In the gladiatorial arena, the roar of wild beasts echoed, full of vitality and hunger.

Scar entered first, holding a sword and shield in his hand, and arrived in the middle of the arena. The gate to the entrance and exit on the opposite side had not yet opened. This is the usual practice. The beasts' attacks are always unpredictable, and it's not uncommon to linger for half a day and refuse to play, pounce on them as soon as they look at them, and end the fight before the audience is ready.

Scar waited quietly on the field for a few minutes, and the gate on the opposite side finally went up.

Before the beast could be seen, its low roar resounded through the audience. The desert leopard slowly walked out of the gate and towards the center of the field.

It was a huge beast, fur the same color as the sand of the desert. That's probably where its name comes from. It is the kind of natural predator that can be seen at a glance, with muscular muscles bulging high under its fur, huge lower ends of its forelimbs, and sharp claws. Green eyes embedded in the huge head, glittering in the sun.

Its long tail was straight, facing the scar, and its long sharp teeth protruded from its upper jaw and buckled in an arc to its powerful jaw.

He looks a lot like a leopard, but is much larger than a leopard. With thick forelimbs and short hind limbs, it was clearly not the kind of beast that was suitable for running long distances. But any carnivore that is not good at running has one characteristic: it is more explosive and destructive in the short term, and can subdue and kill prey much larger than them. The slam of its claws will have nightmarish deadly power beyond the reach of a human body.

The desert leopard stopped and looked over with his eyes. Scar didn't flinch, and met its gaze directly.

Its eyes are large, with green eyes, dark pupils, and a sloppy look, which makes people instinctively think that it is deserting. But carnivores don't desert.

Then Scar realizes that he had made a mistake and that he shouldn't have made eye contact with the beast.

The desert leopard's gaze is unusually fierce, full of an indescribable deterrent. It declares to Scar naked, straightforwardly, that he's just a small prey. This gaze evoked fear in the depths of the human heart, telling him that their race was nothing more than a natural weakling who would only be hunted and hunted. No matter how deeply this fear is hidden, no matter how small it is, it is drawn out under the coercion of this gaze and permeates the surface of consciousness.

For a moment, Scar's mind went blank, and the thought of dropping his weapon and turning around and fleeing took over his entire mental space. There was no way he could have won this terrible beast in such a battle. Fear made his feet tremble slightly, and his hands could barely hold his shield or sword. Although his reason was resisting, telling him that he must not retreat, let alone drop his weapon and run away, instinctive fear almost triumphed.

Just a little bit.

The chill of death came from the vampire's sword, spreading along the arm and up to the heart. The indescribable, stinging pain that penetrated deep into the bone marrow suddenly rejuvenated his body.

Scar took a step back. But this is only a step back out of prudence, not an escape or giving up.

Although he knew that no matter what he did, the desert leopard would eventually pounce, he decided not to provoke the other party for the time being.

He suddenly found that his hands were already full of sweat at some point. Whether it's a shield or a sword, the sweaty metal feels slippery. The touch makes the stomach feel like a knot.

Don't let me go wrong at this time, O gods of the starfield. Scar prayed in his heart. It was the first time in such a long time that he prayed to God in the gladiatorial arena.

The long, narrow green eyes wandered, their eyes glazed and shimmered with an elusive light. Whatever the eyes were trying to do, its original goal: to deter the opponent so that it could win without a fight had failed.

The desert leopard leapt to its feet and lunged at Scar.

The blow was swift but too monotonous. The distance between them is too far. Scar shielded himself with a shield and flashed this blow.

The iron sheet on the surface of the shield resounded with a tooth-aching sound of metal grinding. Scar saw four more scratches on the shield. Normally, only a dagger or dagger can create such marks with a full blow.

The desert leopard let out a low roar, as if trying to express something. Then it turned around and rushed at it a second time.

It doesn't matter what exactly it wants to say.

In an instant, Scar stabbed the beast in the throat with a sharp sword, but the desert leopard was far more agile and swift than it seemed. It dodged the sword, slamming one of its front paws into Scar's shield.

This grasp directly cut through the metal layer on the surface of the shield, and the force was so great that he staggered away with the scar, and almost lost his balance.

The desert leopard rushed up for the third time. This time, Scar didn't dare to block hard, but used a very skillful way to unload the force, blocking the blow with a shield.

This amount of force, if you are caught in the front, will directly separate the thighs or arms from the body.

Suddenly, Scar found himself in a debt of gratitude to the coaches, especially Shag. If he had been wearing armor at the moment, he would have died faster. There was no way he could dodge so dexterously in armor, and even if the armor could block the claws, it would never be able to block the force that was enough to break a bone's bones.

The desert leopard immediately dispelled Scar's stupid idea. Its tail swept over and struck Scar's calf. The force of this blow will definitely not be worse than the blow of the leather whip master with all his strength. The crunch of bones snapping, a sharp pain followed, and Scar staggered, realizing that his legs could no longer support his body, and he could only half-kneel.

The desert leopard pounced from the front.

It wasn't stupid at all, it wasn't going to attack with its claws at all, it was just a simple impact. Use your body to knock this human who has lost its balance down, and then it can do whatever it wants.

Scar raises his shield. But the shield has no effect on this slamming/slamming. The desert leopard slammed headlong into the shield, knocking Scar straight down and then crushing under its body.

It pounces on its prey. Now, between it and its prey, only the shield is the backyard barrier. Its claws pressed against the pesky obstacle, trying to tear it apart or break it away, then tear and nip the flesh of its prey. The victory that was on the verge of reaching its mouth and was only a glimmer of victory drove it into a frenzy of excitement, and its huge claws gripped at the surface of the shield one by one, cutting through the metal surface of the shield and cutting deep into the oak.

Scar was crushed underneath, the low roar of the desert leopard seemed to echo in his ears, and the sheer weight was too great for him to break free. The foul-smelling breath of a carnivore filled his nostrils.

Scar raised his right hand and stabbed the beast that was pressing on him, the touch of his hand telling him that the blade had penetrated through the thick fur and reached the flesh. Because his view was blocked, he couldn't tell where he had struck. I guess it hit between the neck and the shoulders. Because the desert leopard let out a terrifying roar in its throat and curled its hind legs.

The blood of the desert leopard ran down the blade and onto the hilt, feeling warm and sticky.

With a mixture of physical pain and bloodthirsty craving, the desert leopard burst into a new force. The iron sheet covered with the shield could not withstand so many blows, and finally fell off, was lifted by the claws and tossed aside. More blows fell on the shield, and shards of oak flew in all directions. It roared and screamed, frantically attacking the already vulnerable shield with its teeth and claws.

At the time of life and death, Scar also used his strength to breastfeed. His muscles bulged high, and with every force he struck, he thrust his sword deep into it, hoping to give a little color to its critical organs.

One of the desert leopard's hind legs kicked forward, and the claws immediately tore through the coarse cloth pants, leaving a huge wound on Scar's leg. But now, Scar felt no pain, and his only thought was to plunge the sword deeper into the desert leopard's body.

A crack appeared in the back of the shield, and the claws had torn the thick shield, and the tips of the claws had pierced a row of transparent holes in the shield. But Scar could feel that the desert leopard's movements were getting slower and slower, and its blows were getting weaker and weaker. Even the huge weight it weighed on Scar's body was gradually decreasing.

Because it was no longer able to maintain its previous posture, it began to lean to the side.

Scar took advantage of this opportunity and turned over, instead crushing the beast under the shield. This posture made it very uncomfortable, and it struggled hard, but its strength had decayed so much that it could not break free. Scar fell to his knees, persistently pushing the sword into its body. The beast let out a terrifying scream, its voice full of near-death pain.

As usual, the sound didn't take Scar into relief.

He held this position, and he didn't know how long it had been. Until the last one was sure that the beast under the shield was completely stiff and unable to move. He let go of the grip of the shield, unbuckled the belt, and tried to stand up, only to realize that he could not do so.

One of his legs was a blur of flesh and blood, and the other was simply twisted into an unusual, eerie arc.

There was silence in the arena, and no audience made a sound. Perhaps they were intimidated by the thrilling battle, or perhaps Scar's own ears had lost their function.

His hand let go of the sword. The sword had already penetrated too deep into the beast's body to pull it out. This time the magic sword played a big role. If this were an ordinary longsword, it wouldn't have been able to stab so deeply.

"I've survived!" he suddenly raised his hands and let out a silent cry towards the sky.

He lowered his hands and looked around. The vision began to blur, and the whole world shook.

What's going on? Is there an earthquake?

Scar's brain was dazed, and such a thought suddenly came to him.

Next, the only thing he remembered was that the world was ninety degrees, and the whole thing was distorted.