The scene snapped back to the arena floor. Dust drifted where two adventurers lay sprawled and unconscious, their weapons scattered — opponents from the competition, nothing more.
Leo, still masked, lowered his hands. "Ahh… you shouldn't let your guard down, Zama."
Across from him, Zama caught his breath, shoulders tight. "I'm sorry, Lord Leo…"
Leo scratched the back of his head, his voice calm. "No, it's alright. I was just telling you, that's all."
He glanced up, eyes drifting toward the royal box above the arena. Now… what is he thinking? Everything depends on that.
Up there, behind a glass wall, the King wasn't watching them. He stood by the window, gaze fixed on the sky as though waiting for something.
"What's he doing?" Leo muttered under his breath.
Zama started to speak. "Lord Le—"
He never finished.
A black force erupted in the arena, swallowing the platform whole. In a blink, Leo and Zama were cut off from the cheering crowd, entombed inside a shimmering sphere of shadow.
Leo's muscles locked. "W–wait… what's this—?" But his mouth made no sound. His body froze, breath stilled, even his magic locked in place. Only his mind still raced.
It's like time itself has stopped… but imperfectly. Whoever cast this is powerful but not a master. Who the hell did this?
Beside him, Zama's thoughts whirled. I… I can't move. I have to move for Lord Leo's sake! He strained uselessly, teeth clenched.
A voice curled through the stillness, soft and mocking. "My, my… seems the young contestants have stumbled into something far bigger than their match."
A woman stepped into the frozen arena as if walking through a curtain. She alone moved freely, her figure cutting across the black field.
Leo's mind snapped to her. A woman's voice… she must be the one holding this domain. She didn't stop time for herself.
She tilted her head at him, instantly reading the difference between Leo's steady gaze and Zama's futile struggling. She walked right up to Leo, fingers brushing the edge of his mask.
"What a beautiful young man," she said with a sly smile. "Let me introduce myself. Dyna Garcia. Underworld. One of the Sinners — the strongest assassin team there is."
Leo's heart hammered. Assassins? Here? Are they after me? The King? Why now?
Dyna leaned closer, fingertips ready to peel away the mask. "And such a lovely mask… shall we see the face beneath?"
N–no! Someone stop her. I can't let my face be revealed now!
Her fingers slipped under the edge —
A bolt of golden power slashed down from above, tearing into the sphere. Dyna hissed and leapt back, eyes narrowing.
"Tch… seems we'll have to deal with the King first," she spat.
High above, in the viewing room, the King stood now at the open balcony, golden light radiating from his hands. His voice rolled across the arena like thunder.
"You've got nerve," he roared. "I won't let you or your masters strike at my kingdom while I still breathe."
And behind him, stepping out of the shadows of the royal box, appeared two more figures: a massive man whose presence crushed the air and a small girl playing idly with a puppet, eyes glinting like knives. They were the same Sinners who had entered with Dyna — assassins sent by the Holy Empire of Luminael.
All three turned their murderous gazes on the King as the golden light swelled around him.
While From the upper balcony, boots hammered against stone. A squad of knights and a few of the remaining adventurers rushed in, steel drawn, cloaks snapping in the disturbed air.
One knight stepped forward, visor glinting. "Hey! You two—stop right there! You're under arrest!"
Up on the balcony, the King's voice cut through like a blade. "Stay back! Don't come here!" His tone held no doubt. He knew exactly what these three were.
The big man's lips twisted into a grin. "Nena… play with the brats. I'll go catch that king bastard." With a single leap he vaulted the railing, a massive shadow plunging toward the royal box.
Below, one of the adventurers hesitated, then stepped toward the small girl clutching a puppet. "Hey… little one. We know they forced you. You don't have to stay with them."
"Are you insane?!" a knight hissed, reaching out to pull him back. "Don't go near—"
Too late.
Nena turned her head slowly. She was smiling — but not the shy, harmless smile of a child. It was something hollow and bright, a predator's grin framed by a child's face.
The puppet in her hands began to swell, its seams tearing open, fabric splitting into chitin. A grotesque mouth yawned wide, lined with jagged teeth.
The adventurer had only time to gasp before the puppet lunged, swallowing him whole in one wet snap. When it withdrew, it was small again, resting innocently in Nena's hands.
For a heartbeat no one moved.
Then panic broke loose. A handful of adventurers bolted for the exits, shoving each other in blind terror. The knights held their ground, weapons up, eyes flicking between the girl and the bloody smear where the man had stood.
One knight barked a command and charged. Another followed.
They never reached her.
A blur of motion — and then heads tumbled from shoulders, helmets clattering across marble. Blood fanned out across the tiles as their bodies dropped like dolls, swords slipping from limp hands.
In the center of the carnage, Nena sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling softly. She cradled her puppet, stroking its fabric head, and began to make it dance as if nothing at all had happened.
Above the arena the King hovered effortlessly, cloak rippling in the dawn air. Below him the massive assassin launched from pillar to pillar, using the rooftop's edge as springboards to build speed. Every time he struck, his impact cracked stone and sent dust pluming into the sky.
The King slipped between the lunges like a shadow. He hadn't even drawn his weapon yet. His eyes tracked the man's movements, cool and calculating.
He's deliberately staying out of Dyna's domain, the King thought, watching the assassin's footwork. Smart… and now you'll try for my face.
A heartbeat later the big man blurred upward, a hammering fist streaking straight for the King's head.
The King tilted aside, letting the punch tear through empty air, then spun and slammed his palm into the man's crown. A flash of force burst outward. The assassin's body became a comet, smashing through the arena's outer wall and streaking toward the waking city.
Outside, morning light was just spilling across the cobblestones. Merchants were opening shutters, children still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
Then—impact.
The huge man cratered into the street in an explosion of dust and shattered paving stones. Screams echoed as people scattered, carts overturning.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, brushing debris from his shoulders. Blood trailed from the corner of his mouth, but a grin split his face.
"King Baddie…" he spat the name like a joke, rolling his neck until it cracked. "…seems angry."
He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, eyes gleaming with excitement as he squared himself for another round.