Clang!
In an instant, the pale young man's sword was blocked by another blade just as it was about to reach Hector's neck.
"Fuck! I nearly pissed myself," Hector muttered, shivering as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the arena wall.
"Finally... It's him," he whispered, relief flooding his eyes as he looked at another young man, cloaked in dark fabric that covered his face and reached to the ground.
The pale young man's face changed in anger that someone had dared to get in his way.
"You dare interfere? Do you even know who I am?" he snarled.
The man in the dark cloak smiled.
"Oh, I know... I know exactly who you are," he said calmly, every word deliberate.
Then, he slowly pulled back his hood, revealing his face.
The pale young man flinched, his expression hardening, but he didn't back down.
"Shall we make a deal? Huh? How about that.''
Then, he turned to Hector with anger and hissed, "He knew about this challenge!"
"We—"
"No," the cloaked man cut in, his voice cold and flat.
"No?"
The pale young man clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing with fury. Then his gaze shifted back to Hector.
"Today, you're dead. No one's saving you this time."
Shing!
He drew his sword again in one swift motion, aiming to finish Hector off.
However,
Thud!
"Urgh!" The pale young man's black eyes widened in atonishment as he clutched his throat, waves of pain crashing over him.
He staggered back a few steps while staring at the cloaked young man with a look of disbelief and confusion.
"H-How...?"
The truth was, he hadn't meant to attack Hector; his real target had been the man in the cloak. All the words were just a distraction.
He'd seen the blur of motion, but he couldn't react in time. All he caught was the sudden glint of a hilt lunging at his throat.
The attacker was just way too fast and too strong.
The cloaked young man grinned quietly.
"How?" he repeated coldly. "It's simple. You're just too weak."
His voice cut like ice.
"Stop thinking the world revolves around you. Otherwise... the second challenge will be your grave, Haley."
Haley clenched his jaw for a moment before letting out a bitter sigh.
"Fine! But you failed this challenge too. You've not even fought the monster," he snapped.
As he turned to walk away, he muttered over his shoulder,
"I'll beat you next time, Kevin."
Ten minutes passed. The arena returned to its eerie, oppressive silence.
Beside Hector, another young man sat with his back against the wall like Hector. His cloak hid most of his body, making it impossible to see what he wore underneath.
There was something unsettlingly familiar about him. He looked just like a character from one of the novels Hector had read... although not exactly. There were slight differences.
His face was striking, sharp. Short black hair fell messily across his forehead, half-covering his eyes. But those eyes...They were blind, marked by two thin, vertical scars slicing across them.
"Who blinded him?" Hector wondered, a chill crawling up his spine.
Before he could dwell on the thought, Kevin suddenly turned his head, directly toward him.
Then, slowly, Kevin's right eye creaked open.
A golden pupil shone through, inscribed with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with some eerie power.
Kevin opened his mouth. His voice was calm.
"So... you're from the Lyder Clan? And you already know I'm looking for them."
Ting!
Kevin seemed momentarily dazed, but he quickly regained his composure.
"Take it."
With a flick of his hand, a shabby coin, crafted from silver and some unknown alloy, whizzed through the air toward Hector.
Hector caught it, his face a mix of confusion and curiosity. He stared at the object in his hand, then looked back at Kevin, eyes wide with unspoken questions.
The coin felt... almost like a tracker. Hector had a gut feeling. They would meet again.
Kevin turned and prepared to walk toward the center of the arena.
"We'll talk after this challenge is over," he said flatly. "Don't even think about running. I saved your life, and I can take it just as easily."
"Sure! Definitely!"
Faced with the cold threat, Hector scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"Uh, hey! I've got some info. I want a deal, too."
At that, a flicker of surprise and amusement crossed Kevin's eyes.
"I'm listening," he said, his tone slower now.
A half hour later, Hector finally let out a long breath. His muscles relaxed as he leaned back against the cold arena wall.
"Damn… he's something else," Hector thought.
"But that difference... it's what saved me. It's a gamble. The novel's plot has changed... but only on the surface. What really matters is still there: the core storyline. And the protagonist's motivation... That's everything. That's what drives him to reach the end. So, his goal is to find my clan. I still don't know exactly why, or what he's really after, but if he keeps bringing it up, it must matter. A lot."
"Fine. I'll handle it when the time comes."
Hector glanced at the coin one last time before slipping it carefully into his pack.
The King scanned the arena with sharp eyes. Most of the fighters had recovered by now, except for a few weaker ones still sprawled on the ground.
"It's the least I can do for my slaves," he muttered, nodding slightly.
Then, suddenly, his voice thundered across the arena.
"Break time's over!"
"Time to entertain me again! Hahaha!"
His crazed eyes locked onto a shadowy corner of the arena. His tone dropped into something twisted, something disturbingly intimate.
"My favorite pet!"
The ground trembled again.
No one flinched this time. They had been waiting for it. They all knew what was coming: the final battle.
But when the smoke began to clear, their resolve shattered.
One by one, they stared—frozen. Faces drained of color. Despair was creeping into every corner of their being.
A hulking orc collapsed to its knees, pounding the ground in fury.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" it bellowed in its deep, guttural voice.
Then a man shouted, wild with panic.
"Hey! You fucking bald bastard! Is this your idea of a challenge?! Trying to kill us all now?!"
More voices joined in—anger, fear, curses flying through the air. They weren't just fighting back.
They were breaking.
And they weren't wrong.
They knew it.
They were going to die.
But the King didn't want them to die fast. He wanted them broken first.
He grinned, sick with pleasure, and ignored their rage. Instead, his eyes turned, affectionate and deranged, toward the monster.
In the chaos, Hector's reaction stood out.
"That's just great," he muttered, his voice tight with panic. "My brain is not ready for this."
But even as fear crept in, he wasn't paralyzed.
"That beast... it's meant for him."
Hector's eyes darted around, searching for a place to hide.
And like a cunning little rat, he ran. Again.
As the last wisps of smoke faded, the creature came into full view.
It was a giant grey wolf—the size of a truck.
At first glance, it didn't look much different from the lion-like beast they had fought earlier. It even looked normal.
But then they felt it.
The mana.
It was suffocating.
That wolf had reached the Novice level.
And none of them—not a single one—was strong enough to beat it.
After all, the first challenge was meant for newbies who had not mana yet.
This wasn't just a fight. It was an execution.