Martial Online.

Chapter 153 The Battlefield

"..." Ambrose sat on a bench and stared out towards the ancient door. The villagers minded their own business as they walked by. A few children threw glances in his direction, as they hadn't seen an outsider before and were curious.

However, their mothers led them away. They didn't want their children to get too close to an outsider, even if he was frequent visitor of their grandmaster.

'Black-ranked criminals. Huh, I never expected there to be such dangerous individuals just roaming around. I wonder how high their bounty is.

'That one red bounty I saw already had an astonishing bounty, but I feel like black bounties will throw me off my feet!'

Ambrose felt curiosity rising inside him and kind of wanted to see those bounties and the reward.

However, if the rank itself was hidden from the public, he wondered if even those bounty posters existed.

'One thing is clear: I have to stay away from red-ranked criminals. I doubt I will ever meet someone black-ranked, but being careful doesn't hurt.

'The giant yesterday was most likely only brown-ranked, and he killed me by a single blow, even if I was already injured and had low HP.

'Ah right, I am tired of saying brown-ranked criminal, as I also have that rank, but I don't think of myself as a criminal.' Ambrose tapped his chin. 'What should I call the people with bounties?'

'Brown-ranked pirate... no.

'Brown-ranked felon... no.

'Hmm, perhaps a Brown-ranked Outlaw? It's not that different from criminal, but I like the sound of that more.' Ambrose shrugged his shoulders and then gazed out towards the ancient door, lost in thought.

He had finished his swordsmanship training for today and was free to go to Warhaven. He still felt hesitant.

'Hmm, this is a risk-reward situation. My mind tells me not to go, but my body says otherwise. I should listen to my gut instinct and trust my own judgment.

'I will go.'

Ambrose stood up and rummaged through his pockets until he grabbed the brass key. He then walked over to the ancient door and opened it with the key.

As he entered the darkness, the door automatically shut down, and then instantly the lanterns lit up the small cave.

After reaching the end of the cave, the old minecart awaited him.

"Oh, it's still intact." Ambrose tossed the brass key into his inventory and looked at the minecart.

He didn't expect the minecart to make the return trip, as it looked to be at breaking point.

As he climbed on the minecart, he flicked the lever and felt the minecart slowly gain speed. He clenched his fists as he braced himself for another dangerous trip.

...

"Chargeee!"

"Kill those fucking wet-eared bastards!"

The blood splattered, and screams followed on a messy battlefield.

The swords smashed into shields, weapons clashed, and bodies fell to the ground.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and the deafening sounds of war. The corpses were piled like mountains on the nearby hills, and the middle of those corpse mountains was used as the battlefield.

A towering black castle stood proudly in the distance. Its tall fortress walls surrounded the battlefield, ensuring that no one would be able to escape.

This black castle was the Sanctorioum of the Inquisitorious.

Screaming men and women continued swarming from the mountain entrance. It was also the entrance to Warhaven, with the Gate of Freedom slightly further back.

"Die beneath my massive hammer!" A muscle-toned man spun his large hammer around, killing everyone around him. He was a brown-ranked Outlaw with a bounty of 11,450 silvers!

The skulls shattered around him, and then he raised the hammer high and smashed it down to the ground. The shockwave swept the legs off of nearby Inquisitor disciples, and he used that as an opportunity to finish them off.

With a triumphant roar, he smashed the side of his fist against his well-toned chest.

At the top of one of the fortress walls, a White Inquisitor lowered his binoculars and told the disciple next to him. "Increase the bounty of that man."

"Roger." The disciple wrote it down and memorized the person's features. He then looked at the numerous bounty posters in his possession to see if any of them had any resemblance.

Luckily, one had, so he didn't have to go check the bounty gallery for the rest of the night.

"Tunk "The Hammer" Jacobson." The disciple said the name aloud and then the bounty. "Bounty of 11,450 silvers."

"Hmm, increase it to 12,000 silvers." The White Inquisitor said. "Then spread the word among disciples to target that person if he returns to the battlefield. Whoever kills him can have a shot in the Inquisitorious Test."

"Yes, sir." The disciple said with a tone of envy.

It had been his dream to try the Inquisitorious Test. The one who completed the test with perfect marks would become the White Inquisitor. However, he had never gotten the chance.

'One day...' The disciple narrowed his eyes as he looked over to the battlefield. 'Tomorrow is my turn to enter the battlefield. I will kill those scumbags and show them what I am capable of!'

...

At the Gates of Freedom.

Creak—the gate opened with a loud creak, allowing a new group to enter the battlefield. They didn't want to overflow the battlefield with too many people; otherwise, it would be a complete mess.

Therefore, the gate would open every thirty minutes.

After the gate opened, hundreds of wounded men and women limped away from the battlefield with blood dripping down their clothes. Then there were a powerful-looking individuals who shoved the injured ones to the side as they exited through the gates, returning to Warhaven.

The new group of Outlaws watched as they left, and when the injured ones also exited, they entered through the open gate and followed a dark tunnel that was getting brighter further they walked.

The smell of blood and decay became very prominent.

As the gates were slowly closing again, a hooded figure donning a red cloak sprinted through the open gate and followed after the group of Outlaws, who were walking either towards their deaths or glory.

'This is it...' Ambrose thought beneath the red hood. Since he lost his Crow Cloak, he had to use the red one. He didn't like the color of it, but he didn't have anything else to hide his features.

With his hand on the hilt of his Black Blade, he stepped out into the dimming light. He covered his eyes until it was easier to see.

He looked over at the orange sky that had no clouds and saw the sun slowly hiding behind the hill of corpses as night was arriving.

But then screams entered his ears like a loud bell.

He focused on the battlefield and saw people dying with each passing second.

'Let's try not to die on the first try, alright?' Ambrose drew his black-bladed sword and let out a deafening scream as he charged into the chaos.

The black blade cut apart the air and slammed into the shield of one of the disciples. The disciple gritted his teeth and stabbed his sword forward with a maddening cry. His eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were covered in dirt and blood.

He fought with unyielding determination, refusing to let his injuries hinder him. He looked like he had suffered a lot today.

Ambrose flicked his wrist and masterfully deflected the sword from reaching him. He then remembered his training from today—a slash to the leg, then to the head before finishing it off with overhead chop.

As he only used his right hand to wield the sword, he suddenly slashed towards the ground, but the disciple soon saw that his opponent's target was his legs. He quickly smashed his ordinary-looking sword into the black blade, successfully blocking it.

As he heaved a sigh of relief, Ambrose suddenly lifted his sword and slashed towards his exposed neck.

With barely any time to spare, the disciple placed the shield between his neck and the black blade. If he were a millisecond slower, his head would've been separated from his torso.

The disciple contemplated the counter-attack move that would finish off his opponent, but the weight suddenly left his shield as the black blade moved over towards the red-cloaked young man.

Ambrose screamed and made an overhead slash. The disciple, in a hurry, placed the shield above his head, but it was battle-marred with cracks on the wooden parts.

Thus, the black blade cut through the shield and the disciple's head.

'Whoo...' Ambrose took a deep breath as his first victim fell in front of him. He didn't have time to pick up the dropped items or silvers, as the chaotic battlefield didn't allow any distractions.

Thus, he charged forward to find another target.