair skin.

The gunman gripped the handle below the gun barrel with his right hand and thrust it forward.

Ding!

The back of the blade precisely blocked the tip of the spear. The Felin girl lowered her body slightly and slid to the side of the spearman with two quick steps.

She seized the opportunity to get close to his side, and the advantage of the spear seemed to be no longer applicable.

She slashed the straight sword across her waist, making a cut on the spearman's waist, before it was immediately blocked by the raised spear.

The gunman plunged the tip of his spear into the ground, gripped the handle with his right hand, and used the spear to propel himself into the air, kicking straight at the girl's chest.

The girl was slightly surprised by the way the weapon resembled a gun or a stick, but she quickly realized what it meant.

She leaned back, the straight knife in her right hand pressed horizontally against her slender waist.

He suddenly rolled over just as his chest was about to collide with the kick.

The blade, pressed under the waist, was propelled by astonishing flexibility and speed, as if drawing a circular flash of light.

Before the gunman could even react to what was happening, he felt a piercing pain in his thigh.

In the next instant, the girl bent down to sheathe her sword, her right and left hands almost touching.

The blade was sheathed, yet a sense of unease lingered in the heart.

At this moment, all killing intent and sharpness were hidden in the scabbard at her left waist.

The girl's eyes were vacant as she looked at the ground; her vision was no longer an obstacle to her perception of her surroundings.

All senses are magnified infinitely.

She heard the soldier's heavy breathing, and she heard her own muffled heartbeat.

She could sense that someone was behind her, holding a gun and hovering in mid-air.

In her mind, she even conjured up a picture of herself in the present moment.

The petite figure, concealing the blade, was almost pressed against the ground, her back to the gunman whose flesh she had just sliced ​​open.

Breathing stopped for a moment, and all the muscles in my body tensed up abruptly.

The next moment, it was as if time itself began to flow.

The girl turned around, gripped the hilt of her sword with her right hand, and dragged it horizontally from its sheath. The blade drew a dazzling light in the fiery red sunset.

The straight sword was so fast that no one could react in time to the three actions of sheathing the sword, turning around, and striking out in an instant.

It was as if a portion of time had been hollowed out. In the audience's eyes, the girl had just been leaning over with her back to the gunman, and in the blink of an eye, she was seen turning around and drawing her sword.

Blood flowed slowly down the blade, which came to rest steadily on the slightly brown skin, leaving a small cut of less than half a centimeter.

Melantha held her breath, her lifeless eyes fixed on the stunned gunslinger in front of her.

"I won."

Her voice was calm and composed, as if this victory had nothing to do with her.

The gunman took a deep breath, and only then did he accurately feel the different degrees of pain in the two wounds on his body.

Left with no other choice, he withdrew his right leg, which he had kicked out in mid-air, and said with a hint of respect.

"I lost."

The girl put down her straight sword and gracefully sheathed it.

Only then did she exhale the stale air that had been trapped in her lungs.

Then, a sharp, aching sensation slowly spread throughout my body.

It was at this moment that the priest on the altar finally spoke and made the announcement.

"In the individual competition, the final match, Melantha, a warrior from Rhodes Island, emerges victorious!"

Then, cannon salutes and cheers resounded throughout the square.

People erupted in thunderous applause for the stunning slash they had just witnessed.

Katie, like Melantha, held her breath. Only after the priest announced the victory did she dare to breathe again.

When Melantha sheathed her sword, little Katie couldn't help but scream.

"Ahhh!! So cool!!"

The children on Rhodes Island shouted excitedly.

Even Instructor Doberman couldn't help but turn his head to glance at Nightblade.

Although Yato's eyes were covered by an eyepatch, her slightly open mouth still revealed her great surprise.

"Such a fast cut."

Dobermann said it deliberately.

"What do you say?"

Yato didn't answer Dobermann, but instead looked at a certain armored warrior sitting around the altar, clapping enthusiastically like everyone else.

He looked like a father attending a school festival, clapping excitedly for his daughter who had just given a wonderful performance.

"It's a very familiar move, but in terms of this one strike alone, I'm no match for her."

Yato made such a comment, and then shook her head.

"I really don't know what this immortal man can't do."

...

As night fell, the city of Minos did not fall silent.

Tourists linger in the city, and Minos, illuminated all night, has a unique charm.

In a side hall next to the altar, the warriors drank fine wine and enjoyed delicious food together, making friends with heroes from all directions with great enthusiasm.

Three days ago, after the team battle ended, the number of participants in the Undying Arena was suddenly reduced by more than half from over a hundred people.

But the team competition wasn't the main focus; the individual competitions over the next two days were what truly gave all the viewers a visual feast.

Whether it's the renowned warriors from Minos, charging head-on with fierce courage, or the warriors from foreign lands, employing unpredictable and ever-changing tactics.

From an overwhelming victory for the Undead to a more balanced battle where both sides switch roles.

Everyone was simply testing their martial arts skills and courage without risking their lives.

This harmonious atmosphere made everyone thoroughly enjoy the celebration.

"cheers!"

The people of Rhodes Island sat together, raising their glasses.

Among the crowd, there were a few distinctive figures.

Bloodthorn raised his beer with a smile; he had been having a great time in the individual competition these past two days.

Maria grinned foolishly, even though the glass in her hand contained juice instead of beer, she was still very happy.

Zofia smiled and raised her glass, her face beaming with pride.

Surtr didn't react much, but still raised his glass like the others.

Morton, on the other hand, raised his glass, which was noticeably two or three sizes larger than the others', and downed it in one gulp with a hearty laugh.

In the past few days of fighting, Morton has been the star of the show, crushing all the other warriors who also wielded heavy weapons to death with his heavy hammer.

His matches are always exhilarating, with the dull clashes and battle cries becoming the main theme of the battle.

As a frontier hero of Minos, his popularity has soared once again.

However, what made Dobermann and Yato happy was that Morton agreed to go back to Rhodes Island with them after the match.

After meeting the people of Rhodes Island, this forthright man was filled with anticipation for Rhodes Island, which they described as a gathering place for many powerful individuals.

Of course, some people might worry that his willingness to contact Rhodes Island is because of the brilliant female swordsman Melantha.

After all, in several team matches between Morton and Melantha, he willingly handed over the main attacker position to Melantha, becoming a supporting player himself.

Moreover, Melantha is quite popular. In the past few days, everyone's hotel has frequently received gifts for Melantha, as well as flowers from the free-spirited Minoan men.

But only the people on Rhodes Island understood that this guy's focus wasn't on Melantha at all.

Even

"Um... Mr. War Knight... do you think it's possible?"