MM Racing Chapter 281 Love! Love! The Berserker Resisting Oppression!
Chapter 281 Love! Love! The Berserker Resisting Oppression!
Chapter 281 Love! Love! The Berserker Resisting Oppression!
"I—I—"
The Command Seals on the back of her hand seemed to sense her boiling emotions and determination, bursting out with a blood-red light that almost scorched through her skin!
"Huh?! Oh no, she's about to summon a Heroic Spirit!" Trebol's expression changed, and he tried to use his ability to block the Command Seals!
But it was too late!
Rebecca used all her strength to scream.
Not towards Torrebol, not towards Rao G, but towards that mysterious connection she had established with...
A wild and rebellious will!
"I don't know who you are!"
"I don't know what you can do!"
"But if you could really make your wish come true—"
"If you are truly power—"
Her tears mingled with blood and ash, yet her cheeks shone with an astonishing resolve.
"Please help me! Help my father! Help this country!"
"Help us—reclaim our freedom from this endless oppression!!!"
The light of the Command Seals engulfed everything.
Torrebol screamed in agony as the sticky chain snapped from the scorching magic!
Rao G was forced back several steps by an invisible force!
A whirlwind of smoke and magic exploded outwards, centered on Rebecca!
The walls of the ancient secret passage are cracked inch by inch!
At the center of that vortex of crimson and magic, a deep, hoarse voice, filled with boundless rage and twisted conviction, echoed through the enclosed space, as if emanating from the deepest depths of hell.
"like----"
"The love spoken of by the oppressors is chains!"
"The love bestowed by rulers is poison!"
"Love based on compromise and exchange — it's a lie!"
The smoke and dust dissipated slightly.
A figure slowly stood up.
He was an exceptionally tall and muscular man, his muscles bulging as if cast in steel.
He was shirtless, his bronze skin covered with a mix of old and new scars, like medals of honor.
She wore a simple leather battle skirt and Roman-style sandals.
His face was rugged, his eyes burned with an inextinguishable flame of resistance, and a tattered headband was tied around his forehead.
What is most striking are the dark red patterns that seem to have life wrapped around his body, and the huge, ferocious scimitar in his hand.
He stood there like a volcano about to erupt, emanating a pure and extremely ferocious aura that made even powerful figures like Torrebol and Rao G feel a chill run down their spines.
The man looked down at Rebecca, who was slumped on the ground, staring blankly at him.
The burning pupils reflected the girl's face, a face filled with fear yet tinged with anticipation.
Then he spoke, his voice like the friction of sand and gravel.
"I am Spartacus. Enemy of Rome, the blade of oppression."
"You who answer your call, you who bear love and defy fate—"
A wild, almost ferocious smile spread across his lips.
Tell me—
"You wish to rebel against your oppressors—"
His gaze, like a tangible blade, swept over Torrebol and Rao G, whose expressions had drastically changed, and over the oppressive underground passage, as if piercing through layers of rock to see the kingdom above, ruled by lies and violence.
"Where?! ...
Magic is roaring.
The clarion call of resistance has sounded in the darkest corners.
Spartacus's arrival was like throwing a spark into a sealed barrel of dynamite.
The dark red patterns on his body writhed like living things, and each breath he took carried a scorching airflow. His eyes, burning with the flames of rebellion, were fixed on Torrebol and Rao G, as if he wanted to burn them to ashes.
"The oppressor—here!" Spartacus roared, his voice like muffled thunder.
The girl, trembling all over but with a stubborn look in her eyes, was instinctively categorized as an oppressed person.
His anger was directed entirely at the two enemies who exuded the aura of rulers.
"Sticky Shield!" Torrebol reacted extremely quickly, a large amount of viscous liquid gushing out from his body, forming a highly elastic shield in front of him.
Lao G assumed a stance resembling a pounding fist, his muscles bulging, and Armament Haki covering his fists: "G Impact!"
Spartacus's response was simple and blunt.
He stepped forward, his grotesque scimitar whistling as it tore through the air, and slashed at the sticky shield without any fancy moves!
"laugh--!!!"
The blade was deeply embedded in the sticky shield, but instead of cutting through it, it was tightly bound by the viscous liquid!
Even more bizarrely, the shield transmitted a tremendous amount of recoil, as if it were actively absorbing and reflecting the attack!
"Fufufu! Useless!" Torrepol chuckled.
"My Sticky-Sticky Fruit can absorb impacts and bounce back! The stronger you are, the stronger the bounce!"
But Spartacus's face broke into an even wilder grin.
"A rebound? Great!"
Instead of pulling back, he pressed down with even more frantic force!
Muscles bulged, veins popped, and the curved blade groaned under the strain of the sticky shield, yet it still managed to penetrate a few more inches!
At the same time, the dark red patterns on his body suddenly lit up, emitting an ominous red light!
"What?!" Torrepol suddenly sensed something was wrong.
His ability was indeed absorbing the impact, but the absorbed power was not completely stored or rebounded. Instead, it flowed into Spartacus's body continuously, as if being sucked into some kind of black hole!
"My body is the furnace of rebellion!" Spartacus roared.
"The pain inflicted by oppression, the impact inflicted, the weight of restraint! All will become my kindling, igniting an even fiercer fire of resistance!"
The Glory of Being Abused (A) - Transforms some of the damage, restraint, and negative status effects suffered into one's own magic and power!
The stronger the shockwave of the sticky shield, the faster Spartacus absorbs and converts it!
His momentum surged, and the power in his scimitar increased exponentially!
"Snap!"
Cracks have appeared on the surface of the sticky shield!
"Impossible!" Torrepol exclaimed in utter shock.
"Rao G! Let's go!"
"Ground Fist - G Explosion!" Rao G instantly appeared to Spartacus's side, his heavy punch, imbued with Armament Haki, slamming into Spartacus's ribs!
Spartacus neither dodged nor evaded, but even slightly turned his body to take the punch head-on!
"Thump!" A dull impact rang out, and Spartacus's ribs were clearly dented, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, he used the momentum to press his scimitar completely into the sticky shield!
"Pfft!" The sticky shield was finally cleaved open, the blade grazing Torrebol's nose and spraying a mouthful of thick blood!
"Aaaaah!" Torrebol screamed and staggered back, a deep, bone-revealing wound now marring his face.
But Rao G's fist, which struck Spartacus, now felt a strange burning pain.
The domineering aura covering his fist was actually being slowly eroded and absorbed by the patterns!
"Monster—!" Rao G hurriedly withdrew his fist and retreated.
In just a few rounds, two high-ranking Donquixote Family officers were suppressed by a newly summoned Heroic Spirit. Spartacus flicked the slime off his blade, and his sunken ribs quickly recovered as the dark red patterns writhed.
He glanced at Rebecca, who was slumped on the ground, and the broken toy soldier, and the fire in his eyes softened for a moment.
"Young woman, lead your suffering brethren back. I will sever this oppression."
Rebecca, as if waking from a dream, scrambled to Cyrus's side, trying to help him up: "Soldier! Are you alright!"
"Rei—Becca—Quick—" Ju...Shi's toy body was badly damaged, and his voice was intermittent.
"This heroic spirit—is too dangerous—now's the time—"
"No! I won't leave!" Rebecca cried, tears welling up. "He appeared in response to my call! I can't leave him!"
She looked up at Spartacus's tall back and mustered her courage to shout.
"Mr. Spartacus! Please—please be careful! They are powerful! And there are more of them!"
Spartacus turned around and gave her a smile that was both terrifying and strangely reassuring.
"It doesn't matter. The more oppressors there are, the fiercer the flames of resistance will burn!"
He turned again to Torrepol and Rao G, holding his scimitar horizontally.
"Come, continue. Let me feel—the weight of your love!"
Just as the battle was about to break out again—
That's all.
An unquestionable and authoritative voice came from the other side of the passage.
The footsteps were neither hurried nor slow.
Wearing a black trench coat and carrying the Black Blade Night, Hawkeye Mihawk slowly walked into the ravaged battlefield.
Behind him followed Shakespeare, who strolled gracefully, and Perona and Absalom, who looked on with curiosity.
The appearance of Hawkeye seemed to cause the temperature in the arena to drop sharply.
Trebol and Rao G instantly abandoned their fighting stances and bowed respectfully: "Lord Mihawk!"
Spartacus's pupils suddenly contracted.
He sensed an even heavier aura emanating from the black-clad swordsman.
It wasn't direct oppression, but rather a detached, detached perspective that allowed one to observe everything from a distance.
"A new oppressor?" Spartacus's voice was deep, his muscles tense.
"That's not the case." Hawkeye's gaze swept over Spartacus, lingering for a moment on the dark red patterns, before turning to Rebecca and Cyrus behind him.
"I am Jorah Mihawk, a member of the Cross Society." He introduced himself simply and clearly.
"I have a general understanding of what happened here."
He looked at Trebol: "Doflamingo's order wasn't to bring this girl over, was it? Is this what you call 'inviting'?"
Torrepol covered his face and nodded with difficulty: "Young Master Dover's orders—"
"By force?" Hawkeye's tone was calm, but it sent a chill down Torrepol's spine.
"This—this—"
"Foolish," Hawkeye commented bluntly.
"Oppression only breeds the most extreme resistance when faced with a person filled with fear and hatred."
He looked at Spartacus: "And you, your anger is indeed astonishing, but venting it here will only push your Master into a more dangerous situation."
Spartacus scoffed, "Danger? We are already in danger! Compromise and retreat will only tighten the chains!"
"Nobody's forcing you to compromise." Hawkeye stepped forward, meeting Spartacus's gaze head-on.
In that instant, invisible forces clashed in the air!
Spartacus felt the pressure of the sword intent coming towards him. It was not malicious, but pure and immense, causing the patterns on his body to automatically light up to defend against it!
Hawkeye simply looked at him calmly.
"But have you ever thought about why your Master summoned you?" Hawkeye asked.
"Just to take down two pawns here?"
Spartacus remained silent.
"What she's calling for is freedom," Hawkeye said, providing the answer for him.
"It's freedom that was won back from this country, from Doflamingo's rule. You might defeat him, but you can't completely liberate the people."
Spartacus gripped his scimitar tightly: "I will fight to my last breath!"
"And then?" Hawkeye pressed.
"You died in battle, she fell into enemy hands, and everything continues as before. Is this the kind of resistance you wanted?"
"I—" Spartacus stammered. He excelled at destruction and combat, but strategy and the future were not his forte.
At this moment, Shakespeare gracefully stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me, William Shakespeare, to offer a little dramatic twist to this deadlock."
.
With a gentle flick of his quill pen, magical light scattered and condensed into several flowing images in the air.
The scene depicts Arjuna, who reigns supreme in Impel Down and is bathed in divine light; Blackbeard, laughing maniacally as he devours everything; and Im, who hangs high in the sky, coldly looking down upon everything.
"Behold, on this vast world stage, oppression and chaos extend far beyond this." Shakespeare's voice rose and fell, as if reciting a poem.
"The tragedy of Dressrosa is just one scene in a larger drama. In the distance, there are gods who attempt to reshape life and death, madmen who want to devour the world, and rulers who freeze everything with an extreme order—"
Compared to them, Doflamingo's evil deeds even seem somewhat mediocre.
Torrepol and Rao G. looked grim, but dared not refute.
Rebecca stared blankly at the images, especially the black-bearded man's chillingly insane smile and Arjuna's divine radiance that seemed to purify everything, which sent shivers down her spine.
"What do you wish to demonstrate?" Spartacus frowned.
"Show me a choice," Shakespeare smiled.
He looked at Rebecca: "My lovely lady, with this power, you can stop a disaster that could destroy the entire world."
Rebecca opened her mouth, but couldn't say a word.
She was just a girl who wanted to live; the survival of the world was too far away for her.
"Of course, this doesn't mean you have to become a savior immediately."
Shakespeare said with understanding.
"It's just a suggestion. Instead of fighting to the death here, let's have a temporary truce. We can provide protection and give you the freedom to choose whether to leave or stay and observe."
"What are the conditions?" Cyrus, who had been silent all along, asked hoarsely.
"The conditions are simple," Hawkeye continued.
"Do not attack each other before identifying the real enemy. When necessary, cooperation may be limited in the face of a common enemy."
"As for Doflamingo—"
He looked at Torrepol: "I will go and talk to him."
Torrepol bowed his head: "Young Master Dover—he should respect your opinion."
Spartacus's hostility subsided slightly, but he remained wary: "How can I trust you?"
Hawkeye paused. "I am a swordsman, and I disdain lies. This is the fairest proposal I can offer."
Silence fell over the passageway.
Rebecca looked at Spartacus, then at her damaged father, and finally at Hawkeye's calm yet all-seeing eyes.
This black-clad swordsman is unlike any of those vicious pirates or hypocritical nobles.
He possesses a kind of purity.
"I—" Rebecca took a deep breath and mustered her courage, "I believe in Mr. Mihawk."
She looked at Spartacus: "Mr. Spartacus, could you—please stop? I want—I want to save my father first."
Spartacus looked at the pleading tears in the girl's eyes, then at Hawkeye, and finally, lowered his scimitar.
"—As you wish," he said in a low voice, "but if oppression returns, my blade will rise again."
"Okay." Hawkeye nodded.
"Then let's leave here first. Shakespeare, can you temporarily shield them from their spirit origin fluctuations?"
"I'd be happy to help."