High-Martial World: System Arrives 30 Years Late

Chapter 659: Chapter 442: Deathmatch, Inconceivable Remains, and the Demon God’s Shock!

The headache became more intense until a certain figure appeared before his eyes.

It was a woman in a white long dress, her face delicate, her eyes tender yet tinged with a hint of shyness.

"Welcome back..."

Beside the woman, there was a little girl, about eight or nine years old, with two horn-like braids, who leapt towards him, tickling with her braids.

In the image, the two were happily saying something, but at this moment, the frail figure in the darkness felt like his head was being split open by an axe, unable to hear any sounds.

Huff huff huff-------

All that remained was the sound of panting like a beast.

"Heh heh, this kid is really afraid of dying, got scared this easily?"

The dungeon was filled once more with reckless jeers.

As the panting slowed, the frail figure’s whole body was trembling, but his eyes became even more resolute, unshakable as a mountain, his skeletal fingers clenched tightly, making cracking sounds.

"Who are they?"

He kept asking himself over and over, holding his head, but there was no answer in the dungeon, only occasional mocking laughter.

"Whoever they are, they must be important to me, yes, they must be very important..."

"They are still waiting for me..."

"I can’t die, I cannot die... I must not die here!"

In the darkness, he made up his mind, and after calming his emotions slightly, he felt a rumbling hunger, then reached into his arms, pulling out a piece of roasted bread, tearing and devouring it greedily.

"I need to replenish my energy... this flesh is too fragile..."

Only by surviving, can there be a chance for anything.

In the dead of night, the dungeon shook, amidst the dripping water, occasionally came a few fierce roars from the underground, upon hearing these inhuman roars, many in the dungeon shuddered violently, their faces turning pale, each curling up their body.

They all knew well, that was the roar of the Barbaric Beasts starved for half a month, their roars longing to feed, longing to slaughter.

And they...

Will be the fresh blood feast for the Barbaric Beasts tomorrow.

According to the usual routine, if three to five out of a hundred survive, it would be the arena and tomorrow’s Saint Race watching guests showing great mercy.

More often, it was a total annihilation, then being torn apart by the beasts, becoming blood meals...

Fear, despair spread through the dark dungeon.

The whole dungeon was dead silent, the mocking laughter vanished, leaving only figures curled up in the dark, shivering and twitching.

In the darkness, everyone felt the seconds like years, this night was unbearably long.

Except for one figure, whose eyes were becoming brighter.

Until footsteps approached, then came the harsh sound of metal friction, like a rusty key being forcibly inserted into a lock hole, then turned left and right.

A dozen tall figures with ghostly blue skin of the Saint Race entered the dungeon, each wearing the standard robes of the Beast Fighting Arena, blood red.

Seeing these figures, the Mixed Bloods in the dungeon couldn’t help but shrink back one by one, as the leading Saint Race person spoke a few indifferent words, then those behind him walked towards each dungeon.

Clang, clang.

The sound of metal falling echoed in the dim dungeon.

A rusty, bladed, broken sword was thrown outside the iron cage.

The frail figure slowly opened his eyes, meeting eyes in the darkness.

"Ah?!"

A sudden exclamation came from the mouth of a Beast Fighting Arena staff member, he instinctively retreated a few steps, at that moment he felt like he was being stared at by a dormant world-class beast.

Such a terrifying aura.

What was going on?

How could a lowly Mixed Blood have such a terrifying aura, it must be an illusion!

"What’s the matter, Bro, what are you yelling about? Could it be that you’ve been scared by a mere lowly Mixed Blood?"

"No, no, it’s not, how could I be scared by a lowly Mixed Blood, I just suddenly thought of something, yes, that’s it."

"Hmph, the weapons have been distributed, take them away, there are quite a few esteemed guests at the arena today, if there’s any delay, and the esteemed guests’ interests are disturbed, you all know the consequences clearly."

"Yes!"

Bro felt extremely angry under the mocking and jeering gazes of his colleagues, he immediately wanted to vent his anger on the Mixed Blood who made him lose face.

Turning around, just as he was about to lash out.

That illusion hit again, even stronger this time.

In Bro’s vision, the frail figure with shackles in the dungeon reached out calmly to pick up the broken sword outside the dungeon, then emerged from the darkness.

Clearly a frail, skeleton-like figure, but at that instant, Bro’s world suddenly grew dark, as if a huge beast blocked out the light.

Gulp.

Bro swallowed a mouthful of saliva abruptly, not daring to look at that frail figure, he quickly turned away, giving a low shout.

"Take away... take them all away!"

The frail figure holding the broken sword, along with the other death row inmates in the dungeon, were taken out by the Beast Fighting Arena staff.

Through dim ascending steps, after an unknown number of steps, a heavy iron door exuding a hint of light appeared before them.

The next second, the iron door was violently opened.

Boom!

Light poured down, such a beautiful thing was too dazzling for the lowly Mixed Bloods living in the dungeon.

Therefore, one by one, the figures, including the frail figure, couldn’t help but raise their hands to cover their eyes.

Reemerging in the daylight, traversing a narrow corridor, only wide enough for one person to pass.

Stepping out from the corridor.

A strong salty, metallic scent filled with the smell of blood poured into their noses.