Turning around.
Lake-blue eyes gleamed with the light of death.
The orc captain's body tensed, but before he could react, Water Stream had already lunged forward.
Hidden Killing Dance, Secret Slash Technique.
The orc captain felt his body suddenly lighten, flipping toward the sky.
The world spun around him.
In his fading vision, he saw his headless body staggering, wielding its battle axe.
Blood sprayed from his neck.
His consciousness slipped into darkness.
In a single exchange, the orc captain's head parted from his body, falling heavily to the ground.
"Second round, the adventurer… wins."
Blood Hammer's eyes widened in shock, his hands gripping the wooden post beside him, veins bulging.
A thunderous roar erupted.
A barbarian wielding a massive hammer stepped into the center of the arena, advancing silently with thunderous force.
A level-10 barbarian warrior, shorter than a giant but, compared to Water Stream, more like a bear against a lamb. However, arena combat isn't just a matter of size; Water Stream had already displayed battle skills far beyond ordinary combatants, showcasing unmatched speed and precision.
But overwhelming power can suppress even the most skillful assassin.
The barbarian, muscles bulging and veins popping, surged with strength that could tear through beasts. He was sure that this little woman wouldn't be able to withstand his full blow.
But his opponent had no intention of blocking head-on.
As the towering barbarian charged, Water Stream crouched low, shrinking into a nimble shape, and darted beneath his legs. The barbarian felt a sharp sting in his heels, his body suddenly losing strength, and his massive hammer drove him like dead weight into the ground.
Then, a heart-wrenching howl erupted from his throat. Flat on the ground, he pushed his legs with all his might, but he couldn't stand up.
The tendons in his heels had been severed.
Even all his strength was useless.
The barbarian rolled over, growling in rage and pain, throwing his hammer at Water Stream.
Water Stream looked at her blood-stained hands with distaste and sidestepped the hammer.
"Courting death." She muttered, casting a glance toward Blood Hammer, raising her right hand to the side.
"Dry Leaf, an arrow!" she called out loudly.
Whoosh—
A black-feathered arrow shot out and landed squarely in Water Stream's hand.
The spectators gasped in awe at the perfect timing and precision of this maneuver.
Water Stream leapt forward, holding the feathered arrow like a death knell. The barbarian, now defenseless, could only see the shadow of that dark blade.
Thud—
"Ah...ah…"
The barbarian clawed at the air, but the sharp pain in his throat and the hollowing sensation in his lungs told him his strength was draining fast. He opened his mouth, struggling to breathe, but only found an ever-deepening void and all-consuming darkness.
"Third round…" The dwarf host's voice trembled as he stole a glance at Blood Hammer, then silenced himself.
Water Stream rose, holding the blood-dripping black-feathered arrow. Using it like a dagger, she pierced the barbarian's throat, simply because she didn't want her hands covered in too much blood.
Her face remained calm, as if what she had done was merely an ordinary task, rather than taking down a few brutal fighters.
Beads of sweat dotted Blood Hammer's forehead, and he began to wonder if what he was seeing was some kind of nightmare. Or perhaps a rival force had sent these skilled fighters specifically to sabotage his arena.
"Boss, I've told you many times, warriors from other tribes only have brute strength and no brains. They're useless in combat." A sinister voice whispered beside him, belonging to a cloaked man whose shoulders shifted as he let his cloak slide off, quickly caught by a sharp-eyed subordinate.
It was a human, short in stature, with narrow, slanted eyes, and a face full of cold, murderous intent. Dressed in finely crafted black leather armor, he carried two daggers at his waist.
This was Scythe, one of Blood Hammer's four most capable lieutenant commanders and a level-12 hunter.
"Scythe, have you considered that you might end up losing your life here?" sneered another man wearing a helmet and full armor.
Scythe shot a glare at the mocking figure and spat viciously, "Blood Blade, now's the time to team up, not to sit back and watch each other fail."
Blood Blade, a level-12 heavy armor warrior, glanced into the shadows where a shriveled old man stood gripping a wooden staff. He huffed and said, "Cang Er, we're waiting on you."
The man addressed as Cang Er was an 11th-level sage and the number two figure in Blood Hammer's adventuring party, ranking just below him. His significance was simple: he specialized in healing and support, a talent Blood Hammer's group revered.
"Speed and precision… a high-level assassin." Cang Er gave a dry cough and chuckled. "Boss, three-on-one seems a bit unfair, doesn't it?"
"Unfair? Who cares!" Blood Hammer growled with a wicked grin. "Right now, all I want is her head."
"As you wish, boss," said the three lieutenant commanders, leaping into the arena.
"Boss, they've sent three people this time," Dry Leaf said, watching the opposing movement and furrowing his brow as he saw three figures jump into the arena.
Kent smiled, meeting Water Stream's gaze in the ring.
Water Stream nodded.
"Helmet," Kent said, "and a firebomb."
Splitting Blade, who was prepared, handed over the helmet and a firebomb.
"You all stay put, keep an eye on Water Stream's target, and stay out of it no matter what happens."
Donning his enchanted heavy armor, Kent leapt into the arena.
Splitting Blade and Dry Leaf exchanged glances, reading a mutual understanding in each other's eyes.
The boss was playing for high stakes this time.
Kent and Water Stream stood side by side in the arena.
"Only three, huh? Where's the other guy?" Kent glanced around Blood Hammer's area, seemingly noting the absence of another skilled fighter.
"There's a hunter who isn't in the arena," Water Stream said. "These three aren't weak. Think you can handle it?"
"Whether I can depends on your speed," Kent replied, grinning.
"Ten breaths," Water Stream stepped forward.
"Good," Kent picked up the pace, the fireball spell in his hand igniting the firebomb.
Across the ring, Scythe and Blood Blade readied themselves for the charge.
Kent suddenly noticed the old man behind them, his unremarkable appearance contrasted by his red-glowing, ancient eyes. The old man struck his staff against the ground, muttering something unintelligible. In an instant, two pale yellow auras enveloped Scythe and Blood Blade, igniting a fierce killing intent like flames.
Some kind of enhancement spell.
So they had a mage too.
Kent and Water Stream split up, moving left and right, charging toward the opponents.
Blood Blade and Scythe exchanged a glance, their killing intent boiling over.
One-on-one? Just the way they wanted it.
Blood Blade, clad in full armor, and Scythe, the assassin, each advanced toward Kent and Water Stream.
Dry Leaf gripped his bow tightly.
Every member of the guard squad kept a close eye on the arena, ready to jump in and save their comrades if needed.
The two pairs of fighters closed in instantly.
Boom, boom, boom…