The Titan's Throne

Madness

"This is a twin rumble competition! There shall only be one team surviving. The winning team will be offered a spot in the qualifying tournament for the Elite Gladiator League!"

The entire arena went into an uproar as soon as the announcement was finished.

"Wow, that means I can make it to the big shots!"

"T-this, is this real?"

"The Elite Gladiator League! Man, the prize this time is serious! No wonder there were almost no newbies in the match today!"

Elite Gladiator League?

Although Sebastian knew about some of the deathmatch customs, he realized then that he only knew those which had spread to the Southern Grasslands. This Elite Gladiator League was something he had never heard of. But one thing was for sure. Its name made all the contestants enter into a frenzy.

Even though they had already been forced into a situation where they were fighting for their lives, the contestants had not been this fervent before.

It seems this league is something big. This will be troublesome.

As the saying goes, a man will reluctantly sell his house to keep his life, but he is more than willing to sell his home for glory.

Bastian quickly put away such thoughts and came back to what was important. The gauntlets!

Normally the enchanted shackles also prevented one from taking World Energy in. Yet when Bastian put his yuan into the gloves, World Energy rushed into his body like an avalanche.

How is this possible? Do the gauntlets act as a World Energy conduit?

The original purpose of creating such an enchanted tool was to speed up cultivation, but it seems this function had an added bonus as well. It could bypass the restrictions set by the enchanted shackles.

This means that as long as I have these gloves, I can cultivate! Incredible!

As Bastian was enthralled by his discovery, the voice once more rang out.

"Fighters, take your positions! The battle will start in 50 breaths worth of time!"

As soon as Bastian heard this voice, he suddenly realized an important fact.

Doesn't this mean I'm about to kill someone for the first time?

Ever since coming into this world, Bastian had not really been in a battle against other humans. His only experience was facing the Kalari scorpions. This meant that the person he killed first in that arena would be the first life he had ever taken!

How intriguing!

Due to the power rush, he felt from the gloves and the mindset he was currently in, Bastian had a rather devious thought, which he immediately put into action.

"All of the walking corpses in this arena! Face me immediately!" shouted Bastian at the top of his lungs.

All of the contestants who were readying themselves were caught off guard. They looked toward Bastian's direction with a confused look on most of their faces. Bastian smiled and nodded when he saw that he had everyone's attention.

"Listen up. The first person to die by my hands today will have an incredible honour! That honour is, that person will be the first person slain by my hands! If you name yourself and volunteer your life without resistance, then I will name you as the first man or woman who fell by my hands and history will forever remember you! Tell me, friends, what greater glory is there than this?"

"The Battle may begin!"

As the announcement rang out across the arena, the expected screams and shouts did not sound out. Instead, only silence was there. As if no sound was allowed within the arena.

The contestants were far too baffled to even fight. After hearing what Bastian had just said, they were astonished to the point that a few weak-minded people dropped their weapons.

After a few moments, when Bastian's words had finally sunk in into some of the competitors, a myriad of different expressions flashed upon the many faces in the arena.

"Who the heck do you think you are?"

"Boy, you are courting death!"

"Haha, a newborn lamb truly does not fear a tiger."

Many shouts of anger, humiliation and sometimes amusement came out of the mouths of the warriors. Bastian's words had aroused their ire and sometimes their humour.

All of the people within this arena had experienced countless life and death battles to the extent that many had already found pleasure in walking the line between life and death. They were not normal people, and they often took pride in their insanity.

Even though they were about to kill each other, no one held a grudge against the other. The general consensus amongst competitors in high-class arenas such as this was to give face to your opponent, even in victory, as long as they were warriors such as yourself.

Yet this teenage boy claimed it would be an honour for someone to die by his hands. Many had questioned in their minds why such a person had been included in that fight.

These men were battle-hardened, so they were sensitive to bloodlust. They could tell at a glance that Bastian had never killed anyone before. Not to mention that he was unconscious at the time he was brought to the arena. Thus, his addition to this battle was an insult to the pride of many warriors in the arena. This, followed by his words, started a storm of rage that ran rampant across the hearts of these prideful warriors.

His tongue was like a lit matchstick thrown onto the ground, in a forest covered in petroleum, and as such, it sparked an inferno that turned the skin of many people pink. Eyes became bloodshot. Veins bulged. Fists clenched. Muscles tensed. Chests heaved up and down followed by unusually audible breathing.

Even the people, who were first amused, started having grave expressions on their faces once they saw the condescending look on Bastian's face.

Bastian knew full well what he had done. Although he just wanted to be cheeky and anger these walking corpses, he had his reasons.

Firstly he wanted them all to come at him. He wanted to test the limits of this body. A body with an awakened bloodline showed its value in moments like these, where foes were unable to use their cultivation.

The second reason was that Bastian wanted to kill as many people as possible. He knew that to survive, he had to kill many people. So, he wanted to get used to killing as soon as possible.

The third reason was to market himself. A person in such a situation is essentially a slave, thus your life is in the hands of another. Although these warriors were seasoned fighters, none of them were true gladiators, for a true gladiator had a Master who they serve and fight for.

Everyone here was owned by the establishment itself, thus they were not true gladiators. Bastian wanted to become a gladiator as soon as possible. That way, he would be able to acquire his freedom faster. Not to mention the fact that being a gladiator had many benefits.

The previous league that had been announced had made all the fighters here lick their lips in fervour. It was, clearly something important. Although Bastian was not quite sure what it was, if it was a good thing, then having a Master would improve his chances. The best way, therefore, was to gain attention is by showcasing one's strength.

The two warriors closest to Bastian were a pair of axe wielders. They were about to move on him when they heard a loud shout from behind them.

"Stop!"

The two immediately halted in their steps, for they knew very well who this voice belonged to. He was the oldest and most experienced contestant in this round, and arguably the most famous.

Bastian looked to see where the voice came from; curious to see who it was that had stopped the two axe wielders from acting.

It was a very large middle-aged man. His upper body was riddled with scars and he had an eye patch on his left eye. His entire head was bald and his stature was very intimidating, so much so that as he walked toward Bastian, everyone made way for him. He had a large sabre in his right hand and it, just like him, had marks everywhere, showing how many battles it had seen.

Chained to the large man was another middle-aged man. He was average in terms of build but his body had virtually no visible scars or injury. All he had that made him stand out were his two daggers. He merely followed behind the giant, saying nothing.

Bastian looked on in interest. He wanted to see what this baldy was going to do. As soon as the giant man was only a few meters away from Bastian, he halted. His eye looked at Bastian with a stern expression. Almost as if he was attempting to suppress the boy merely with his vision.

"Sir Tate is angry! This boy is in for it."

"One strike from Sir Tate is all it would take for the boy to lose his life."

"How fortunate for the boy to die by Sir Tate's hand, it is truly an honour too great for that girly piece of crap."

As he looked at the behemoth in front of him, Bastian ignored all the comments from the other fighters. They did not faze him until he heard the word 'girly'. His face almost cringed in frustration.

It's not like I wanted to look like a woman you bastard!

Bastian wanted so much to see the face of the man who had insulted him but the imposing presence of the giant in front of him made it hard for him to look away. The large man did not say anything. His eye just darted all over Bastian's body, until it rested on his gauntlets.

When it did this, the giant raised his sword, a smile plastering his face. This only made his imposing presence more imposing. Bastian was very unhappy with what he was seeing

This looks difficult. I'm going to have to go all out if I am going to beat this guy.