Time blurred again.
Was it day?
Was it night?
I didn't know.
How much time had passed?
Weeks?
Months?
I didn't know.
Being called to the arena for another fight was the only way to guess the time.
One fight.
Two fights.
Three fights.
...
Five fights.
—
It didn't take long before I lost count of those, too.
Injuries piled up with every battle, then half-healed in the breaks between.
The constant battles made me slowly lose my mind.
Different beasts.
Some big.
Some small.
Some alone.
Some in groups.
But they all shared the same thing.
A single desire.
To kill me.
But—
I never did.
I survived.
Again.
And again.
Battle after battle.
One beast after another.
Giving my all in every fight.
Because—
I didn't want to die.
And during the day—
I trained.
The fourth stage.
At least there was something new to focus on.
But in the end…
I still didn't know.
When would I leave this place?
How much longer did I have to struggle?
Would I ever leave?
Until when would my tomorrow continue?
It stood still.
Our gazes locked.
A few meters of sand separated me from the beast.
Its body was thin—too thin. But the muscles bulging beneath that narrow frame told the truth.
It wasn't weak.
The beast was tall.
About two meters in height.
And long.
Its spine bent in an unnatural curve, its torso stretching on and on, ending in a small tail that twitched behind it.
Sharp claws decorated its paws, digging into the sand. They looked less like claws and more like knives. Its snout was long and narrow like the rest of it, filled with rows of jagged teeth.
Drip.
Blood ran down its side. Small cuts and deep gashes covered its body.
I had slashed and stabbed it again and again, but it only amounted to so much.
Its white eyes stayed locked on me.
They seemed hollow, even dull.
No thought.
No anger.
No fear.
Just hunger.
Saliva dripped from its jaw in slow drops, each one darkening the sand where it landed.
The crowd called it Ravager.
At first, I thought it was some kind of strange wolf—its build was similar.
But the differences were obvious.
Not just that it was alone.
It also had no fur.
Only thick, blackened skin covered its body. There was also its strange build. The thin limbs but long body.
All in all, it looked like a grotesque being coming straight out of a nightmare.
The fight hadn't started well for me.
The Ravager had lunged the moment it entered, giving me no room to breathe. Its attacks were simple, yes—but deadly. One swipe of its claws had nearly cut my entire arm off.
But as dangerous as it was…
There was one good thing.
The beast was stupid.
It wasn't like the wolves—watching, waiting, planning before they moved. No, this one just blindly attacks whenever it can.
That gave me a lot of trouble, but let me land a few hits as well.
Haah.
Right now, I had created some distance after its last attack and was waiting.
The moment I took a breath—
It attacked again.
Its long body shot forward in a straight line.
No warning.
No hesitation.
Thud.
Claws tore through sand where I'd been a heartbeat ago.
Step.
I sidestepped, barely dodging its sharp claws.
My next movement was like a continuous flow. Twisting my torso after landing my foot and pushing my shoulder forward, the sword follows.
Slrrsh.
The wound was shallow but cut at the right spot, the connection between its torso and front leg. Bits of dark red blood sprayed onto the ground.
The Ravager didn't scream.
Didn't shriek.
Graa.
Just a low, ugly grumble left it.
Then it attacked again.
Its feet shifted in the sand, spine twisting unnaturally, until it faced me again. Raising its leg, it delivered another strike with its claws.
Thud.
Step.
But I was already gone.
A sidestep was enough.
The fight had flowed at the same tempo for some time now, becoming almost repetitive to me.
It attacked with its claws.
I sidestepped.
My sword cut into its flesh.
Again.
And again.
It was always the same.
The beast didn't change its strategy even once and only blindly attacked the spot where I stood.
It was even starting to bore me.
But I didn't rush.
I didn't take any risks.
If a gap didn't open, I retreated further instead of forcing something.
Only patience.
The fight against the Frostwolves had taught me to never grow complacent.
One mistake could end my life.
And the pain from that bite still lingered in my shoulder as a silent reminder of that.
The crowd's cheers had long faded, and only the sound of battle remained in the arena.
Thud.
Step.
Slrrsh.
The battle continued at the same pace.
Sometimes the beast would react with its reflexes to my dodges and send another claw right after me, but I only took one more step back.
My eyes focused on the beast's shoulders. The small twitch of its muscles signaled another attack.
Step.
Slrrsh.
Another red line opened along its left front leg. I tried to focus most of my attacks around there, slowly taking away its mobility. With each new wound, it became a bit slower.
It charged again.
Over and over, the same exchange repeated—lunge, evade, cut.
Swoosh.
The Ravager charged again, raising both front legs and aiming its claws at my chest.
But—
Step.
Now I took only half a step to the side, just enough to dodge his right claw. My sword glowed crimson as I swung in a wide arc at the other leg, aiming for the upper part of it.
And—
SLRRSH.
My sword cut through flesh and bone at the same time, cleanly cutting its leg off.
Thud.
Blood splashed across my face as the severed limb flew through the air before landing in the sand. The beast couldn't hold its balance, its legs too thin to hold its weight. It stumbled before falling face-first onto the ground.
Thud.
A shriek finally tore from its throat as it clawed at the sand, trying to rise.
And it would.
Step.
If not for me.
I approached from the side with steady steps until I stood right next to it. My sword lifted, blade aimed at its neck.
Its limbs thrashed around while its head snapped at air, teeth closing on nothing.
A crimson hue surrounded my sword, one far more intense than before.
I pushed my sword down.
Shing.
The blade cut through flesh, then bone, then flesh again, while the beast let out its last cry.
And—
Thud.
Its head hit the ground with a dull sound. The rest of its body followed soon after. Blood sprayed from the neck, painting everything around it red.
Haah.
I exhaled, realizing only then that I'd been holding my breath, and swung my sword at the empty air, getting the blood off my blade.
My chest rose and fell steadily as I stood over the corpse.
It was over.
It hadn't been hard, but I was more exhausted than I expected. The constant near-death dodges had taken a toll on my mind.
I gave the corpse one last glance, then turned away.
The arena was silent.
There were no cheers for my victory.
A few claps echoed from the stands from the people still watching. The others had already turned, occupied with different matters.
That wasn't new.
It had started a few fights ago.
The crowd that used to roar for every victory had begun to quiet with each one I added.
Having seen enough, I turned my head toward the podium.
John was already there. His gaze cut through the stands, sharp and patient. Whatever expression he wore behind that mask remained unknown.
The crowd reacted instantly. Conversations died. Coins stopped changing hands. Slowly, their heads turned toward him one after another.
John waited, unmoving, until all attention belonged to him again.
Then he spoke.
"The beast had fallen."
His voice was calm, controlled, red eyes never leaving the crowd.
"A battle ends."
For a moment, his gaze shifted toward me before returning to the crowd.
"And once again… the warrior remains standing."
He continued smoothly,
A few cheers rose.
But they died down quickly as no others followed.
John paused, tilting his head slightly, at their cheers.
He spread his arms wide as he continued.
"How many victories has it been now?"
"How many beasts have fallen?"
"How many times has death reached for him… and been denied?"
His voice remained steady.
"I would even say… he seems to have taken a liking to the lowest place."
A few chuckles rippled through the stands.
His gaze returned to me.
His hand gestured to the crowd, his voice rising with each sentence.
"You've bled for them."
"You've endured."
"They watch you."
"They wager on you."
"They cheer for you."
Then he gestured toward me again.
"Do you have nothing to say to them?"
The crowd waited in anticipation, some even leaned forward.
John stared down at me.
Our gazes met.
The white mask.
That curved red smile drawn on it.
The red eyes behind it.
He was waiting for something.
Defiance.
Gratitude.
Maybe even anger.
Anything to feed the crowd.
Seconds passed as his gaze bore further down on me.
My chest rose and fell, still uneven after the battle.
Exhaustion clung heavily to my body.
I felt the weight of every eye in the arena on me.
Then—
Step.
I turned around.
Away from him.
I didn't answer.
Step.
And simply walked away.
Step.
Toward the gate.
Step.
It wasn't defiance.
I wasn't angry.
I just didn't care.
Instead of spending a moment longer in this arena, I would rather go back to my cell and sleep.
Step.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Only my footsteps resounded in this silence.
Then—
Laughter.
One person began, and the others chimed in.
Growing louder with each second.
"He's walking away?"
"Nothing? Not even one word?"
"He just ignores him?"
Their mocking laughter continued. Some clapped like it was a joke. Others cheered as if it were part of the show.
Then—
"The lowest warrior!"
Someone shouted.
Another voice joined in, louder.
"The lowest warrior!"
It spread, gaining momentum, repeating until it became a chant.
The gate opened, and as I walked out—
"THE LOWEST WARRIOR!"