Chapter 133
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 133
Chapter Title: The Arena's Barbarian Warrior
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Everyone gathered in the dank underground and laughed heartily for a good while.
I didn't really know what was so funny, but it was a fun time nonetheless. Laughter releases endorphins. Even when there's nothing to laugh about, it's good to force a smile using the military laughter bells adopted by the national army.
"Whew! You guys sure know how to crack a smile? Real lady-killers with those grins!"
As the boisterous atmosphere began to die down, I calmed myself and observed the gladiators. I still had no idea what we were laughing about, but since everyone's energy was high, it must've been a good thing. You never spit on a smiling face, after all.
Anyway, could this be considered a welcome?
"Heh heh... Truly barbarian-like, so bold and hearty."
"And you weren't half bad yourself, lady-killer."
"Quite the sociable newbie. Perfect. You couldn't ask for better to fill Sodutar's spot in the opening act."
Seemed like it really was a welcome.
These special-grade serial killers all had some twisted sense of humor, making it hard to get on their good side under normal circumstances. That sudden laughter bomb was a prime example.
I figured they were testing if I had what it takes to be one of their comrades.
As proof, the probing gazes had turned friendly.
"Alright, Katt. Go change into your outfit."
"Huh? You want me to come in here?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Uh... nothing. Just a momentary glitch."
—Swish.
I immediately took off my top.
My muscular upper body, covered in scars, was revealed.
"Oho! A true warrior's 'body'!"
"With that build... You've got 'talent'."
"Heh heh heh. A 'fine' newbie's joined us."
The gladiators erupted in admiration.
For some reason, they kept emphasizing certain words, but whatever.
"Oho... Definitely... This'll have 'impact'."
Durban admired my torso as well after eyeing it over.
With everyone focused on me,
I barely suppressed the urge to strike a cool pose.
This was the body of a warrior honed through three years of combat in another world. Plenty worth showing off. From a rough glance, it held up fine even against these gladiators.
No, in terms of sheer size, I had the edge. I was taller, too. Of course, skill-wise, they outclassed me.
The epitome of a savage warrior.
Strip me down, and I'm one impressive guy.
"Then hurry and fetch an outfit with that 'impact'."
"Nah, change of plans."
What Durban brought was pants with striking animal patterns, like something a primitive would wear.
Is this bastard aiming for barbarian swagger?
"Put these on."
"Going for the barbarian vibe?"
"Vibe? What's that mean?"
"Nothing. You want savage impact, right?"
"Exactly."
I unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants. My thighs were likewise covered in indelible scars from all sorts of wounds.
Bite marks, claw gashes, tears... I'd survived by butchering the monsters that inflicted them. A hero of reversals, a fighter for life itself. I slipped on the proffered pants.
Now I really felt like the stereotypical 'savage tribe warrior'.
"Durban. What about weapons?"
"Hmm... Tough call. Just use your usual sword."
"Got it."
I swapped my shoes for the provided leather sandals. They felt off, so I tied the straps tight. Better.
Without iron greaves, my body felt light as air. Greaves were nice, but being hunks of metal, they drained stamina like sandbags. Fresh off without them, it felt novel.
Today's fight would be greaveless.
My current gear: just my steel-hard body, beloved sword, savage pants, and sandals.
Losing the armor that always wrapped me like iron left me a bit less confident, but the foes were just three kobolds and three goblins. No matter what, I'd win. Just had to avoid getting hit. That was all.
I steeled my mind.
No steel armor? My body was steel.
I was the alchemist of steel.
"Wait here a bit. You'll be called when the opening starts."
"Sure."
Durban headed up to the surface.
As the moment approached, tension set in.
Nothing beat fighting publicly in front of spectators.
I had a history of tanking my classmates' vibes by forcing a compass performance on a high school trip stage. Could I really pull this off?
Shaking off the doubts with a vigorous head shake,
I wasn't that Kim Geun-tae anymore.
I was D-rank adventurer Kim Katt.
Big difference: law-abiding citizen vs. killer.
"Heh heh heh, newbie. You look tense."
"Nah, not really."
"Man, what a 'body'. All savages like that? Tall, broad shoulders... Prime 'material'."
As I sat waiting, gladiators started chatting me up. No hazing vibes. We'd bonded on a physical level already.
True warriors didn't haze those they recognized as peers.
That was proof of real warriors.
"Indeed. Every member of our Mir Keshar tribe is a fierce, brutal warrior. I left my homeland seeking blood and battle suited to me. It'd grown tepid, like a lukewarm bath, from the hot blood of the corpses I'd piled up. Wonder if this place offers fights worth my satisfaction. Heh heh heh. Looking at you all, you've bodies rivaling our warriors. Quite to my liking."
"Wh-what? This guy's switched up his speech?"
Today, I was a barbarian warrior too.
Had to match with fitting speech. I dusted off my old 'Barbarian Warrior Kim Katt' persona, shelved since it was useless back then when I was weak as shit and couldn't play the part.
"Speech is whatever fits the time and place. You gladiators too, right?"
"Hmm, spot on! With a body like that, you're gladiator material through and through! Truth is, that slimy Sodutar's always rubbed me wrong!"
"Yeah, yeah! Hey, newbie. How about going full-time gladiator? You'd have a real '砍伐味'—that chopping thrill!"
"..."
Terror-struck, I clammed up.
All that interest in my body? Just bloodlust to hack me on stage. Damn serial killers.
Fuck, wrong crowd. One and done, never again.
Shouldn't have mingled with killers from the start.
"Opening starts! Fighters, enter!"
A sharp shout echoed.
Here we go.
"Heh heh. Go on, Lord Barbarian Warrior. Heat up the crowd before the main event. Ha ha!"
I waved to the gladiators and headed topside.
Alright.
Just endure thirty minutes.
That nets a full silver.
"Fighter entering~!"
A bright voice greeted me. Announcer was a woman, apparently. I stepped forward. Crossing from underground to surface, I truly 'entered' the arena.
—Bloodstained dirt floor.
Scorching sunlight poured down, as if to burn my skin.
I surveyed the vast arena. Tons of spectators in the seats gazing down. Kobson or Cloudy might be among them, but spotting them was impossible.
—Murmur murmur.
Nearby entrance spectators whispered. Barbarian? Savage? Barbarian? Something like that, but too noisy to catch clearly.
"Today's opening fighter is none other than! From those distant barren lands! Where savagery lives and breathes, come solely to quench his bloodthirst with brutal combat—the ruthless barbarian warrior! The ferocious barbarian!!! "
Her voice pierced the rowdy arena.
"Give him a thunderous applause!"
—Clap clap clap clap clap!
All eyes locked on me. I immediately unleashed the Heavenly Demon Supremacy Step. Back straight, chin tucked, flaunting my height and build as I strode out boldly.
Everyone was watching me.
This moment, I was the world's center.
My middle school dream was to be a plain death metal singer. Never cared for idols chasing trends or famous movie stars.
Couldn't like what others liked, enjoy what others enjoyed—it wasn't in my nature. So I dove into death metal. Only those deathly vocals cooled my burning chest.
I wanted to be a singer.
But debuting as a death metal singer on Superstar K in Korea? Like plucking stars from the sky. It unearthed 'mainstream singers'. No place for fringe death metal.
Despaired.
Middle schooler Kim Geun-tae despaired then.
Like giving up baseball pro dreams in elementary,
I shelved death metal singer dreams in middle school.
Had to. The world. My lacking talent. Forced me to abandon my dream. God gave no talent. No talent? Effort might've sufficed. But...
God denied me even the talent for effort.
"Ahh."
But.
I'm not that old Kim Geun-tae anymore.
"Kim Katt."
That's right.
This very moment.
"Kih—"
I'd become a death metal singer.
「KIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—!!!!!!!!!!!!!」
I unleashed a savage roar. Just like the death metal singers I idolized, a full-throated scream. How long I'd trained for this perfection.
The essence of barbarism in that cry.
Venting past frustrations of no talent, no effort—I screamed.
Then.
—Ooh, oooh!!!
—Uwoooooh!!!
—Waaaaah!!!!
Thunderous cheers exploded.
"Simple."
This uncivilized otherworld rabid for thrills wanted exactly this. I'd sized up the arena already.
To me, versed in modern spectacles, showmanship was as easy as a rabid lion devouring a crippled Thomson's gazelle.
They saw black hair and thought 'savage'; my instant roar fulfilled it.
"Hear that!? That's the roar of savages, monsters in themselves! Terrifying!"
My howling form was the 'barbarian warrior' incarnate.
—Barbarian, huh?!
—Barbarian! Barbarian!
—Kieeeh!!
The crowd cheered wildly.
This was 'impact' enough.
Contract fulfilled faithfully.
"Then it's right to prepare a bloodbath for him! The barbarian warrior's foe is none other thaaan!!! The despair monster crawling from hell's depths!"
What? Despair monster?
"Kobolds!!! "
The opposite gate opened. —Kyaaak...! —Kyasasak...! Familiar cries: kobolds. Damn, 'despair monster' had me flinching, but just kobolds.
Oddly, armed: skull helmets from monsters, bone clubs as arm claws. Arena style, yeah.
Made them look kinda badass.
Still kobolds.
Right, time to earn.
"Match staaarts!!!!"