The bald tattooed man "Thrace" was stirring the crowd. To the Awakened Major Generals, it was of little interest, but for most of the native slaves with a dim future, it was full of incitement.
Seeing the time was ripe, Thrace immediately shouted:
"You've all seen the ten circles in the training ground, haven't you? Those who want to become gladiators, just pick a damn circle and stand in it! Win ten people in a row, and you can qualify as a gladiator in the Red Blood Arena!"
Thrace raised his arm high, half-kneeling on the ground, pointing to a group of well-dressed noble slave masters on a second-story platform on the north side of the training ground.
"By that time, the owner of the Red Blood Arena, the generous 'Blood Boiling' Karamango, will personally brand you, welcoming you as a new member of the Red Blood Arena!"
In the center of the group of noble slave masters stood a thin old man.
He is "Blood Boiling" Karamango.
