Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, hitting Jack's face with intensity.
He groaned, shielding his eyes as he sat up. The bed was softer than anything he had slept on in his simulation of the slums, but his body felt heavy.
Before he could even stretch, a notification window materialised inches from his nose, pulsing with a sinister red border.
The system.
[WARNING: HUNGER LEVELS CRITICAL.]
[If you do not devour something in 36 hours, you will die.]
Jack stared at the message, his heart skipping a beat. This damned countdown.
"You're finally awake," a deep voice rumbled from the corner of the room.
Jack turned to see a large Klein sitting on a wooden chair, his massive frame making the furniture look like a toy.
He was reading a newspaper, his face obscured by the bold headline: A NEW LAND TO BE CONQUERED?
Jack rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the dizziness. "Where's everyone else?"
"Stiles left already to secure our seats. The others left before him," Klein said, lowering the paper. He looked Jack over with an unreadable expression. "You slept the whole way back to Murica, too. You must have been stabbed by a Sloth beast or something."
It was clearly a joke, but the large man never smiled. His eyes remained cold, calculating.
Jack forced a chuckle. "Maybe. I just feel drained."
"That happens," Klein muttered, folding the newspaper. "Especially with the energy in this city. Everyone is buzzing for the Trial today."
Jack remembered Tom mentioning the Conqueror selection. He swung his legs off the bed. "Tom said he was participating. Is it… difficult?"
"Difficult?" Klein scoffed. "People die, kid. That's why Selene isn't watching from the front row. She kinda hates these things."
"Why?" Jack asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Is she against the violence?"
Klein paused, his gaze hardening. "No. This is a great honour to further expand human lands. It's because watching it reminds her of what she lost. Selene was a failed Conqueror."
Jack blinked. "Failed? Can't she just try again?"
"That's not how it works. The Selection Trial isn't a game," Klein stood up, the chair creaking in relief. "Several conquerors can get into a selection trial, but you lose your right to challenge a real land's trial ever again if you fail to conquer the Land. In some cases, failure means death. In Selene's case, she was just… exited. Forcefully."
"Oh," Jack whispered. It explained the melancholy he sometimes sensed around the healer. "Why did she fail? Was it—"
Before Jack could finish the sentence, Klein crossed the room in two strides. He grabbed Jack by the collar of his borrowed shirt and pinned him against the wall. It wasn't violent enough to hurt, but the pressure was immense.
Jack stared up into the eyes of a veteran hunter.
"What are your plans after leaving?" Klein asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Jack swallowed hard, his pulse hammering against his neck. "I… I just want to get a job. Save up some money. Live a quiet life, if possible."
Klein stared at him for a long, agonising second, searching for a lie. Jack held his gaze, channelling the apathy he had learned from a hundred deaths.
Finally, Klein let go, smoothing out Jack's shirt with his large hands.
"I know you're hiding something, kid. But sure then," Klein said, turning toward the door. "Get dressed. We're going to the Arena."
***
The Colosseum of Murica was an architectural marvel that seemed to defy gravity. It was a massive bowl of white stone and reinforced steel, suspended over a natural crater in the city centre.
Klein led Jack up the winding stairs to the Pinnacle—the highest seating area reserved for Top Dogs and VIPs.
The noise hit Jack first. A roar like a tidal wave, coming from fifty thousand throats screaming in unison. The air smelled of roasted meat, sweat, and anticipation.
Below them lay the arena floor—a vast expanse of sand dotted with artificial obstacles. Rocks, pools of water, and metal pillars could be seen.
"Over here!" Selene waved from a section of seats near the railing.
Jack squeezed past other spectators to sit between Jane and Selene. Stiles was there too, leaning on his sword as he looked ahead, while Klein took the seat behind them like a bodyguard.
"Where's Tom?" Jack asked, looking around.
"Down there," Jane pointed to the iron gates at the northern end of the sands. "Waiting in the pit."
Jack looked around the stadium. To the south, towering over the common seats, was a raised platform draped in velvet and silk.
Sitting on a throne of obsidian was a man in black and gold attire. A heavy crown rested on his head, gleaming under the dual suns. Beside him sat a woman in matching royal robes, though she wore no crown.
They were surrounded by guards adorned in heavy plate armour, holding spears that hummed with faint blue energy.
Behind the guards stood a row of figures in dark cloaks, holding staves and orbs.
"Mages, cool," Jack whispered, leaning forward.
Jane gave him a side-eye, her expression dripping with condescension. "Those are Runic Sorcerers, like Selene and me. 'Mage' is a slang term for street performers. Anyone can be a Runic Sorcerer if they study."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Jack said quickly. He shrank back into his seat. He still didn't know what he had said to offend her yesterday, and he didn't want to make it worse.
Suddenly, a magical projection appeared in the centre of the arena—a giant hologram of the man in the crown.
"CITIZENS OF MURICA!" The Announcer's voice boomed from hidden speakers, shaking the very stones of the arena.
The crowd went wild.
"Today, we witness the birth of new legends! Or the spilling of fresh blood!" The Announcer laughed, a sound that was more maniacal than joyous. "Let us honour our Lord, the Top Conqueror of the Dry Lands, King Harris, and his Wife, Queen Ariana!"
The King raised a hand lazily. The crowd screamed his name.
"Now, to the rules!" The Announcer continued. "The Trial of Conquerors this year has over 50 participants! A sad turnout, honestly. But only three…yes, only three will become Conquerors at the end!"
Jack frowned. Fifty people for three spots is a crazy cut.
"So, we'll definitely see a lot of deaths and several limbs flying off today!" The Announcer chuckled casually, as if discussing the weather. "Several Three-Star Beasts will be released in the arena. The first three participants to kill one beast and survive in time will qualify to become a Conqueror! It is that simple!"
The projection zoomed in on the gates where the monsters were held.
"The participants can choose to work together or kill each other to lower the competition! We don't care! That just makes it more fun!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, stomping their feet until the stadium shook.
"What the heck?" Jack exclaimed, the blood draining from his face.
The group turned to look at him, confused by his outburst.
Jack wanted to keep quiet, to blend in, but the sheer insanity of it forced the words out. "What if Tom dies? Is there no better way of testing people? I thought it would be some step-by-step faceoff, but this is just barbaric. This is a massacre."
Selene looked at him, a sad but accepting smile on her face. "I think that's the most I've heard you speak, Jack. But you might want to quiet down, kid. This is Murica. Death fighting beasts is the greatest honour one could have."
Jack's eyes widened. He looked at the cheering faces, the hungry eyes of the spectators.
'These people are crazy,' he thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. 'This is some Valhalla shit.'
As the horror of the situation settled in, a familiar chime rang in his ears. The world seemed to slow down as a blue window popped up, obscuring his view of the arena.
[NEW QUEST: SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST]
Objective: Participate in the Conqueror Trial and become a Conqueror.
Reward: +3 stats.
Penalty for Failure: -20 hours to Hunger Countdown.
[ADDITIONAL REWARD: Devour the Beasts to get stronger.]
Jack stared at the text, his breath hitching in his throat.
'Penalty: -20 hours.'
He had 36 hours left. If he failed this quest, he would lose 20 hours immediately. That would leave him with… almost nothing. He would starve to death before tomorrow morning.
Jack panicked. His hands gripped the stone railing until his knuckles turned white.
This System… it had saved him in the desert, yes. But now? Now it was holding a gun to his head. It was forcing him into this barbaric slaughterhouse.
The Scientists. Even dead, their creation was dictating his life.
"Even after your death, I'm still not free from your experiments," he muttered, his fear curdling into a cold, hard rage. He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw bunching up.
He stood up abruptly.
Jane, who was watching the arena, glanced up at him. "Where are you going? The bathroom is the other way."
Jack looked down at the arena, at several doomed souls walking out onto the sand. He looked at the locked gates where monsters waited.
"I'm going down there to participate in this stupid tournament."
Everyone's heads turned. Klein, Stiles, Selene, and Jane stared at him in stunned silence.
The boy who had been trembling at a headline five minutes ago was now walking toward the stairs of the death pit.
Klein smiled and thought, 'I hope you get to show me something interesting, boy.'
Jack had stood up, not looking back. But a figure stood in his path.
Stiles had appeared right in front of him.
'Did he use his skill?' Jack panicked because using mana meant he was trying to fight.