Sword and Magic and Taxi

"Hey, Butcher, a glass of mellow sap." Ricas jumped in from outside the fence lightly. The mud cup in his hand was full, but it didn't spill at all.

Thanks to the friend's kindness, and then drank the slightly bitter, mellow drink, Butcher once again cast his eyes to the sky. The afterglow of the setting sun was projected on the skinned roof, and the red of Atast was diffused, like the color of blood. Butcher looked at himself and touched it lightly to make sure it was just the sun's rays. He recalled the **** breakout of Kelmanga, his body was the same red. That time it was not light, but blood, from warm to cold temperature, the smell of blood. But in Kelmanga, there is still the smell of iron and fire, while in the gladiator camp in Tyre, there is only the smell of drinks made from sand, wood and grass roots.

One head started to have a slight headache again, the harm caused by psychic powers. If Mike is here, he should know how to deal with it, and he can also provide treatment for himself. Thinking of the druid who brought him to this desert world, Butcher patted Ricas on the shoulder: "How is it, did you hear any news?"

"Well, I'm already online. I got a relationship through my friend's friend and cooking at the Temple Tower construction site. He has an impression of Mike." Ricas sipped a sip of the mellow tree sap, enjoying the aroma. The sensation of throat dripping. "Wearing an insoluble collar around my neck is actually quite easy to recognize. I have already told my friend about our news. When he gets in touch, I guess it will be three or four days before you can receive a reply. "

"This is the best news I've heard." Butcher looked at the empty glass in his hand, then took Ricas's glass and drank it again. The Moore curled his lips. He was used to such things happening constantly, and he no longer felt annoyed by it. After all, there is a comparison to have happiness: When Butcher takes away other people's things, he will first use his fist and then the sole of his foot.

"I also heard the good news. The two of us have become fixed partners, and we will directly participate in the elimination competition, without consuming physical strength in the melee." Ricas beat his chest with his fist, looking very excited.

Butcher was still calm and serious, and hummed a sentence from his nose: "What's so happy about this?"

"Fixed partner means that we two will not belong to two teams and will not fight each other. Moreover, the risk of melee is very high. We are so conspicuous, we are likely to be besieged. In short, this news means our Victory will become easier, and freedom is not far ahead, my brother!"

"I am not your brother, Moore, but I am willing to give you a piece of advice like a brother." Butcher threw out the cup in his hand and watched it disappear on the other end of the camp wall: "No freedom is not through with the enemy. No! Don’t have illusions, because no psychic powers can give you freedom. Only through blood, through the torture of life and death, will freedom come."

Rikas' excitement diminished, but he still shook his head, indicating that he didn't believe it. "Seriously, Butcher, where did you get this knowledge? Aren't we fighting, aren't we fighting? Look at me, there is enemy blood in my nails!"

"Are your enemies these slaves who are kept in cages every day? What hatred do they have with you?" Butcher knocked Ricas's chest with his fist, and asked: "Are there in their bodies? Your enslaved blood? I tell you, I once asked the lord for freedom, I once prayed to the gods for freedom, but they were all taken away. Then I killed, stepping on the blood to find freedom, but even so , I still haven't got what I want. How can you be sure that others will fulfill the agreement?"

Seeing Butcher's serious expression, Ricas finally put away his last smile. "What you said makes sense. In Artas, how can there be any agreed things that really need to be prepared for freedom? Butcher, if I meet you in battle, I will do my best. "

"I will let you win, because you are more pitiful than me. You have never tasted freedom, even if it is false and short-lived." Butcher watched the last sunset disappear and the blood red faded from his body. Suck it Smashed his lips and said, "Forget it, don't talk about it. Where did you get the drink just now, take me to drink some more."

"Okay, I'll take you there!" Rikas waved his hand, and ran into the trainer of the slave camp within a few steps. Since the black-skinned man was taught by Butcher, he no longer dared to trouble the two of them, let alone whipping them, so the relationship between them was fine. The black man hurried over, and when he saw Ricas he said, "Hey, Ricas, Master Tesian is looking for you, you go over quickly."

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Ricas first told Butcher the location of the sap drink, and then asked.

"I don't know, but it should be a good thing." The black man trainer said in a low voice: "I heard Dolovan say that Master Taixian has prepared a lot of food for you, as well as beautiful women, you are blessed tonight. So See the master"

"Submissive, well-behaved, thankful!" Ricas snorted: "I know, I know."

Following the trainer, Ricas quickly found Texian. The high-ranking templars are always neatly dressed, with an expression of not anger and prestige. The only time the Moors saw him lose such a gesture was when Mike hurt him. "Respected Master," Rikas said very respectfully. For the sake of permanent freedom, he thinks he should behave like this now. This is the price. "Excuse me, what can you tell me?"

"That's it. I have a weapon dealer friend here. He saw your wonderful performance in gladiatorial fights and appreciates you very much."

Following the direction of Taisian's hand, Ricas saw a man with a bull's head. Very weird, but it has nothing to do with him. Ricas knew the preferences of the slave owner and high-ranking templar, and quickly retracted his gaze, prostrated on the ground, and said in a more humble tone: "Master, it is my greatest wish to please you by pleasing your guests. ."

"Well, in order to reward you, this friend of mine is willing to give you a weapon. Metal weapons ~www.NovelMTL.com~ can enable you to perform better at the conference." Tesian said: "You are best at using what?"

"I use a stick for the best, and a spear is fine." Seeing Texian's frowning brows, Ricas felt like lightning. There is no metal on the stick, and the tip of the spear doesn't use much steel. It seems that this so-called "friend" has a normal relationship with the owner. "I can also use a long sword or a machete. My master, everything is at your disposal."

"Then use the long sword, I happen to have a good long sword." The tauren suddenly interjected.

Although Taixian didn't like to be interrupted in his heart, the long sword was also his choice. He quickly put away his displeased expression, and asked Ricas to come forward: "How is your grip, is your wrist flexible?"

"Yes, I keep training in order to win honor for you, and I never dare to relax."

"Very well, I will continue to maintain it in the future." Taixian raised his chin, stretched out his hand, and said: "Come on, let me see your arm."

He took Ricas's arm and looked over and over again, seeming to admire the strong muscle lines of the Moores. Afterwards, the high-ranking templar said to the tauren: "What do you think, is it a good seed for victory?"

"Yes, this hand is very beautiful, it will be very suitable for the long sword I gave you." The tauren nodded.

Tesian grabbed Ricas's right hand and suddenly said: "You can't bring your own weapons in the arena games, but prostheses are not restricted."

His other hand was raised high, the blade formed by psychic powers shining brightly. Amidst Ricas's exclamation, the knife fell in his hand.

The tauren looked at the hand that fell on the ground, with a sinister smile at the corner of his mouth, and whispered in words that Taixian could not understand: "Hero age? Now the hero will no longer use his hand to throw a spear, and the power of fate will rise again. Waves."