Chapter 741: Golden Behemoth
The Arena was colossal—its central open ground stretched for tens of thousands of meters. Around it, tiered stands rose, each layer over ten meters tall, ascending like a giant staircase. The highest tier soared over a thousand meters!
The architecture here was ancient and imposing. Every style and shape belonged to the mythic era.
Even the stones used for construction were crafted from the hardest anti-magic material—Abyssal Demonstone. This stone resisted magical corrosion and the ravages of time, remaining nearly unchanged for millennia.
Yet now, this ancient Arena bore many marks of weathering. It exuded a desolate, timeworn aura. Standing in its center, Leon and his companions felt as insignificant as ants in a human arena.
After looking around, Leon felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if he'd seen this place somewhere before...
Moments later, Leon suddenly shuddered, disbelief flickering in his eyes as he stared at a distant wall.
On that wall, a relief depicted a minotaur with one broken horn, clutching a crude, massive axe...
Beside it stood a hunched, emaciated mage, bony spines protruding from his twisted back...
After seeing several such carvings, Leon finally cried out, "How is this possible!"
Anderson glanced around, and as he heard Leon's outcry, all three of his faces showed fear.
"Merlin, you recognize this place?"
Leon kept surveying the surroundings. Everything matched the records perfectly—even the images he’d seen were exactly the same.
"This is the King's Coliseum!"
He checked again and again—the details were identical to the records, even the smallest features matched the images. There was no way he could be mistaken.
The King's Coliseum, built in the mythic era, was created by the ancestors of all races to entertain the Elder Gods and Demons.
During the God-Demon Era, the ancestors selected their strongest gladiators and sent them to the King's Coliseum. The most powerful royal bloodlines from countless races fought to the death here, all to please the gods and demons.
Spectators here weren’t just the ancestors of all races—the Elder Gods and Demons themselves would come to watch. If a gladiator pleased them during battle, the gods and demons might even bestow their blessings personally.
There was once a legend: an Avian blessed with sacred power won eight consecutive matches, but in the ninth faced a formidable foe who tore his wings off.
In the end, the Avian relied on cunning—he and his opponent died together. The foe’s weapon pierced his heart, but he managed to sever his enemy’s head.
This Avian, blessed with sacred power, showed none of the nobility or honor one might expect—his fighting style was as cunning as the darkest necromancer. The Death Lord, watching the match, was delighted.
The King's Coliseum had a rule: once you entered, you had to fight nine battles in a row. Only after surviving all nine could you leave.
The Death Lord was so pleased with the Avian that he felt it was a shame for him to die in the final round. At the last moment, he bestowed a blessing.
Just as he was about to perish, the Avian received the Death Lord's blessing: Deathless Avatar.
The Avians' weakness lies in their hearts—their source of power and their fatal flaw. If the heart is destroyed, death is certain. But the Deathless Avatar allowed this Avian to instantly transform into a skeletal undead when mortally wounded.
Once transformed into a skeleton, his heart—the greatest weakness—vanished. He gained the undead's immortality; even if his body was shattered, he could not die as long as his power remained. As a skeleton, he was truly deathless.
And he didn't even have the undead's weakness to soul fire!
Though the blessing only activated upon a mortal blow, it allowed the Avian to survive and become a flawless being.
Such miracles were rare. Over countless years, very few ever left the King's Coliseum alive. Those who did were almost always blessed by gods or demons—some were even recruited as generals under their banners.
The ancestor of the Dark Elves was one who emerged alive from the King's Coliseum. Because of this, Constantine the Sage granted the Dark Elves magical power and protection.
But this was mostly a matter of luck. Nearly every gladiator died in the King's Coliseum!
In the King's Coliseum, you were never given a weaker opponent. Each successive match brought a stronger foe—nine battles in a row, each harder than the last.
During the era of god and demon rule, only Sky Rank warriors ever managed to leave the King's Coliseum alive.
A Title Archmage could never win nine consecutive matches after entering.
Each opponent was a rank higher than the last—even if a first-rank Title Archmage entered, by the ninth match they'd be facing a Sky Rank master.
The gap between first and ninth-rank Title Archmages was already despair-inducing; but the difference between Sky Rank and Title Archmage was like mortals versus those who had surpassed mortal limits.
Only Sky Rank masters had a chance to leave the King's Coliseum alive...
In those days, every race sent its mightiest royal bloodline to the King's Coliseum, hoping to win the gods' favor and protection. Only the strongest of each race qualified to enter.
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In that era, the will of gods and demons was absolute. Even the strongest among all races were but fragile ants before them—one finger could crush them countless times.
Receiving the protection and blessings of gods and demons was the key to a race's survival.
Countless champions perished here—many royal bloodlines were extinguished in the King's Coliseum, and their races faded into history.
Yet some smaller races, blessed by gods and demons, slowly flourished and grew stronger.
At the peak of the King's Coliseum's glory, even gods and demons would sometimes join the fray themselves, just for amusement!
If this really is the King's Coliseum, then we're doomed...
Nine consecutive battles...
In the end, we'll surely have to face a Sky Rank master head-on!
Leon broke out in a cold sweat, his palms slick with fear...
Meanwhile, Anderson quickly explained the King's Coliseum to everyone. Except for Hubert, who was clueless, the rest had all heard of it before.
Now, realizing they might be inside the King's Coliseum, everyone's face went pale with terror...
Anderson was growing increasingly anxious. He couldn't help but urge, "Merlin, we need to get out of here—whether this is the King's Coliseum or not, I have a bad feeling about this place..."
But as soon as Anderson finished speaking, the sound of iron cages opening echoed through the air. The harsh screech of metal made everyone's hair stand on end.
At the edge of the arena, three metal barriers slowly rose, revealing three pairs of icy eyes in the darkness.
Thud... thud... thud...
Heavy footsteps resounded, as if stomping directly on everyone's hearts.
Even Leon couldn't help but swallow nervously.
Slowly, three hulking figures emerged from the darkness.
The one on the left resembled a gorilla, but its fur was entirely golden and bristled like steel needles. It had three eyes—two blood-red, one cold golden slit on its forehead—and four arms. It stood over ten meters tall!
The one in the middle looked like a three-tailed fox, but each tail was a different color, and there were six tails in total. Its body was just over a meter long, and a thick, spiral horn grew from its forehead.
The one on the right resembled a Stone Golem, but unlike the usual bulky form, its body was streamlined, over eight meters tall, and covered in intricate natural runes—true innate magic markings!