The presence of the Deity Ark'shaRin had once granted the people of Hirim village robust health and relief from the lack of food that had plagued their settlement for generations. Crops flourished, sickness waned, and the desperation that once clung to the village like rot was temporarily washed away.
But what followed only served to seal their fates.
Certainly, all man-made and exalted gods eventually proved to be nothing but scum in the end.
The Sea Deity had grown bored. It claimed that after all it had done for humanity—after sustaining them, shielding them, and feeding them—they had repaid it with nothing but trinkets it could conjure itself. Offerings of gold, flowers, and shallow prayers meant nothing to a being born of the endless abyss. Flowers were nothing compared to the coral gardens of the salty sea. Gold paled before the treasures buried beneath the waves.
And so, Ark'shaRin threatened to leave.
The village elders panicked. Desperation twisted their pride, and they fell to their knees before the deity, begging it to remain. They promised anything—everything—as long as it stayed.
That was the mistake that birthed the Colosseum.
A mistake whose consequences did not fall upon the elders or the heads who had made it, but upon the small folk. The poor. The starving. Many who could not even reach Ark'shaRin to beg for food, forced instead to buy or steal from merchants who sold the body of the Sea Deity itself. Flesh harvested from a god.
Those who refused to consume the body of such a monster survived on what little remained—rotting scraps, mold-infested rations, and discarded remains. They withered slowly.
Rat had been one of them.
The Sea God insisted upon gladiatorial combat, disguising the cruelty beneath a farce of generosity. It claimed the poor would be alleviated by fighting in tournaments within the Colosseum, rewarded with edible portions of divine flesh for their victory. That promise alone was enough to lure the desperate masses of Hirim village into participating.
Those who refused—despite the nerve-racking rewards—were simply kidnapped.
They were dragged from their homes, shackled, and thrown into hellish prison cells alongside those who had joined willingly. None of them understood the truth then.
They had made the gravest mistake of their lives.
Even now, two hundred years later, the people in the hellish prison were still those poor souls somehow gaining immortality from the presence of the Sea deity. Old men and women who had once begged for mercy now chased scraps of food tossed to them by a bored god. They entertained Ark'shaRin endlessly, all for what amounted to nothing more than a mustard seed of sustenance.
Steven frowned deeply.
"And for some reason," he muttered bitterly, "the cursed Realm finds it quite funny to send me to such a heinous place."
He bit down on his lip, thoughts spiraling as he wondered how he was expected to entertain his own sponsor while struggling just to survive this hellish Colosseum.
{Your sponsor revels in your confusion}
"Friggin' bastard!" Steven muttered under his breath.
The realization only worsened his mood. His sponsor was enjoying every second of his fear, his wariness, his unraveling sanity. The thought alone was unbearably demoralizing.
Thud!
A deafening sound echoed throughout the entire Colosseum—so loud, so authoritative, that it silenced the vicinity instantly. The roaring crowd fell dead quiet within seconds.
Steven's eyes snapped upward toward the highest seats of the Colosseum, where the sound had originated.
And there it was.
Seated lazily upon its throne, more bloated and grotesque than Rat's memories had conveyed, sat Ark'shaRin. The treacherous Sea Deity lounged in indulgence, watching the prisoners below with blatant amusement. In its grasp rested a golden staff—the same one it had struck against the stone to command silence.
It lingered there, savoring the stillness, pridefully reveling in the authority it wielded over thousands.
Finally, it spoke.
"Today," the deity boomed, its voice thunderous and heavy with divine arrogance, "we have another wonderful fight!"
The crowd erupted instantly, cheers crashing like waves against the stone walls. This was routine for them—conditioned excitement, rehearsed bloodlust.
Steven did not let the noise distract him.
His eyes remained locked onto the Sea Deity, studying its massive form with a single burning question echoing in his mind.
'How in hell am I supposed to escape the Fallen Realm of the Gods like this?'
No answer came. All he could do was stare.
{Ding}
{Title: Sea God Ark'shaRin}
{Status: Deity}
{Warning: Do not challenge this being}
{Congratulations: You have completed 1/3 conditions to escape the Realm}
Steven's eyes widened in shock as he read the system's notification.
He wasn't foolish enough to even consider attacking a deity—but seeing this warning only reinforced how carefully he would need to tread in this realm. One wrong move, one careless action, and he would be erased.
Now, thinking back to the moment before entering the Realm, Steven finally understood why the man who had briefed him had been so tense about the Realm of Entry.
But the time for reflection was over.
A loud clang echoed from the opposite wall of the Colosseum. The towering structure trembled violently as something struck it from the other side with terrifying force.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Steven gulped, his hands instinctively moving toward the daggers at his waist. His heart sank as the screams of the audience intensified. A heavy sense of foreboding washed over him—a feeling he recognized all too well.
"Get ready!" someone shouted nearby. "It's coming!"
Steven glanced to his right and spotted two other prisoners around his age, weapons clenched tightly in trembling hands. To his left were more—lowlife captives armed with crude, poorly maintained tools, desperation etched into their faces.
He hadn't even noticed them being brought in.
Did it matter now?
His teeth clenched as dread coiled tightly in his chest.
Then, just as panic threatened to overwhelm them, the wall reeled upward. A massive tunnel—twice the size of the ones they had entered through—opened with a grinding screech of stone and metal.
And from within it emerged a nightmare.
A massive creature stepped forward, resembling a distorted salamander wreathed in shadow. Its head was faceless, save for hundreds of jagged rows of teeth dripping with sizzling saliva. Its pitch-black body oozed a dense, malevolent aura that warped the air around it. Four slender limbs ended in razor-sharp claws, while a long tail—resembling a flexible spear—bristled with jagged spires and a wickedly sharp tip.
Steven held his breath, frozen in utter terror.
This monster—
This monster was a Shadow Eater.
{Title: Shadow Eater}
{Status: Dreadling}
{Warning: Do not challenge this being}