Revive Rome: Wait! Why not make the empress fall in love with me first?
Chapter 42 - 42 33 Hercules

42: Chapter 33 Hercules 42: Chapter 33 Hercules Constantinople Arena.

“First to enter the arena is the blue team!

Leading them is Scolap ‘Arctic Bear’!

Last month, he gruesomely tore off an enemy’s head from his neck, using nothing but his bare hands!” The announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker, expertly whipping up the atmosphere.

“Any opponent under 140 should seriously consider whether their neck is made of iron when facing the Arctic Bear!”

The crowd in the stands screamed wildly.

Since the cultural assimilation by Sirius, the upper nobility of the East Solomon Empire had turned entirely towards arts, literature, and films, snubbing such bloody and barbaric sports.

However, the commoner class still had a special fondness for the classical gladiator culture; the poorer the people, the more they reveled in the sight of bloodshed and death in the arenas.

Of course, the closely associated gambling industry was another significant reason why gladiator culture was prevalent among the lower classes.

“Next up is the red team!

Leading them is Thrace ‘Brown Bear’!” the announcer continued to shout, so excited he was practically jumping, “The Brown Bear might not have muscles like the Arctic Bear, but he is sufficiently nimble and cunning!”

“This is a battle of strength versus skill, a contest between two bears, and only one will survive—our Duel Arena does not recognize draws!

Whoever stands last will lift a trophy akin to their weight in gold from atop their foe’s corpse!”

Aske, carrying his great sword, led the red team members into the arena in a line.

Afterward, teams wrapped in red and blue cloaks shook hands in greeting.

Saiotis looked at the opposing leader, made a cutting gesture across his neck, and quickly glanced at Aske on the far right.

The throat-cutting motion was meant for his own team.

Aske obviously understood, but the opponent just returned a ferocious sneer.

The starting pistol fired, and the gladiator battle began instantly.

Almost immediately, the spectators leaped to their feet and waved their fists toward the gladiators below, cheering on their supported teams or cursing the opposing ones for a miserable death.

The red team’s formation quickly tightened on the field, with everyone squeezing into the left wing (leaving Aske alone on the right), clashing with the blue team’s right wing.

This evidently caught the blue team off guard, but they certainly wouldn’t pass up the opportunity.

They first shifted their strength to the right wing, then sent two men to charge toward Aske on the left, clearly aiming to reduce their numbers by one.

“My God!

What have you done, Saiotis?

You abandoned a poor teammate on the far right!” the announcer put on a dramatic sobbing voice before switching to a righteous analysis, “Could this be a trap?”

“Indeed!

The blue team sends two people to take the bait, transforming the main battle line instantly into eight against seven!

Sacrificing local strength for a numerical advantage on the front, is this your plan, you sly Brown Bear?”

“That damn clown of an announcer!

I’ll gut him and strangle him with his intestines!” Saiotis, engaged in combat, was so annoyed that he lost focus and got slashed on the helmet by an opponent, causing a buzzing in his ears.

He staggered back two steps into the protective reach of his teammates, glancing again at Aske on the far right, watching as two blue-clad gladiators skillfully began to pincer him, a malicious smile crossing his lips.

The two seasoned blue gladiators closed in on Aske with lightning speed.

One raised his two-handed sword for a heavy swing, while the other moved diagonally to the right, his broadsword darting like a venomous snake to strike at Aske’s left side.

Then both simultaneously realized their error.

Aske, facing their joint attack, simply performed a light backward jump, dodging both attacks.

At the same time, his great sword moved from over his shoulder as he swung it horizontally with both hands.

Cleanly slicing through the neck of the man on the left.

“Holy shit!

Tiger Slash!” In the topmost box of the arena, someone shuddered at the sight, spilling his drink without even realizing.

“Tiger Slash?

What Tiger Slash?” the person next to him burst out laughing, “Michael, have you been training so hard you’re losing your mind?”

The Emperor’s Guard Officer Corps, directly under the Emperor of the Solomon Empire, is composed of young officers proficient in combat, forming an elite guard unit.

During Emperor Constantine’s expedition, about two-thirds of the guard had been deployed, leaving the remaining third in the Imperial City to protect the two purple-clad princesses.

After learning of the defeat at Manzikert, these young officers worried about their supreme Emperor’s unfathomable fate and feared receiving bad news about the comrades they had previously fought alongside.

Unable to receive specific news from afar, they resorted to watching gladiatorial combat in the arena’s boxes to calm their anxious hearts.

Of course, for these Transcendents skilled in martial arts, human gladiator fights were not particularly interesting; it was just more stifling to stay in the camp.

Guard Captain Michael initially thought so, too, but had not expected to witness such exquisite swordsmanship in the great arena.

“Quiet!” He raised a palm, instantly silencing his giggling comrades, “Let me see if it was a coincidence.”

His teammates exchanged looks and, following his gaze, began to intently watch the battle below.

The left blue gladiator’s neck was severely slashed by the great sword, skin and flesh curling around the gaping wound as he collapsed to the ground twitching silently.

The man on the right shuddered, now realizing that their opponent’s choice of a great sword wasn’t just about brute strength.

Before he could react, Aske had already leaped up, swinging his two-handed great sword quickly downward.

It was too late to dodge, so the man could only manage a weak attempt to block upwards with his sword.

A clean “clang” sound rang out as the great sword cleaved through his blade and irresistibly through his helmet, fatally splitting his skull.

“Split-Top Strike!” Several guards saw it clearly, leaping from their seats in shock, “How is that possible!

Who is this guy?

A court sword master?

Why haven’t we seen him before?”

“It’s ‘Lion’s Fang,'” Michael said, his face serious as he slowly swirled his wine glass.

“Do you remember the ‘Tactical Eight Forms’?”

“Tactics” was a military handbook composed over a hundred years ago by Emperor Leo VI of the Empire, which recorded how Extraordinary Warriors should use their intense physical power to transform into efficient killing skills on the battlefield.

It was a manual of advanced martial arts that all Emperor’s Guards were required to study and know by heart; thus, everyone was almost able to recite it backward.

Michael gave a slight reminder, and his teammates almost immediately responded; one of them rapidly recited:

“…His Majesty once said, there are four fatal points on the human body: the temples, the throat, the chest, and the lower abdomen.

The main attacks should aim for these vital points to kill or disable the enemy.

The ‘Tactical Eight Forms’ comprises ‘Lion’s Fang,’ ‘Left Lion’s Fang,’ ‘Right Lion’s Fang,’ ‘Eagle Cut,’ ‘Tiger Slash,’ ‘Dragon Slash,’ ‘Vibrating Wings,’ ‘Rapid Thrust.'”

“‘Lion’s Fang.’ A straight chop aimed at the head, cleaving the skull.”

“‘Left, Right Lion’s Fang.’ Chop at the shoulders, disable both arms.”

“‘Eagle Cut.’ A horizontal slash at the eyes, intimidating the mind.”

“‘Tiger Slash.’ A horizontal slash at the neck, severing the throat.”

“‘Dragon Slash.’ A horizontal slash at the waist, rupturing the viscera.”

“‘Vibrating Wings.’ A sneak attack from above, slicing the perineum.”

“‘Rapid Thrust.’ A straight stab to the stomach, draining the blood and breath.”

“Pfft,” someone beside them chuckled.

“Why are you all so serious?

It’s just a straightforward chop.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be the advanced ‘Lion’s Fang’ technique recorded in ‘Tactics.’ Maybe it was just a random attack?”

“To break through a block and split the skull with one strike, was that randomly executed?” Michael sneered, “The downward chop must have precisely targeted the heavy center of the combat sword.

Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been possible to cleanly break the weapon and cleave the helmet in two so cleanly.

This person isn’t only skilled in martial arts but is definitely a Transcendent.

Just watch what happens next.”

Two blue-clothed gladiators were slain, instantly turning the tide of the closely contested duel.

No casualties had yet appeared on the main front.

Saiotis, leading the red-clothed members, tightly pressed the opposition, always cleverly using their numerical advantage.

“Eight against seven!

The Red Brown Bear still keeps the advantage!

No, it’s nine against seven!” the announcer exclaimed excitedly, watching Aske wield a great sword, heroically breaking into the enemy ranks from behind.

Swinging the huge sword like a whirlwind, Crescent Moon Slash!

“The Frankish combat skills,” Michael commented from the box, “Brutal, but cumbersome, not hard to dodge.”

True enough, the surrounding blue-clothed gladiators frantically scattered in all directions.

Aske’s Crescent Moon Slash hit empty air but succeeded in disrupting the blue team’s formation, allowing the red-clothed gladiators to immediately seize the opportunity, isolating the scattered blue fighters.

This guy!

Saiotis felt both anger and shock; he hadn’t expected this newcomer, fighting two against one, to manage a counter-kill unscathed and also flank and disrupt the blue formation, effectively stealing the spotlight for the entire team.

In the midst of his shock, he saw the blue team’s leader “Arctic Bear” suddenly side-step, catching Aske, who was continuing to press and disrupt the formation.

Using a two-handed war hammer, a more formidable blunt weapon than the two-handed greatsword, he swung it downward in a crushing blow.

Aske sidestepped and held his sword horizontally for a thrust.

“Arctic Bear” crossed his war hammer to block; with a clang, the great sword slid off the handle straight toward his eyes.

“Arctic Bear” hastily retreated.

Aske had already retracted his sword, holding it aloft and then leaping forward for a downward slash.

“‘Lion Tooth Jump Cut’?” Michael watched intently, “No, it’s ‘Mountain Crashing Strike’!

Heavenly Swordsmanship’s ‘Mountain Crashing Strike’!”

As the great sword slammed down on the war hammer’s handle, “Arctic Bear” felt an overwhelming force nearly crushing his spine.

He tried to brace with his arms upward, but the force on the handle suddenly intensified, nearly tearing apart the base of his palms.

Another strike, and the entire war hammer handle snapped into two pieces; the great sword had already severed his right collarbone, disabling his whole right arm.

In the next second, a cold sensation slid across his neck, his vision flipping entirely as his consciousness quickly faded into darkness.

Decapitation.

“This…” The officers in the booth fell silent.

After a long while, someone finally said:

“It was ‘Mountain Crashing Triple Strike’…

This guy, is he more skilled in our Solomon’s swordsmanship or the Frankish swordsmanship?”

“For a two-handed greatsword, the Frankish sword skills are indeed more suitable,” Michael said off-handedly as he stood up.

“No need to watch anymore, this duel has already ended.”

“Arctic Bear’s” head tumbled on the ground, his face smeared with blood and dust, still showing an expression of disbelief and pain.

With the blue team’s leader decapitated in a single duel, it instantly ignited the audience’s enthusiasm.

Even the citizens who had bet on the blue team’s victory were now wildly standing and crazily slapping the chairs in front of them, hoarsely cheering for Aske, the dueling hero.

Taking advantage of the blue team’s disadvantage from being split up, the red-clothed gladiators collaborated to kill two more.

The remaining four blue-clothed gladiators could only quickly drop their weapons and kneel to the ground, conceding defeat and surrender.

“The victor of this duel is!” The announcer shouted with all his might, “The Red Team!

Victory belongs to this newly joined red-clothed gladiator!

Our new War God, Hercules!

Well, I think he’ll have a more resounding nickname soon.

Cheer for this splendid victory, citizens of Constantinople!”