Slave Eleven had been living in this underground concentration camp for decades. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

Years of silence have degraded his language system, as there is no one to talk to. Every day, in addition to sitting in a cage in a daze, he went to the gladiatorial arena to fight to the death with people whose fate was as tragic as his.

Luckily, it's often him who wins. Rather than being dragged to a dump by the scavengers and burned, he prefers to win the race and get the hard-earned and tempting reward of a delicious steak. Because on days when there is no competition, he can only bite the hardest black bread and drink the thinnest gruel in the corner of the cage.

The same days made him almost forget who his last name was. And he has gradually changed from a young and strong young man to an old man in his last years.

But metabolism is an eternal truth.

Today, I'm afraid Eleven is going to die in the gladiatorial arena.

His opponent, Number Two Hundred and Thirty-Three, was a burly young man. As soon as the scene began, the two men each held scimitars and began to fiercely slash each other. Soon, Eleven was a little overwhelmed. The strength of the two hundred and thirty-three was too great for him to resist.

The reason why Eleven can survive to this day is entirely due to his rich practical experience. He can always find the opponent's flaws and make moves to win. And the opponent's tactics of purely relying on strength are exactly the type he least wants to encounter. Compared with strength, maybe he is twenty years younger and has a chance to win.

The final moments came sooner than expected.

I saw No. 233 slashing horizontally, and No. 11 lost his center of gravity in order to dodge backwards, and fell to the ground on his back. Two hundred and thirty-three was willing to let go of this opportunity, he leaned forward, and in an instant he rode on the eleventh.

"Well done! Kill him!"

"Kill that old ghost!"

The imminent victory of the 233rd brought the emotions of the spectators to a climax in an instant. For a while, the voices in the field were unprecedentedly united, and they all bet on No. 233. No one is going to throw money at that old guy.

Number 233 raised his scimitar in both hands and was about to stab ......

Suddenly, a horn suddenly sounded, echoing over the empty gladiatorial arena.

The scimitar in the hands of the two hundred and thirty-three stood still in mid-air.

The dueling arena has always had a rule, and when the horn sounds, it means that there are invaders in the underground world at this time. All personnel are to assist in the capture of the intruders, and all other activities are to be terminated immediately.

It seems that today is a lucky day for the 11th.

However, the damned sound of the horn sounded to the ears of the spectators, but it was simply a signal for the game to stop immediately. Seeing that the dealer is about to lose money, this situation will only make the spectators dissatisfied.

"Damn it!"

"At such a critical moment!"

"Black-box operation!"

The spectators were chattering, and the scene was very chaotic for a while.

Young people are just following the rules.

No. 11 looked at No. 233, who was stunned by the sound of the horn, his eyes flashed, and the scimitar in his right hand was swung upward.

A fresh skull was removed with a knife.

Eleven kicked the corpse aside and straightened up. There is no doubt that the victory belongs to him.

At this time, the spectators exploded even more.

"Bastard!

"The game is suspended!

Angry spectators began throwing small objects at hand into the arena.

Several objects hit the Dead Eleven, leaving bruises on his head. But what the people in the stands do is no longer important to No. 11. He only knew that he was alive, and that was enough. Even if it was brown bread and gruel, he wanted to eat it for longer.

The longer, the better.

Bang!

The sudden loud gunfire caused the spectators to shut their foul mouths, and instead screamed and fled.

Eleven looked up suspiciously, and found two men running frantically on the observation corridor at the top of the arena, and they would turn around and shoot from time to time, a move that made the chasers behind them tremble and dare not get too close to them.

The bullets of the pursuers failed to reach the corners of the clothes of the two people in front of them once.

Really bad marksmanship. It seems that the employees here have been pampered for a long time, and the fighting skills of the past have long been rusty.

Wait! Something seems to be out of order! Eleven looked at the entrance to the Colosseum and saw that it was empty. Normally, a cleaning team would have entered the field to recover the bodies of the vanquished.

Eleven's mind flashed through the light, and he understood why. That is, now the people in the gladiatorial arena are busy catching the invaders.

So today, it's a rare time to escape.

The moment he decided to escape, Eleven suddenly felt surging and excited. After decades of silence, he will fight for freedom again today.

Needless to say, I can only wish him success.

......

Passing through the cloisters of the Colosseum, Eric and Papitt came to the rusted iron door of the Black Market.

Eric looked out and saw that everything was exactly the same as when they entered. It seems that the vendors have not received any news yet.

But they couldn't run, it would be too eye-catching, and the suspicious vendor owner might even stop them.

"Quick, follow my pace!"

Papitt immediately made a judgment. He strode out into the hall. That's the fastest speed between walking and running.

Eric admired Papitt's ingenuity.

But he wanted to remind Papitt that the blood on his chest and shoulders was more eye-catching than anything else.

It's just that, seeing those ironclad bloodstains, Eric's brain was once again squeezed by monstrous doubts, and it could be deformed at any time.

Why are you still alive?

If he could, Eric would have held Papitt down immediately, even if it was torture to make him spit out the mystery.

But reason tells Eric that now is not the right time.

Several bosses have already spotted large patches of blush on Papitt's body.

The two of them walked silently.

More and more eyes converged on the two of them.

The two trotted up.

The bosses finally realized something. Began to officially block the two.

In the face of the guy blocking the road, the two were also polite and took out their pistols again.

The sound of gunfire was incessant.

One of the owners who sold smuggled guns even picked up the merchandise on the table. But before he could load his bullet, the head had already been shot open by Eric.

I'm sorry. Eric thought to himself. He wanted to just wound the other party, but the bullet was far from his expectations. It seems that the newly restored Beta Eye has gone awry due to the use of it too hard.

Seeing that there were more and more pursuers in the rear, the gunfire became more and more intense. Papitt slowed down a little and moved behind Eric and ran.

Eric was puzzled at first, but then he understood what Papitt was doing.

Papitt was shot in the back.