The chains on Kalon's body had been replaced with a magical alchemical creation: the Mana Ring. The Mana Ring not only suppressed magic, but if forcibly removed, it would send out a warning message and trigger a massive explosion. No matter how powerful a creature was, its internal organs were always relatively weak.
Kalon's first impression upon stepping into the broad, long underground prison corridor of the arena was the stench—it was unbearable.
Captives of various races were held here, all of whom had become desperate outlaws in this arena. There were weak races like Werebears, Centaurs, and Gnolls, as well as once-powerful races like Orcs and Elves, along with many strange creatures that Kalon did not even recognize.
Without exception, those who could survive in this arena were the strongest warriors of their respective races; the weak had long since become corpses or debris.
These exceptionally powerful gladiators were assigned individual stone rooms, while the weaker ones were crowded together. However, there was no conflict among them, for simply surviving here consumed most of their energy.
The arrival of the Young Dragons did not surprise these gladiators. Hovering between life and death had made them sufficiently indifferent; the most curious gesture was nothing more than a few extra glances as the Young Dragons passed their cells.
Although the Young Dragons had not yet matured, the power of the Dragon race was unquestionable, so each dragon was assigned an individual cell.
As for Kalon, the strongest Young Dragon, his cell was at the end of the corridor. There were ten of the widest cells here, specially prepared for exceptionally large gladiators, but currently, only three cells were occupied.
Although the faces of these three gladiators were hidden in the shadows beneath the lamps, Kalon's superior True Dragon vision allowed him to see their true forms clearly: a Werewolf, a Vampire, and a Centaur.
These three gladiators from different races all possessed intense fluctuations of power, even stronger than the power Will Clarence had displayed when he gathered the crowd.
However, the power within the Centaur was clearly much more obscure, and its fluctuations were faint and intermittent. If one didn't pay attention, one might think he was just an ordinary warrior.
They were probably powerful warriors captured after losing a war, Kalon guessed idly as he stepped into his cell.
"Yo, has a dragon been captured too?" The Vampire emerged from the shadows into the lamplight, mocking, "It seems the dragon mother Tiamat hasn't favored her creations. Does she not even care about her most beloved Red Dragons?"
Kalon did not get angry, as he had no intention of following Tiamat. He simply offered a faint retort, "Didn't your Vampire ancestors also used to be powerful demigods active in this world? Why haven't they favored you Vampires?"
The Vampire shrugged indifferently. "That old fossil probably died somewhere long ago, maybe killed off by someone else. The Werewolf ancestor hasn't appeared for centuries either; maybe those two old things died together."
The fine scales between Kalon's brows furrowed. The ancestors of both the Vampires and Werewolves were demigods who had clearly been active in the Ekania World. Although the two races had an ancestral feud, it was hard to believe that two powerful demigods would perish together.
Reflecting on how the Five-Colored Dragons were now too lazy to pray to the Evil Dragon GodTiamat, and how it was said the Metal Dragon God Bahamut hadn't issued a divine oracle for centuries, the powerful demigod ancestors of those races were slowly vanishing. This realization gave Kalon a strange feeling.
Kalon shook his heavy head. The powerful soul energy of the Ogre Giant had been giving him feedback; his soul had recently felt 'full,' making his head feel exceptionally heavy.
He didn't think about it further; there were no more clues, and guessing wouldn't help. His current priority was to figure out what to do next.
After this period of accumulation, his Heart Energy Vortex had enough energy for the next experimental strengthening, but he currently lacked a relatively safe place and enough time to perform it.
Perhaps he should perform subtle strengthening bit by bit, so he wouldn't need to spend a lot of time in a deep sleep. Kalon closed his eyes, ignoring the Vampire who seemed to have a strong desire to talk; he needed to sort out his thoughts.
After a night like this, Kalon woke from his sleep. An arena attendant had already opened the small steel-cast door and was bringing in an entire bound, live cow.
However, the attendants were clearly trembling. Although they were warriors with formidable combat power, even if a dragon was bound by a Mana Ring, its powerful physical body could kill them effortlessly.
But Kalon did not do so; it was meaningless. He had observed upon entering that this arena had strict security. Every lamp outside was embedded with magic crystals, and every spectator stand was a node of a massive magic array. He wasn't confident he could escape from here yet.
Furthermore, the arena was located near the center of the city, in a prosperous area. Once any commotion was made, it would easily attract the city's guard legions and mages. He only had one chance to try.
If it weren't for the magic arrays faintly visible on the stone walls of these cells, perhaps he could have tried to stage a 'Dragon's Redemption.'
Kalon shook his head and looked at the adjacent cells. Perhaps these three powerful Variants could become his allies. No one wanted to live in a cell that could only ever be lit by lamps. And those imprisoned gladiators—they would make decent cannon fodder.
"Hey, Red Dragon, how about sharing some of that food with me? I like fresh food." The Werewolf was clearly dissatisfied that his food was only two dead chickens. He walked to the steel bars; his tall frame was nearly four meters, his silver fur was matted, and he was covered in scars, looking like a dejected wolfhound.
These humans really treat me like a beast that likes to eat live prey. Looking at the wide-eyed ox on the ground, Kalon instinctively wanted to refuse the Werewolf's request.
But then something occurred to him. He looked at the Werewolf and said, "You want food? Fine, let's make a deal. Tell me, in a gladiatorial match, what is the most important thing to achieve victory?"
"Strength, of course. Using raw strength to tear the enemy apart and rip out their heart." The Werewolf bared his fangs, and sharp claws snapped out from beneath his thick, furry palms. Clearly, the Werewolf was a worshiper of strength.
"Forget it, Red Dragon, don't waste your food. Giving it to that stinking mutt is worse than throwing it to the regular street dogs," the Vampire called out, dissatisfied with the Werewolf's words. "It's technique—elegant offensive and evasive techniques. You'll always run into enemies stronger than you. Without technique, you'll be stepped on like that stinking mutt."
These two Variants with an ancestral feud were bickering again. It seemed the life of imprisonment hadn't completely worn away their temperaments.
"Wrong, it's control. Powerful body control is the foundation of becoming a powerhouse. Control is the key to victory; even if you are injured, you can still exert powerful combat strength." The Centaur Warrior spoke up. "Red Dragon, give that food to me. What these two idiots said is incorrect."
"Bullshit!" the Vampire and the Werewolf retorted in unison.
Pfft. The Centaur let out an 'ambiguous' sneer. "I am stronger than both of you!"