Revive Rome: Wait! Why not make the empress fall in love with me first?
Chapter 43 - 43 34 Life Stealing I

43: Chapter 34 Life Stealing I 43: Chapter 34 Life Stealing I The red-clothed gladiators let their arms hang, bewilderingly facing the cheers of the audience.

Saiotis was so furious that he nearly burst a blood vessel, while others looked utterly confused: okay, we won…

but why does this victory feel so joyless?

Because this new guy had just killed three blue-clothed gladiators by himself, including the team leader “Arctic Bear.” As a result, the two blue-clothed gladiators that everyone had worked together to kill not only failed to win the applause they deserved, but in the eyes of the entire duel arena’s audience, it instead became a strong proof of the newcomer’s overpowering strength.

Aske hoisted the great sword back onto his shoulder.

Unlike the usual winners’ tradition in the duel arena, he didn’t wave or raise his arms towards the spectator stands but instead lazily yawned.

Then he turned and walked towards the passage leading back to the training field.

The red-clothed gladiators followed him back to the underground training field, noticeably sullen.

As soon as Aske placed the two-handed great sword back on the weapon rack, someone slapped him on the back.

“Nice fight,” said a tall red-clothed gladiator from behind him, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Not bad yourself,” Aske said.

“What should I call you?”

“Barbarian,” the other replied.

That was his arena nickname.

Aside from obtaining the “Sharp Weapon I” magic potion, Aske had another reason for coming to the duel arena, which was to find a close-range damage dealer for his team, the more violent, the better, with a priority on those who could handle opponents in heavy armor.

Saiotis’s combat ability barely qualified, but his character clearly did not.

Was it just for a gladiator’s position that he had to hold a grudge like this?

Was being a gladiator even such an honorable golden rice bowl?

Besides Saiotis, Aske also paid special attention to three people who performed exceptionally during the battle, and this big guy was one of them.

He was about 1.9 meters tall with very evenly distributed muscles; in reality, that would be the body of an international male model.

His weapon was two battle axes, which he swung as swiftly as the wind.

The opponents could barely block his two moves, no wonder he had a nickname called “Barbarian.”

Moreover, this guy was wearing chain-patterned plate armor and a northern-style bullhorn helmet, with nearly pure white, beautiful pale golden hair showing under the steel browband, chopped short and jagged by sharp weapons like daggers.

His skin was also the ultra-white characteristic of northern people, yet unlike the rough skin of mercenaries who travel year-round, it was smooth as milk.

His eyes were nearly transparent sky-blue, lighter than Eleanor’s sea-blue irises; his nose was slender and prominent, his lips very thin, making him a very androgynous-looking handsome man…

Or beauty, in any case, Aske couldn’t tell the gender of this person.

“That ‘Mountain Crashing Triple Strike’ just now was beautiful; the only flaw was that the third strike only hit his right shoulder.

If it could have directly chopped off his head, there wouldn’t have been a need for a follow-up beheading.

Although I like this exhilarating style of killing, the audience might not appreciate it, those from Sirius don’t really appreciate the beauty of blood and power…” The guy was still prattling on.

“Sigrdrifa!” Saiotis came storming over like an enraged lion, his steel teeth almost grinding to bits, “What are you talking to him about?

Did you betray us that fast?!”

“Betray?” The towering barbarian tilted his head in confusion, “The Red Team isn’t your personal property, nor am I your subordinate.

What do you mean by betrayal?

If you could become the leader of the Red Team, it’s only because no one contested you.”

“So are you guys trying to contest this position?” Saiotis sneered.

“What do you say, brother?” the giant lowered his head and said to Aske, “If you fight for the leader’s role, I’ll support you.”

“Why fight over it,” Aske said, somewhat amused yet frustrated, “Leader of a band of gladiators, treated almost like a throne, is that necessary?”

Hearing this, Saiotis blinked in surprise while the big man fell into a brief silence, then laughed heartily:

“True.”

After that, he walked over to the carpet on the side and sat down, seemingly lost in thought.

The next duel would be held in three hours, so everyone had some time to recover and practice.

Aske looked at the weapon rack, choosing a Caucasus-style straight sword.

This type of sword was relatively light and of moderate length, swinging swiftly and silently, favored by Eastern swordsmen.

The downside was that its spine was not thick enough; if used to block an opponent’s slashing weapon, it probably would only withstand a few blows before chipping.

Might as well use this weapon for the second duel, he thought to himself.

“Sir, sir, you can’t go in there!” Came the urgent cry of Sadric from outside, accompanied by heavy footsteps, and the training field’s door was forced open.

The Empire’s Royal Guard Captain Michael descended the stone steps, his hawk-like sharp gaze scanning the entire field, finally settling on Aske.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Aske Lepeios Achilles.”

“Achilles.” Michael pondered for a moment, “Is that the Achilles family?

No wonder you are proficient in the martial arts from ‘Tactics.'”

“The former glory of your family cannot be fought for in this small duel arena.

If you are interested in making military accomplishments, come find me at the Charck gate, just mention the name ‘Michael Brings.'”

He finished speaking and left the training ground without waiting for Aske’s response.

Aske stood there, utterly confused, “???”

Had he triggered some hidden side-story?

Did the Achilles family have any special background?

Were there hidden clues in the previous life’s game that hadn’t been excavated?

While he was lost in thought, duel arena attendant Sadric hurriedly rushed in.

He glanced at the departing figure of Michael, shook his head silently, then turned to Aske excitedly and said,

“Rookie, you fought brilliantly just now!

The audience outside is still cheering for your name!” He paused, then quickly added, “No, no, no, Hercules isn’t your name.

You need to think of a more imposing nickname; that’s the rule of our duel arena.”

“How about ‘Viking’?

After all, you wield a two-handed greatsword, which was the representative weapon of ancient Viking warriors.”

“The representative weapon for us Vikings should be the battle axe,” murmured a tall figure nearby, “It can be swung to chop people when we were pirates and thrown to kill.

Plus, he doesn’t have Nordic blood either.”

“Hey, Northerner,” Sadric retorted without any politeness, “The reason he’s called ‘Viking’ is because he’s from Solomon!

This proves that among us Solomons, there are warriors who can surpass you Northerners in combat skills…

this is a Sirius-style pun that you don’t understand.”

“Then ‘Viking’ it is,” Aske said indifferently, waving his hand dismissing further discussion on the matter.

“All right, ‘Viking’,” Sadric quickly replied, “Your Red Team has already won one bout.

If you win two more today, you’ll take home today’s ‘Duel Gold Cup’.”

“And later the ‘Single Day Champion’ will also be chosen, and you are currently the most likely candidate.

I’ve already put 10 pounds on you; don’t let me down!”

……….

Meanwhile, the girls were equally swift to action.

In the morning, they directly bid three times the base price at the city hall, purchased the land and completed the property transfer, and in the afternoon, they hired a construction crew to use an excavator to clear the ruins of Peggy’s burnt-down house.

“Next, we’ll use container modules to set up a temporary warehouse,” Nora said while wearing a safety helmet and looking at the blueprint, speaking to Eleanor, “It’s just temporary, and then we can buy building materials.

Stone, wood, sand, clay, steel bars, cement, all can be stored in the warehouse.”

“We can build a house with these?” Eleanor was skeptical.

“Of course,” Nora replied, “It’s more than enough to set up a frame structure.”

“My extraordinary ability has been fully assimilated!” Peggy’s voice suddenly resounded, clearly through Medea’s mind communication, “I’m going to level 2 now, starting to brew the magic potion!”

The two girls immediately ran back into the house like excited little schoolgirls hearing their classmates had scored premium materials in Monster Hunter, rushing up to the third floor to see the excitement.

Medea had set up a disposable crucible, and Peggy was fiercely pounding an Eden Fruit in a mortar.

“This should be enough,” Peggy said.

Nora peered in to see not juice but a mushy fruit pulp.

“Can you manage this on your own?” Nora asked tentatively, “Should we wait for Aske to return to brew the magic potion more safely?”

“No need,” Medea responded.

Her injuries had not completely healed and her complexion was still pale as parchment, but at least there was some color, “I’m also your senior Transcendent, after all.

Brewing a Level 1 magic potion is no difficulty for me.”

She then set up a filter funnel, poured the fruit pulp into it, collecting about 100 ml of juice in the crucible below.

She then added a spoonful of Corfu Island Olive Oil and began stirring clockwise.

“Next, add a pinch of iron oxide powder,” Medea watched the magic potion recipe, pinched some iron oxide powder, and put it in, “Stir counterclockwise until even…”

Soon, the liquid in the crucible turned blood-red, looking neither like water nor oil, shimmering with an enticing luster that made the surrounding girls feel a surge of hunger.

“Hold on, hold on,” Medea said as she swallowed saliva and, pinching her nose, finally added the golden-striped leech meat puree.

The liquid quickly absorbed by the meat puree, gradually turning into a limp “mud”.

“Eat it quickly,” Medea scooped up the mud into a white porcelain plate, “Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll throw it up.”

Peggy swallowed the mud in one gulp, her lips immediately turned a brilliant red.

Her canines extended out over her lips, her iris was stained red, and her pores opened, releasing a hint of red qi throughout her body.

Suddenly, she grasped her throat and started convulsing as if wracked by rigors.

“The different sequences from the magic potions are conflicting!” Medea frowned.

“What should we do?” Nora asked anxiously.

She wanted to heal Peggy but feared triggering uncontrollable power by using her extraordinary ability.

“Wait and see,” Medea seriously said.

“Flesh and life-stealing aren’t highly conflicting mutant sequences.

As long as Peggy’s Flesh I has indeed fully assimilated, there shouldn’t be a high chance of losing control.”

Although she spoke without hesitation, her eyes were still intensely focused on Peggy.

Peggy nearly turned completely bloody, pressing her left hand forcefully on her abdomen, her right hand gripping her throat as if to vomit, but her tightly-clenched teeth prevented it, causing her nothing but to painfully roll around on the ground.

Countless flesh sprouts bulged and moved under her skin as though myriad maggots were embedded within, ready to mutate into a terrifying monster at any moment, making everyone unavoidably feel fear.

Minutes later, the mutations on Peggy finally settled down.

She curled up, gasping for air, and sucked back the red qi around her body.

“I did it,” she said weakly, “Life Stealing…

I’m now level 2.”

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