Yet, this only made me more astonished by the prisoner's prowess; fighting a brown bear, and strangling it barehanded while shackled, was no ordinary feat.

However skilled this warrior was, now, with over a dozen fierce beasts encircling him, there was simply no way he could fend them all off.

I genuinely worried for the warrior, not only because he looked exactly like me, but because his skill was truly admirable.

As swift as thought, within seconds, a Siberian tiger, half a meter tall, lunged at the warrior with tremendous force.

The warrior ducked low, narrowly evading the strike, then swung the shield in his hand toward the tiger's head.

Just as the tiger prepared to counterattack, the shield coming head-on smashed its neck backward, momentarily stunning it.

The warrior pressed his advantage, bringing the shield down repeatedly; in an instant, the tiger was left bloodied from nose and mouth, collapsing onto the ground.

I was utterly amazed, thinking this fellow was fiercer than Wu Song, taking down such a ferocious tiger in just a few blows.

At that moment, a brown bear and a white wolf attacked the warrior from the left and right sides simultaneously.

The warrior’s face was smeared with tiger blood, making his expression exceptionally savage as he looked up.

His spear flew from his grip, shooting out instantly to impale the lunging white wolf to the ground; it was clearly beyond saving.

Then, raising his fists and shield, he brought them down upon the brown bear in a flurry.

The brown bear was battered backward repeatedly, howling as it retreated.

But just then, three more Siberian tigers and a black rhinoceros charged in at the same time.

The warrior let out a great shout to the heavens, kicking and punching the brown bear until it fell, then hoisting the massive carcass over his shoulders and hurling it toward the three Siberian tigers, temporarily forcing them back.

However, the black rhinoceros had already closed the distance to less than a meter away, its sharp, black-glowing horn like a deadly sword capable of piercing anything.

Seeing the rhino’s ferocious charge, with nowhere left to dodge, the warrior could only raise his iron shield to meet it.

There was a loud bang as the iron shield was dented by the rhino's horn, and the warrior himself was hurled backward by the immense impact, crashing onto the ground.

Now, all the remaining beasts rushed forward, tearing at the warrior's body with their sharp teeth and claws.

I thought, It’s over; this warrior is certainly doomed.

But at that precise moment, the scene before my eyes vanished without a trace.

I awoke as if from a dream, glancing around to realize this was merely an illusion created by natural phenomena, recording an event that happened here a thousand years ago.

But the event was fragmented, and in the end, I never knew what became of that warrior.

I hoped the magnetic field recordings here would play out the rest of the story for me, but after waiting a long time, the empty arena returned to its original, deathly silence.

I looked down disappointedly at the battered shield in my hand; it must have been the one the warrior used, discarded here in the end.

Staring blankly at the broken shield, it took me a long while to snap back to reality. I walked back toward the metal sphere in the center of the plaza and resumed digging downward.

Then I noticed that this object's shape somewhat resembled a pot lid.

The sphere I had previously unearthed was actually the handle of the lid, and the area beneath it kept growing larger.

I excavated the ground covering a square meter around my feet and realized the buried volume of this thing, lying beneath the sand, was immense.

I felt a strong urge to give up digging, thinking this might be a cruel joke played by the person who left the footprints.

Perhaps the buried portion was as large as half the arena; if so, I wouldn't be able to dig it out in a week.

After some thought, I stood up, brushed the dirt from my hands, and prepared to check other areas for any information about that warrior.

I walked straight toward the spectator stands ahead, because from the beginning until now, I had sensed movement there.

Even after the illusions vanished, something seemed to be drifting within the mist here.

As I approached, I shone my flashlight, and immediately recoiled in shock.

When the beam cut through the thin fog, revealing the scene on the stands, I saw five figures dressed in black seated neatly in the very top row of chairs.

"Who... who is it!" I couldn't help but ask, my voice trembling slightly.

The five figures offered no reply, remaining seated straight ahead, but their clothing fluttered slowly.

Curiosity overcoming my unease, I shone the flashlight on the black-clad people again.

This time, I thought I could make out their faces: very pale, a ghastly pallor utterly lacking in blood, and their eyes, large as saucers, staring intently in my direction.

I was thoroughly unnerved by their gazes and appearance, knowing these five were living things, though I couldn't tell what, due to the distance and the fog.

Regardless, I sensed their ill will; they certainly did not welcome my presence.

So, I took two steps back, muttering, "I... I apologize for disturbing you. I'm just passing through and will leave now."

With that, I switched off the flashlight and turned back the way I came, thinking I wouldn't provoke them, whether they were ghosts or gods.

But after only a few steps, I heard a rustling sound coming from the stands behind me.

I turned back with surprise, only to see that the five dark silhouettes were gone.

I switched the flashlight back on and shone it around; sure enough, the stands were empty.

My heart sank. I shone the light around frantically, trying to find where these entities had gone, but found nothing.

Just as I was about to give up and walk toward the passage I used to enter, a sound like "Ga... ga..." suddenly reached my ears.

I recognized it as the sound of labored human breathing, the kind made when struggling for life.

To describe it, it was a sound where exhalations far outnumbered inhalations.

I frowned, and a chill instantly crawled over my skin.

As I suspected, I soon discovered a trail of blood on the ground, remarkably fresh, as I could smell the warmth of the blood.

The trail led all the way toward the passage I had used, and I thought I saw something shifting lightly on the ground ahead.

Despite my fear, I hurried forward.

Then I saw him: a person in a fur vest, clutching his neck, convulsing on the ground.

Crimson blood was bubbling between his fingers, unstoppable.

This man was clearly at the final moment of his life; by the time I reached him, the convulsions had stopped, and he had breathed his last.

I quickly crouched down to look at his face, and my heart plummeted.

I knew this man; he was a fisherman from the village, one of the men who had been on the boat that morning when the village head brought us across. He might have been the headman's deputy or someone similar.

I touched his face; it was already turning cold. With a sigh, I gently closed his wide-open eyes.

Examining his injuries closely, I saw that both his leg bones were broken, and a chunk of flesh had been torn from his neck by an animal with long teeth, causing him to bleed to death.

Furthermore, judging by the fractures, this man must have fallen from the sky.

I looked up at the sky, which, enclosed by the high walls of the arena, appeared elliptical and obscured by a thick, white haze, hiding the true sky.

Even though the sky wasn't clear, I couldn't make out the shadow of any giant bird.

After lingering in place for a moment, I knew I couldn't waste any more time; perhaps Liang Qian and the others had met the same danger.

I realized I had to get to the top of the arena to look around.

I scanned the area and spotted a place where stairs, though completely encased in iron cages—perhaps for spectators to observe the beasts or prisoners up close—led up toward the seating tiers.

I hurried toward it, taking two steps at a time.

Climbing the stairs toward the upper tiers, I soon reached the area behind the highest level of seating, then scrambled up the wall onto the highest point of the entire arena.

Looking down, the interior of the arena was shrouded in dense fog, yet looking up at the sky yielded no other clues.

Just as I thought I was about to find nothing, I suddenly heard the voices of two people speaking, quite close above my head.

They were speaking something that sounded like Russian, but far more complex; I didn't understand a single word.

And I didn't have the luxury to listen anyway, as I was standing at the highest point of the arena, yet heard voices directly overhead—it was bizarre.

Following a natural reaction, I looked straight up, but saw nothing above me.

The sound of their conversation swept overhead, fading away a few seconds later, and vanishing quickly.

It was like a fast-moving car blasting music that speeds past you—gone before you can grasp it.

The wind atop the arena walls was strong; a gust of sea air nearly knocked me off balance, forcing me to steady myself quickly.

As I did, my gaze drifted toward the street outside the arena, where I noticed a light, the size of a soybean, flicker on a nearby street.

That pinpoint of light seemed contagious; it slowly spread, causing more small yellow points to appear around it, which was utterly magical.

Watching the growing number of small yellow lights illuminate the island, I was immediately reminded of my encounter here months ago with Andrei; it seemed this ordeal was recurring.

I never would have imagined that the long-declining city of Durban had moments when it was ablaze with light every night.

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