Ark'shaRin's eyes bulged in their sockets as pain shot through its entire body, causing it to convulse violently, which was strange—no, unheard of—as this was the first time in a long while the Sea Deity had been harmed by a mere attack.
'What the hell is this attack, why does it hurt so much… Aren't I supposed to be healed already?'
Ark'shaRin's head bashed onto the backrest of his throne, the impact cracking the coral-like structure, allowing him to finally see Steven clearly—the man standing firm in a combat stance, a special type of dagger clenched tightly in his grasp, one crafted from a material the Sea Deity had no knowledge of, nor any memory of encountering before.
"How…?" Ark'shaRin managed to mutter, its voice far lower than it usually used, hoarse and unstable, clearly showing how fast its life was being drained from it.
Steven sighed, his face twitching painfully beneath the empty sockets where his eyes once were. "I was never under the effect of your puppet skill in the first place. For one, I have never eaten any part of your body, which is your so-called blessing, and another—I'm not even the original owner of this body."
Ark'shaRin's gaze grew wide in realization, terror finally seeping into its divine pupils, but it did not say a word. Its expression turned paler and more lifeless as the endless blood-loss effect of the dagger took hold, refusing to allow regeneration.
"During my time running mad in the hellish cells of the Colosseum, I realized the only way of getting out of this place was actually killing you—which would be an easier task than killing your champion." Steven's mind trailed for a moment to his own sponsor before snapping back. "Deities are proud. You believe too much in your own strength. And that was when I realized killing you wouldn't be that hard to orchestrate, as long as I played my cards well! You believed you could puppet every single thing that came your way like some kind of sick object, and that's where your downfall came from—the scum interpretation of those who think they are higher, believing they can pull off anything and get away with it."
Steven snarled, "Pathetic!"
He took a step forward, his boot sinking into the obese body of the Sea Deity. He walked up its soft, quivering flesh until he reached its chest, then knelt down, shoving his knees hard into the body of the Deity, forcing a pained tremor from it.
Raising his dagger for them both to see, he lifted it high and lodged it into the throat of the Sea Deity again, this time stabbing much deeper. Ark'shaRin's eyes grew impossibly wide, the pain far too unbearable for the Deity to brace against.
It shrieked, its jaws trembling uncontrollably as golden blood poured endlessly from both the wound and its mouth, spilling across the throne and pooling beneath its body.
Getting defeated by a human—outsmarted, manipulated, and made to underestimate him—this was the single most disgraceful defeat Ark'shaRin had ever faced in its long existence. Its eyes watched hopelessly as the dagger was raised once more, and plunged into its throat again, striking it with a stale, undeniable truth.
The dagger Steven used against it was a dagger crafted from another Deity. A cruel irony, as a Deity could only be truly harmed by the weapon of another Deity.
Seeing this—no, understanding this—proved to the god just how crude, how vile, and how dangerous this human truly was.
Steven did not falter, raising his dagger yet again and again, stabbing it repeatedly into the body of Ark'shaRin, creating multiple fatal injuries. With each strike, the jerks and widening eyes of the Deity grew weaker, more sluggish, until they were barely there.
"This is how it feels!" Steven roared. "Being butchered like a dog!"
Continuing the consistent, ruthless stabs, Steven screamed, his muscles tensing as adrenaline surged through his entire body. Memories of both Rat's suffering in the Colosseum—and his own—burned violently into his mind. This was deserved revenge, and he exacted it perfectly.
After a while of continuous, savage stabs, a notification finally sprang before Steven's eyes.
{Ding}
{Congratulations: You have killed the Sea Deity Ark'shaRin}
{Congratulations: You have completed 2/3 conditions to escape the Realm}
At this moment, Steven stopped. His grasp around the dagger loosened, his fingers trembling from the insurmountable stress of the relentless stabs. His body ached in fierce protest, screaming for rest.
But it wasn't over. Not just yet.
{Effect of the Puppeteer String has dissolved}
Just on time, the effects—as predicted—from the Sea Deity's ability had died down with it, leaving everyone with the ability to move once more.
Steven rose slowly from his crouch, turning around as his face scanned through the expressions of the Lords and elders—some stepping back in horror, others clutching their hair as the realization of Ark'shaRin's death finally settled into their minds.
Then there were the guards. All of them stood unmoving, unsure whether to keep fighting or not against Drake. Steven didn't bother to look much at his companion, but he made sure his eyes settled firmly on the masses.
And somehow, Steven was strangely bewildered by what he saw.
The bodies of all the Lords in front of him, the guards, and probably even the masses too far away for him to properly see, were turning scrawny. The fat that was originally there—along with the health the flesh of the Deity had once given them—quickly disappeared, leaving behind nothing more than flabby, folding skin all over their faces, arms, and other parts of their bodies he couldn't see.
Now, no one looked any better than him.
Actually, all except the handsome Marked—Drake—who still seemed to retain his dashing good looks and natural charisma.
But just like him, everyone else was now scrawny.
A grin slowly formed on Steven's countenance at this occurrence, and he couldn't help but laugh. At this mocking gesture, the attention of the entire Colosseum snapped toward him.
"Pitiful, really," Steven began, glowering at the masses. "So who's going to be your next shitty ruler?"
The entire Colosseum remained silent in response to Steven's taunting, no words spoken as the shock of Ark'shaRin's death still loomed heavily over them.
But as realization slowly began to settle into their hearts, one word Steven had mentioned—probably by mistake, or maybe on purpose—echoed loudly in their minds.
It was the word rule.
Now that Ark'shaRin was dead, the space for a new ruler to govern all of Hirim Village stood prominently in the minds of all the Lords and elders.
They shared the same thought, their eyes shifting toward Ark'shaRin's corpse with lustful, greedy glares.
However, they were not the only ones who had gotten that idea.
A mighty uproar erupted from below, and from the audience the masses began to rush forward—hundreds, no… thousands of scrawny villagers surging toward the upper podium, all with greedy intent burning in their eyes as they hurried toward Ark'shaRin's corpse.
Seeing this, the Lords and elders dropped their pride, hurrying forward to reach the corpse first. The guards dropped their weapons entirely, the spirit of dread settling deep into their eyes as they scrambled to claim their own share of the Deity's corpse. Soon, the masses joined in fully, chaos erupting—a riot born from Steven's actions, one that would likely end with countless deaths.
Steven began to withdraw himself from the brewing trouble, his hopes of escaping the Colosseum reignited in his heart. With the monarchy destroyed, there was no one left who could stop him.
Ding!
The system notification sound crossed his ears.
His eyes turned to read the message, his face instantly turning pale. His knees buckled, and by instinct his gaze dropped down toward the arena—toward its towering walls.