Kulan looked at the young man seated steadily on the Silver War Steed with a sowhat complex expression. He had entered the Golden Domain thirty years ago and had only stabilized at the Middle Stage a few years back, but this young man seed to be Heaven's favored one—no, even the Apocalypse could not reach the Gold Middle Stage at such a young age unless he was the Chosen One born of Destiny.
However, every Chosen One was bound by the shackles of destiny, inherently lacking a part of their body, like the blind Yura. So the Old Swordsman didn't even consider that possibility when he saw Brand. He paused for a mont and then anxiously asked:
"Young man, which Soul Seal do you have?"
"What?" Brand was stunned.
"Don't play dumb with . I'm asking you which Soul Seal you have, you understand!" The old man suddenly jumped in anger, shouting, "This is important, quickly tell —"
"What are you talking about, what am I supposed to understand?"
This ti, Brand was truly bewildered. He thought the old man was coming over to remind him of sothing, but unexpectedly, he was bombarded with a series of inexplicable questions.
Just as he was about to ask, the huge voice overhead in the Duel Arena suddenly interrupted their conversation once more:
"Mortal, do you wish to continue the challenge?"
"Of course," Brand replied.
"Boy, answer my question!" Kulan shouted, banging on the wall of air outside. But Brand looked over, gestured for him to wait, and then raised his head, waiting for the host of this Fantasy world to announce the rules.
As expected, he imdiately saw a line of eerie green text floating before his eyes—
"Nightmare Arena."
"The next battlefield is—Nightmare Arena!" The thunderous voice overhead announced the sa words in everyone's mind.
Brand's face changed instantly.
"What is the Nightmare Arena, my Lord?" disha frowned and turned back to ask quietly.
...
"What is the Nightmare Arena, Kevan?" At the sa ti, Maher turned his head and asked his companion the sa question.
"I don't know." The frail boy's answer was simple.
"What are they arguing about?" But Joka's attention was on Brand and Kulan. Compared to this bizarre world, he was more worried about whether their group could leave here safely together.
"I don't know." The sa answer.
"But why continue the challenge? There's no one left to save here." Among the boys, soone asked.
"I think it's not that simple," soone answered, "although I don't know where we are, it must cost a lot to build a place like this. Is it only for capturing or releasing people for a ga?"
His words sparked a collective nodding among them, and they all looked around, worried.
"Humph, you don't know those noble lords' hobbies, maybe they just find it amusing!" Soone rebutted.
"This place might not have been made by those noble lords. If I recall correctly, we were under a mine earlier. I suspect it's related to what we dug out from there." The boy added while touching the cold iron bars.
The group fell silent.
"His target is that Sword." Kevan's voice wasn't loud, but he always waited for these chattering boys to finish before speaking, and each ti his words carried weight.
The frail boy stared at the dark Longsword on the Stele in the center of the Duel Arena. He noticed several tis that Brand's gaze would fall in that direction.
What he said made the others feel it seed plausible.
"Then he's not planning to save us?" Soone asked worriedly.
"Why should he save us—" A voice of doubt responded.
"Kevan?" Joka looked at his companion. To him, Kevan was the most knowledgeable and resourceful person he knew, though he rarely spoke, every word was perceptive.
"I have a way," Kevan said softly, more like cheering himself up, "—I'll find a way to persuade him."
"How will you persuade him?" Maher asked, puzzled.
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