Chapter 239: Tribute Parade, Mysterious Old Man

Chapter 239: Chapter 239: Tribute Parade, Mysterious Old Man

Seraphina’s heart clenched at the man’s words, but she forced her face into an expression of fearful, dazed submission.

She seized the opportunity to ask in a trembling, weak voice, "S-Sir... the Slaughter Game... what exactly is it? I... what am I supposed to do?"

As expected, the man shot her a disdainful look, as if to say, ’Are you an idiot?’ ℯℯ𝑙.

Seraphina immediately raised a hand and pointed to her bandaged forehead.

Her expression was pained and confused. "My... my head really hurts. I think I hit it hard... I can’t remember a lot of things... I just woke up here... I don’t know anything..."

Her performance was perfectly executed.

The man scrutinized Seraphina for a few seconds.

The disdain in his eyes slowly gave way to a complex mix of pity and malicious glee.

"Tsk. You really hit your head and got amnesia? Forgot something this important? I honestly don’t know if that makes you lucky or pathetic."

The man shook his head. Perhaps he figured an amnesiac Tribute would be easier to control, or maybe it was out of some insignificant shred of "professional ethics."

He lowered his voice and spoke quickly. "Since you’re the Tribute on my watch, I’ll do you a favor and give you a few pointers."

"Listen up. In the Slaughter Game, don’t fucking trust anyone! Not the monsters locked up with you, not the other bastards who look human! Your job is to do whatever it takes to survive and kill as many Tributes from the ’opposing faction’ as you can! The more you kill, the more you’re worth keeping alive!"

’Opposing faction?’ Seraphina latched onto the keyword. She was about to ask what "faction" meant and how to tell them apart.

BWOOOM—!!!

A deep, long horn blast, like the cry of some ancient beast, suddenly echoed, drowning out all other noise.

The sound carried a bloody undertone that pierced the eardrums and struck deep into the soul, making every creature that heard it tremble involuntarily.

The man’s words were cut short.

His expression turned grim, and he immediately straightened his posture.

He looked toward the end of the tunnel, his voice tinged with a barely perceptible mix of awe and excitement.

"Get ready! The Death Tour... is starting."

As he spoke, a piercing shriek of grinding gears filled the air, and all the cage doors in the holding area began to slowly rise.

Once the gate was fully raised, the small cage holding Seraphina jolted and then began to slowly move forward.

Seraphina realized with a jolt that she wasn’t in a fixed cell at all. ’It’s a mobile cage, on tracks or wheels!’

’So this is the "Death Tour." We’re the ones on parade—the prisoners they call Tributes!’

Seraphina’s cage followed the others in front of it, rolling in succession out of a massive, heavy gate.

The scene outside the gate made her gasp.

Before her lay a space of unimaginable size.

Or, more accurately, a magnificent structure converted into a giant colosseum.

Bowl-shaped grandstands soared up into the clouds on all sides, and every seat was taken.

Countless figures writhed in the stands, their cheers and howls crashing down like a tidal wave of sound.

Dozens of huge stone gates, identical to the one she had just exited, were spaced around the base of the massive colosseum.

From each gate, an endless procession of mobile cages carrying "Tributes" was now rolling out, like trains emerging from hell itself, all heading for the center of the field.

Countless screens hovered above the colosseum, displaying close-ups of the Tributes in their cages.

Seraphina forced herself to stay calm and carefully observed the frenzied audience.

The majority of them were far from human in appearance.

Some had skin of bizarre colors, covered in scales or carapaces.

Others had curved horns or tentacles sprouting from their heads.

Still others possessed multiple arms or compound eyes. They roared wantonly, waving limbs and weapons of all shapes and sizes, their eyes filled with a lust for blood and slaughter.

Of course, there were some individuals scattered throughout the stands who looked completely human.

But the Aura they exuded was far more dangerous—some cold, some violent, some unfathomably deep. They were clearly anything but benevolent.

Seraphina then turned her gaze to the "Tributes" in the other cages.

Just like her own group, it was a veritable menagerie of fantasy creatures.

Of course, there was also a small number of Tributes who, like her, appeared to be human.

Most of these human Tributes wore expressions of terror and desperation, but a few had sharp, focused gazes.

’They’re calmly observing their surroundings. Those people are probably Players, just like me!’

’And high-Level ones at that.’

’The main problem is that my Talent is restricted right now.’

’I can’t use the Eye of Resume.’

’Otherwise, I’d definitely be able to see their stats.’

’Players... right! Sean Chandler!’

Seraphina immediately began to frantically scan the other cages.

It couldn’t be helped. When Yana Yates had used that link card on her, she had grabbed Sean Chandler at the last second in a subconscious act of self-preservation.

Apparently, the card had registered Sean Chandler as part of the transfer and brought him into this instance as well.

Her eyes swept over the passing lines of cages, and she finally spotted a familiar figure in a convoy not far away on the opposite side!

Sean Chandler was also trapped in a mobile cage.

He was looking around, completely bewildered.

He clearly hadn’t recovered from the sudden turn of events.

Seeing that Sean Chandler was still alive, Seraphina let out a small sigh of relief, but her sense of urgency only intensified.

’We have to meet up as soon as possible.’

Just then, an ancient voice, yet one that brimmed with a strange Power, boomed from speakers all around the colosseum, reaching every corner with perfect clarity.

It momentarily drowned out the clamor of the audience.

"Ladies, gentlemen! Honored guests! The Death Tour... has officially begun!"

Seraphina looked up.

A massive technological screen floating above the colosseum showed the face of a wizened old man.

He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace the fanatical atmosphere.

"Let us greet them with your most thunderous cheers and roars!" the old man’s voice boomed, full of incitement.

"Give your blessings to the Tributes who are about to participate in the upcoming Slaughter Games! They—with their lives, their blood, and their souls—are about to present us with one unparalleled, bloody spectacle after another!!"

"ROAR—!!!"

The crowd’s frenzy was instantly ignited. Cheers, whistles, and roars swept through the colosseum like a deafening tsunami.

Seraphina, like all the other Tributes, felt like a product on display.

Under the watch of countless cruel, appraising, and expectant gazes, she and her mobile cage rolled slowly toward the center of the field—an unknown killing floor destined to be stained red with blood.

Some of the Tributes in the cages roared and snarled at the stands, but their actions, far from intimidating anyone, only made the surrounding audience more excited and eager for what was to come.