Chapter 371: Arena of Trees (Part One)
In the arena above, iron gates thundered open all around the arena floor. Not just one or two of them, but every single entrance at once. The sound of dozens of rolling wagons and clanking chains filled the air as an army of workers poured onto the sands. Tuscans, their towering forms making even fully grown men look like children beside them, followed close behind while hauling massive carts piled high with rich, dark soil. Behind them came scores of arena servants pushing wheelbarrows laden with young trees and sacks of seed.
"Weren’t these men defeated by the Willow Whip days ago?" One person in the crowd asked. "What are they doing here now?"
"Look, they’re acting like laborers," another man said, pointing to the group of ferocious soldiers who had given up their weapons and armor in exchange for simple tunics and gardener’s tools. "Is this because they were defeated in the battle against the Willow Witch?"
Under the wide eyes of the crowd, the arena began to undergo a rapid transformation into something entirely new. Some in the crowd wondered if this was intended as an odd sort of decoration for the final battle, but if that was the case, the scale of the work being done was grander than any ’decoration’ they’d ever seen for a single battle.
Whatever these servants were doing, it had clearly been planned with military precision. Each worker knew their exact role and duty. Some rushed about, scattering soil while others tamped it down, creating a foundation that would support what was to come. Arena staff who normally cleared away fallen fighters now carefully measured distances between saplings, calling out positions in voices that echoed off the arena walls.
Meanwhile, the Tuscan giants worked with surprising delicacy despite their massive size. Once they had finished digging deep holes in the sands with oversized shovels, their trunks carefully lifted precious young willows from their pots and settled them into the freshly dug holes with the precision of practiced gardeners.
What should have taken days of preparation was being accomplished in a matter of minutes through the coordinated efforts of nearly a hundred workers. The audience, who had been eagerly awaiting another bloody spectacle, found themselves watching an entirely different kind of performance as the arena was transformed before their eyes.
Seeing the scale of activity, many arena veterans were already anticipating that the scale of the final battle would be one unrivaled by any other fought in the arena this year if not this decade.
"For the final battle, ten tails, gold, on the Willow Whip!" one man shouted as his heart pounded in his chest. "No, make that twenty!"