The Hell Slaughter Arena was alive with chaos and anticipation as I stepped into the ring for my first match. My heart pounded, but my expression remained calm.
Around me, nine other participants entered, their eyes sharp with bloodlust. Each one was a potential predator and prey. I had decided to rely solely on my first martial soul for now. There was no need to reveal too much too soon; ninety-nine matches remained, and plenty of assassination attempts would likely fill the gaps between them.
Among my competitors, a woman with wild hair smirked when her gaze landed on me. "A child? Really? Did you get lost, little boy?" Her mocking tone drew laughter from a few others.
I ignored her, keeping my focus on the battlefield. Words wouldn't change the outcome of this match. By the time it was over, she would be a corpse, and I would still be standing.
The tension in the ring thickened. There were no rules here, no referee to signal the start. The battle began the moment someone decided it should. A hulking man with a crooked nose let out a guttural roar and charged at the nearest competitor, wielding a massive axe. That was the signal.
The battle erupted in a storm of chaos. Blood sprayed across the ring as the axe-wielding man cleaved his first opponent in half. Screams and the clash of weapons filled the air. I stayed on the perimeter, observing and waiting for the right moment to strike. The wild-haired woman dashed toward a wiry man armed with dual daggers. Her agility was alm almost impressive, and she swiftly slit his throat before moving to her next target.
Another participant noticed me standing off to the side and charged, swinging a heavy mace. I sidestepped his wild swing, and then my black armor and arm blades emerged with a metallic hiss. With a quick slash, I cut his tendons, dropping him to his knees. His screams were short-lived as I drove my blade into his chest, ending his life in an instant.
The woman who had mocked me earlier noticed my kill and turned her attention toward me. "Not bad for a kid," she said with a sneer, lunging forward with a short sword. Her movements were quick and calculated, but I had seen enough of her fighting style to anticipate her next move.
As her blade came toward my neck, I ducked and twisted, bringing my arm blade upward. The edge of my blade found her abdomen, cutting deep. She stumbled back, clutching her wound, her eyes wide with shock and fury. "You little—"
Her words were cut off as I moved forward, slashing again. This time, I aimed for her throat. Blood sprayed from the gash, and she crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Around me, the number of combatants dwindled quickly. The axe-wielding man had killed two more, but his stamina was flagging. Another participant, a wiry man with a spear, took advantage of the axe-wielder's exhaustion, driving his weapon through his chest. The spear-wielder barely had time to withdraw his weapon before a dagger pierced his back, thrown by a cloaked man lurking in the shadows of the ring.
The cloaked man turned his attention to me, a twisted grin on his face. He retrieved another dagger from his belt and hurled it in my direction. I deflected the blade with my arm and before he could throw another, I closed the distance between us, my speed catching him off guard.
I drove one blade into his side and twisted, feeling the crunch of ribs breaking beneath the force. His grin turned into a grimace of pain, and I ended his misery with a second strike to his heart.
The arena was nearly silent now. Only one other participant remained. A lean woman wielding twin scimitars. Her eyes were sharp and calculating as she faced me. She was good; I could tell by the way she carried herself. Too bad she wasn't going to be good enough.
We circled each other, neither of us making the first move. The crowd roared, eager for the final clash. Finally, she lunged, her scimitars flashing like silver lightning. I stopped her strikes, my arm blades clashing against her weapons in a symphony of metal. Her attacks were relentless, each one faster and more precise than the last. But I held my ground.
She overextended on one swing, and I seized the opportunity. Ducking under her strike, I drove my blade into her thigh. She hissed in pain but didn't falter, swinging her other scimitar toward my head, but I leaned back quickly.
Then, with a burst of speed, I stepped inside her guard, slashing upward with both blades. One second later, both of her arms lying on the floor, separated from her body. She stumbled back, blood dripping from the wounds. I didn't give her a chance to realize what had happened. With one final strike, I drove my blade through her heart, ending the fight.
The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers as I stood alone in the blood-soaked ring. My chest heaved, but I didn't feel tired. The adrenaline coursing through my veins kept me sharp. I could feel some killing intent remaining inside me, just a little bit, but it was there.
The arena's gate opened, signaling the end of the match. I left the ring without looking back, ignoring the shouting and laughter of the spectators. My focus was already on finding a place to stay.
After wandering the streets near the arena, I found a small, dingy building with a sign indicating rooms for rent. The proprietor was a grizzled old man who barely looked up as I handed over a Bloody Mary as payment, not my own blood, of course. He showed me to a room, barely more than a closet with a bed and a chair. It would suffice.
I locked the door and sat on the bed, my mind racing. The first fight was over, but there were ninety-nine more to go. And the real danger wasn't in the arena, it was out here, in the streets, where betrayal and assassination were as common as breathing.
Lying down, I tried to relax, but my nerves wouldn't let me. Sleep was a liability here. If I let my guard down, I might not wake up. Just as I was beginning to wonder how I'd manage, the Dragon Slaying Saber appeared. It materialized beside me, its blade gleaming faintly in the dim light.
To my surprise, it settled on the bed next to me, like a loyal guardian. Its presence was comforting, a silent promise of protection. With the saber by my side, I finally allowed myself to close my eyes and get some rest.