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The first impression Ash had of the Death Battle Society was that it was dim.
Unlike the bright places in other parts of the prison, the Death Battle Society had very few lights. Aside from the incandescent bulbs illuminating the deathmatch stage in the center, the surrounding high platforms for the audience had almost no lighting, as if the spectators were submerged in darkness, leaving only the two figures fighting on the stage.
This was also the place where Ash had seen the most prisoners. Following Lanna all the way here, he had only encountered a few prisoners along the way. When passing by the library and gym, Ash had only seen about ten prisoners. However, after entering the Death Battle Society, even without bright lighting, just by listening to the whispers and making out the vague outlines in the darkness, Ash could tell that there were nearly a hundred people in the Death Battle Society!
"Lanna, you're here?"
"A newcomer? Oh, the head of the Gods of Four Pillars. Bold kid, even daring to interact with the Gods of Four Pillars."
"Gourmet Lanna has arrived!"
"Lanna, is that your little boyfriend? Changed your taste, huh?" joked a burly man with a giggle.
"Desmond, say that nonsense again and ruin the relationship between me and my boyfriend, and I'll bite you to death!" Lanna retorted angrily, though it sounded more playful than genuinely mad.
However, the surrounding laughter fell silent. The burly man named Desmond quickly brought his hands together in apology: "Haha, Lanna, I didn't mean it like that. So, are you going to introduce the newcomer?"
Lanna huffed, seemingly choosing not to pursue the matter. Desmond sighed in relief and quickly retreated into the crowd.
Observing this, Ash quietly distanced himself from Lanna.
He already felt it. Any seemingly 'weak and easy to bully' bald bystander he found was likely to be an infamous killer in this prison.
"Ash Heath, a newcomer who arrived in the past few days. He wants to participate in a deathmatch, so I brought him to have a look," Lanna said with a smile. "Who's fighting now?"
"'Diamond' Tiger versus 'Blind Beast' Rudor."
"Why is Rudor... Ah, well, Tiger is an old hand, but he won't even spare a bit of contribution. Didn't you challenge Rudor?"
"Of course, we wouldn't miss this juicy opportunity, but Rudor hasn't seen Tiger in a deathmatch, thinks Tiger is easier to bully, and Tiger's stakes are high, so..."
Ash leaned over to the audience seating, watching the one-sided massacre on the stage below—a frail old white-haired man and a muscular green-skinned Beastman were battling barehanded.
Yes, a one-sided massacre. Though both sides were attacking without defense, the white-haired old man endured a punch as large as a sand pot without wavering, without gasping, without even leaving a red mark on his skin, as if the green-skinned Beastman was hitting him with a baby's strength.
However, in return, every punch from the white-haired old man was as heavy as a thousand pounds, issuing sounds like stones shattering on the green-skinned Beastman's body, which made one's scalp tingle just listening.
When Ash arrived, the green-skinned Beastman had already been beaten to a bloody pulp, not a patch of unhurt flesh left, a few teeth gone, and his eyes swollen shut.
With a heavy blow, the green-skinned Beastman was struck several meters away, crashing against the wall with a thud, leaving a trace of blood as he slid down, unable to rise.
Yet the white-haired old man glanced upwards, then surged forward to continue pounding the green-skinned Beastman.
He seemed like a bathhouse worker scrubbing grime, punching again and again to strip the Beastman's flesh away.
Ash watched with some reluctance: "Isn't the match over? Why hasn't it ended?"
"Game over? Not yet," someone nearby chuckled. "Try reaching out your hand."
Following the suggestion, Ash extended his hand, only to find himself touching an invisible wall of air, which rippled with resonant waves. An invisible barrier encapsulated the lower stage, completely isolating it from the surrounding audience seats.
"Only when one party dies or falls completely unconscious will the isolation barrier release, allowing a Medical Practitioner to emerge from that door to drag the body back for treatment."
The person pointed to an inconspicuous door in the stage: "As long as the barrier remains, you can't let your guard down, you must keep pressing and crushing your opponent."
"Moreover, there's no surrender in deathmatches. The defeated only have two possibilities: death or unconsciousness."
"Many fools, overconfident and underestimating their adversaries, fall in these matches. They stop halfway through, treating it as a friendly spar, only to be killed by a counterattack from their opponent, losing a huge amount of contribution, skyrocketing into the upper ranks of the Judgement Series... But that's also the point of the Death Battle Society, to shift contributions to those more deserving."
Thud!
Hearing a dull punch, Ash felt like the Beastman's insides had been blasted out, and couldn't help but ask, "Can they really save him?"
"He hasn't lost consciousness yet, but even if they save him, it won't be much different from dying. Look up there."
Ash looked up to find the ceiling's glowing spot was a display Light Screen showing match information:
"Tiger Norris stakes 35 contributions."
"VS"
"Rudor Tooth stakes 5 contributions."
Astonished, Ash blurted out, "These stakes aren't equal. Why would Tiger stake so much more?"
"As long as both parties agree, even unequal stakes can be valid," the person explained leisurely. "Besides, it's rare to see equal stakes in deathmatches. By the rules, every time you participate, you must stake slightly more than the previous match. Tiger has fought in 34 deathmatches before, so this time he must stake 35 contributions."
"So this is Rudor's fifth deathmatch?"
"No, it's his tenth. Every prisoner starts with 50 contribution points. With one additional stake per match, he staked a total of 45 points in his previous nine matches, leaving only 5 for this one."
The person nearby sneered.
"Thus, if Rudor loses this match, he will have no contributions left and can never earn more through deathmatches. Unless he can pull Gold Coins out from his stomach, he will always remain the first in the Judgement Series."
"Oh," said Ash, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, does that mean he lost the first nine matches too!?"
"That's why they call him 'Blind Beast' Rudor. He always chooses opponents he can't defeat."
Thud!
Following a resonating punch, the green-skinned Beastman's head looked like it was about to explode. At the same moment, the ceiling's Light Screen chimed, flashing "The match is over."
The stage's barrier instantly dissipated, and the door on the stage creaked open. Three masked figures in black robes entered without a stretcher and just dragged the Beastman's body away.
"The old man is too wicked, playing the fool to fleece contribution from the Beastman."
"Trick? I've always known the old man isn't easy—Rudor's got poor judgement and a poor head. You don't even need to think hard to know that the elderly, women, or children able to survive here in the Death Battle Society aren't easy to deal with."
"How many has the old man carried off?"
"Since the day I came here, the old man has carried off at least five."
"Old man, you have so much contribution already, next time leave such opportunities for us young ones to toil over. That beast too, if it's purely for giving contribution, better give it to me."
The crowd chattered noisily in the dark as the white-haired old man wiped blood off his fists with a towel, suddenly coughing repeatedly, spitting out several mouthfuls of bloody phlegm, and gasped in alarm, "That Beastman's punches pack quite a punch; I think I'm internally injured..."
"Who believes you!"
The crowd roared in unison, seemingly having seen others fooled once and then twice playing sheep and tiger with the old man.
"He's strong in this ring."
Ash turned to his right to find the Sword Maiden suddenly there again.
Different from the others, the dim lighting had no effect on her, as though she emitted her own light to dispel the darkness, starkly seated on the railing.
Strangely, she had changed outfits, now appearing in a tight-fitting training kendo uniform, with her long red hair tied up, looking the part of a spirited swordswoman.
Ash instinctively asked, "Why is he strong?"
"Because in this ring, only attack permissions are open, while Magic Power remains limited."
The person next to him and the Sword Maiden replied in unison.
The Sword Maiden cast a glance at Ash, who had his mouth covered, then continued, "There are many types of Mages—artisans, warriors, scholars, healers... But most mages can only command Technique Spirits through Magic Power. If you limit their Magic Power output, they are no different from ordinary people."
"However, there's a fraction of mages who, without Technique Spirits, still possess strengths beyond mere mortals—that's the Body Technique Masters."
"Generally, all mages involved in physical cultivation can be called Body Technique Masters, like Sword Masters, Boxers, Gun Masters, Long Spear Masters, Axe Masters... With appropriate weapons, they can also fight many at once. Yet, in terms of physical status, they don't surpass ordinary people considerably—they hold 'skill' advantages."
"There's a type of Body Technique Masters who, through relentless bodily enhancement and even Technique Spirit modifications to their flesh and structural framework, wield their own bodies as weapons, achieving crushing-level brutality. Even without Technique Spirits, their physical amplification doesn't fade. In other places, it might not matter, but in this prison where Technique Spirits are banned, their advantages shine to the fullest!"
"This type of Body Technique Masters is named—a Weak Mage."
"Flesh weakened, their bodies are no longer flesh constructions."
Ash looked over to see the old white-haired man, upon leaving the stage, slicing his fingers across the railing, cutting it down as it crumbled away!
'Diamond' Tiger... so that's the meaning!
"Since you're here, start a fight," recommended the Sword Maiden. "Just avoid fighting that old man. Oh, by the way, for your first fight, pick someone who's also barehanded, and you best fight barehanded as well."
"Why?"
"Because your body is too weak. If you wield a real sword, you might not even swing a few times before getting crippled; and if the opponent also uses punches, at least you can maneuver for a few rounds, buying time for experience transfer," she added, crossing her arms. "I'm more afraid of you getting disarmed, then decapitated by your own weapon in a graphic scene. Your first match should be bare-knuckle."
"I'm not expecting you to win, but you should at least know how to take a hit?"
Ash complied with the Sword Maiden's suggestion and turned to ask the person nearby who'd been chatting with him, "I want to join a deathmatch, preferably against someone barehanded. Do you have any recommendations?"
"Barehanded fighting? You've asked the right guy, brother. I'm into barehanded fighting myself. Let's have a match; I promise not to bully you."
"Sure, sure, but this is my first deathmatch, and I'll only stake 1 contribution point. Even if you play dumb, you can't earn much," Ash joked.
"Don't worry, brother. Not only won't I take your contribution, I'll even give you some. I'm quite weak, seeing as—"
Suddenly, the Death Battle Society's lights brightened fully, consuming the darkness of the spectator area, making everything starkly visible.
Only then did Ash realize that the 'friendly stranger' he'd been chatting with was someone he'd met not too long ago.
"—even you wanted to give my face a punch."
Igula smiled at Ash and said, "We meet again, Ash, with your cute fists."
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