Gregorian Empire, Province of Numidia.
Port City of Cartag - 11:25 A.M.
The three Infernal Hounds charged the instant they saw me.One went left, one right, the last straight for my blind spot.Their jaws snapped just centimeters from my flesh, saliva sizzling like acid.
I struck them in sequence—left hook, right uppercut, backward kick.
Each hound burst like a sack of blood, spraying me in a rain of green gore. My clothes dripped with it.
I dashed toward the straggling Goblings still crawling about and crushed their skulls like grapes.
On the CI-Mask display, I forced an angry emoji to appear.Then another track, the one stuck in my head, began to play.
I walked to the center of the arena, flipping the crowd off as I danced again.
—"Is that all you've got, you bastards!?"
The silence that followed was glorious—stunned, suffocating silence.
The crowd couldn't wrap their heads around it.
—"Impossible! No damn slave is that strong!"
—"Another round! That slave must die!"
—"Another fight, another fight, another fight!"
For a full minute they chanted, demanding blood.The Announcer obliged:
This time, four massive, spotted beasts—Leopard Bears.
Their cages rattled. When released, they charged at once.
But just like the hounds, they didn't last.
The first—I intercepted head-on. Hands clapped around its skull like a sandwich. Its brains splattered instantly.
The second and third fell to my feet—one I kicked skyward like a soccer ball, and it exploded before even rising. The other I kicked sideways, tearing straight through it.
The last, I grabbed by a leg and hurled at the stands. It slammed into what must've been a magical barrier, leaving nothing but a spectacular smear of blood.
The crowd erupted in outrage:
—"Release the Troll!!"
And moments later, it came.
From a gate emerged a colossal cage, runes glowing, steel thick as stone.A monster—level 900—wielding a hammer big enough to crush towers.
I grinned and cracked my knuckles.
Its steps shook the entire arena. The ground was already a swamp of blood. This was perfect.
I sprinted forward. The Troll swung with brutal force.I slipped past it—nothing compared to an Indominus.
The Player's Soul trait might screw with my emotions, but my focus, my processing? Unmatched.
I got behind it. It turned. I seized its thigh, dug into its fat with such strength I tore the flesh, then used the mud for leverage—
A suplex.
The Troll's skull cratered into the earth.
Again—silence.
I flipped them off once more and roared through the voice modulator:
—"This is NOTHING, assholes!"
But the crowd wasn't done. They screamed in unison:
—"Release the Jundurs!! He must die!"
From the largest cages yet, two horrors slithered out. Bigger than the Troll.
Colossal serpents.
Their status read Jundurs.But I knew exactly what they were—Titanoboas. Extinct in my world. Alive here in this cursed game.
Heavy. Towering. And shockingly fast.
But I was done with this tedious slaughter.
One punch each—two heads blown clean off.
Silence. Absolute, ringing silence filled the amphitheater.
Satisfaction warmed my chest.So I celebrated—just like before, with music and dance.
But this time it was different.
A dance I'd created back in middle school, while studying in Japan. The music wasn't real—just imagined.
Through the mask, my robotic voice taunted the crowd:
—"YOU'VE JUST BEEN A-BU-SED!"
I basked in the arrogance, the pure ego of it—then left.I'd already qualified for tomorrow's tournament.
***
Many in the audience were perplexed, frightened, and faintly thrilled.
Yet among the crowd, there were some who recognized that strange stigma from afar. That young man belonged to someone from the Kingdom of Lichstein.
But for the slaves who watched that gladiator, it was something different. That strange dance... that catchy, alien rhythm... and that damned irreverence toward the audience drew a genuine smile from them.
Together with the image of an invincible slave he had built around himself, it stirred in a particular portion of the crowd an extreme disgust and visceral hatred for such arrogant behavior.
Now they only wished for him to die in the most horrible way possible in tomorrow's tournament. Soon a large part of the audience began hurling insults at him: clown, fool, joke of a gladiator, and more.
Galio, shocked at having underestimated that slave, spoke with a tone of both expectation and resignation:
Announcer:— «Ladies and gentlemen... Today we have just witnessed... what I believe will be... a new variable in tomorrow's tournament... presenting to you... the warrior who crushes his rivals so overwhelmingly... The Abuser!»
The masked man suddenly left the arena, while other slaves and gladiators entered to continue the preliminary round.
But as the fights unfolded, and the public watched the deaths of those gladiators, they began to speculate about this stranger who had so easily defeated such beasts.
And in a way, they became even more eager to witness his death in tomorrow's tournament.
***
I left the Coliseum... but my clothes were soaked in green blood.
As I began to undress, without yet removing the CI-Mask, I was interrupted by Galio.
When I saw him, I asked:
—"What are you doing here? Weren't you announcing the fights?"
Galio:— "Someone else is replacing me." (Seriously, is he a slave? Could he be an infiltrator? But that way of dancing... it resembled Gat's.)
After answering my question, Galio made a slight bow and offered me an apology, saying:
Galio:— "I'm sorry, kid, but the ticket you gave me was only the proof for the preliminaries... the real invitation is a letter like this."
When I saw the golden envelope, I understood that Clato had not truly been invited, but had only been given that ticket to test his luck in the preliminaries.
—"So... I qualified?"
Galio:— "Of course. Rules are rules... the first round begins tomorrow at noon."
—"Thank you, Galio."
Galio:—"Thank you... you're good at entertaining and shocking the audience."
—"What can I say?... I've got a talent for entertaining."
Galio:— "You'd better keep wearing that mask, or whatever it is... I'm telling you this as a favor."
—"I understand..."
Galio:— "You know, a lot of important people will be participating, and among them is the Mercenary King."
—"Don't tell me... Hey, before I go... my real name is—"
Galio:— "Wait, don't tell me... For your safety and mine, say nothing."
—"Okay... see you, Galio."
Galio:—"See you tomorrow at the tournament, Abuser." (Don't die... You're different from Gat... Don't die.)