The house under the steps of the Colosseum was dilapidated and dirty, and the wooden shaft of the only small window had broken in the humid air from rust and mold. The greedy and miserly master of the arena later sent his slaves to nail it to it with two thin planks, so that the light from the outside could only penetrate through the narrow gaps, forming a pitiful slanting spot on the ground in the middle of the house.

The stillness of darkness was like a noose tightening around the hunter's neck, and while the sun was radiating glare at the apex of the sky, the only spots that could sneak into the dark room were spots that swayed with the leaves in the wind.

A dozen Mars infantry locked the iron door and immediately exited the basement, which was filled with feces and urine scratches. Shaking the chain-tightened cast-iron door vigorously, Riga slowly approached the musty bed after making sure she couldn't leave. It was only when his eyes had adjusted to the darkness that the hunter touched the linen sheets, which could only see faint shadows, and shook them. He didn't stop until he could no longer stand the choking dust, throwing it back into the messy haystack on the ground. "Hybrids. The Quaid roared angrily. The sound travels through narrow passages, and at the end it is as thick and high as a horn blowing in the ear.

The rooms around Riga were already inhabited by gladiators, and these soulless samurai, tamed by their slave owners, had not gone mad because of the unknown fate. They cowered in the corner like wounded and lonely beasts, praying earnestly to Alani, the goddess of fate, while trying to save every ounce of their precious energy.

"Shut your foul mouth, or I'll cut off your fork (please bring it in automatically) and stuff it into your mouth. "The hunter's 'neighbors' sound angry. For gladiators whose prayers were interrupted, there was a good chance that the gods would have doom for their impudence.

When you start learning a language, it's usually the first thing you can pick up on the insulting last name. Although the Quaid could only speak the stilted lingua franca, he was able to speak and understand the dirty words. "Bastard in a skirt, I'll definitely tear you apart if I get the chance. The hunter immediately replied loudly.

The gladiators shouted viciously until a whistle was blown at the other end of the narrow passage. The shrill whistle that sounded in the narrow passage made everyone hold their heads until the screams of pain that seemed to come from the abyssal bats stopped.

"Stop the useless invective, scumbags. With a loud call like a drum, a tall figure with a dim yellow light quickly approached. The long whip in his hand swung violently, and the thunderclap-like thrashing quickly silenced the gladiators. The slaves who followed him, carrying lanterns in their hands, immediately put food in front of the door where the gladiators were closed. "You should save every bit of energy. Until you rip open the throats of your enemies and emerge victorious, all of you will be a lowly beast. ”

The whip-wielder's boots slammed regularly on the ground, stopping only when they reached the deepest iron gate. The lantern in the slave's hand emitted a dim light, causing an ugly yellow color to spread all over the dilapidated house. The Quaid standing in the middle immediately covered his eyes, and only when his eyes adjusted to the light coming in from outside the iron gate did Riga slowly approach the sturdy and heavy iron door. He whispered in a beastly roaring voice, "What's going on, do I need to stay here all night before accepting the challenge?"

"You do that. The stranger replied to him in a very authentic Quaid. "It's the rule of the gladiatorial arena, and everyone who participates has to arrive here two days in advance. After receiving uniform food and body cleanup, a fair fight can be fought outside. And you guy who stroked Lady Luck's ankle just has to wait a day. ”

"In this cage of rats? You're insulting the warriors of Hirag. The Quid took another step forward, then grasped the finger-thick irregular iron rod in both hands. His stout, majestic arms shook vigorously, causing the junction of the iron door and the plank above his head to crash like a fruit on the ground.

"It's fair treatment, even for the king who enters here. The stranger took the lantern and the saucer from the slave who followed behind him. "This is your food for tonight and tomorrow morning, and when the sun rises again, the yellow sand of the Colosseum will drink your blood. ”

The stranger raised the parchment-pasted lantern a little, and after illuminating half of his face, he took an oak cup about five inches high. "I almost forgot, this is the ale that the Colosseum has specially provided for you. He carefully placed the cup on the ground, and coughed as if he had choked.

"Let's go. The stranger turned to the slave who came with him and grumbled. "You lazy moths, this place should be cleaned up. There weren't many rats or tickles, but the musty smell made me want to vomit all the time. ”

The three men quickly left the passageway, and when the dim yellow of the light faded from view, Riga slowly reached out and dragged the food outside the iron door through the crack under the door. The clay plates on which the gladiatorial master served food were rough and out of shape, apparently the work of some cheap apprentice. However, it is not without its advantages, as the dish is usually a little deeper, allowing more food to be served.

Riga picked up the food she had dragged in and sniffed it, then discerned it for a moment by the light leaking through the slit. It took a dozen breaths for Quaid to see what they were. One dish contained bitter oatmeal soaked in hard cakes made of unknown flour, while the other contained a shriveled little pickled apple and two stinky salted fish, from which even the hunter could lift off the unevenly spread coarse grains of salt.

Cursing in a low voice, he slammed the plate to the ground, and Riga carefully picked up the cup through the crack in the iron door. There was no problem with the ale wine inside, at least it wasn't mixed with water like the deceitful merchants sold to the tribe. But when the hunter gulped it down, a foreign mass suddenly choked his throat.

"Ahem, ahem. The Quaid coughed in panic a few times, and then sat down on the ground to gasp for breath after spitting it out. "This crumb. The hunter cursed, then tried to fumble for it.

The mass was neither soft nor hard, but had some hard edges and corners around it, but they could be deformed by the force of the fingers. "It feels like coarse parchment for writing. Rega muttered, then stood up as close as possible to the narrow gap between the planks.

The parchment spreads out with the movement of his fingers, and then the Quaid raises his head and squints to see the line of Quaid's text on it.

"Tomorrow, watch out for Warcraft. ”