Chapter 134
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: Arena Barbarian Warrior
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The match begins.
—Kyaaaah!
—Kyasa! Kyasa!
—Qyuusaaah!!!
At that signal, the kobolds' chains were released, and they charged straight at me. Even though they were blind, they pinpointed my location perfectly—must be their starvation-sharpened sense of smell kicking in.
Back in Krasheim, whenever we captured monster eggs or hatchlings, we'd sell them to the arena. It was pretty lucrative, and since it happened often enough, I'd gotten familiar with one of the arena staff—a one-eyed guy, I think.
Anyway, monsters raised as arena fodder go through hellish abuse to instill a demonic hunger. Pain and starvation—the perfect way to break them in.
No love needed in training.
Monsters aren't pets or companions.
They're conditioned brutally solely to serve as arena sacrifices.
But no amount of training erases their instincts.
Being monsters, they don't submit to humans—they just scream and build up hatred. And when their chains come off, that rage explodes as pure aggression toward the human in front of them.
Just like these kobolds.
"—Slow."
I kicked off the arena floor too.
No matter how much hatred these primitive kobolds harbored against humans, no matter how berserk with rage they got—even if they suddenly sprouted sword auras—they were still just kobolds.
Rage achieves nothing.
That's why their momentum doesn't faze me.
Unless a kobold spontaneously masters sword auras, they've got no shot.
—Tap tap tap tap!
My running speed outpaced theirs easily.
Obviously. Kobolds can't match my size or strength in any way.
So I've still got plenty of room to play.
And with room to spare, shouldn't I repay my new pal Durban's kindness with some top-tier showmanship?
"Kkiyooooooooot!!!!!!!"
I bounded around the arena's edge like a bladed kangaroo from a nightmare, a hellish demon's screech ripping from my throat. Right now, I was a wild stallion—or rather, a wild human—unleashed!
My legs were million-dollar legs!
Forrest Gump sprinting through time itself!
For maximum impact and showmanship, I hugged the arena's edge as close to the crowd as possible, running as barbarically as I could.
"Gyaaaaaah!!"
I could see the audience's faces in the stands.
"So barbaric!"
One noblewoman shrieked, throwing her hands up. I stuck my tongue out at her greedily. "Kyaaah!!" Her scream echoed. I snorted once and kept charging.
"Guwaaaaaah!!!"
I was confident in my screaming.
Mom always called me a drama queen for wailing in pain, but I've got a gift for it. A true scream artist!
Never made it as a painter, but an artist is an artist!
"Too horrific!"
More gasps from the crowd. For these folks leisurely spending their morning at the arena, a real barbarian's roar and savage antics delivered a massive cultural shock.
Had they ever seen gladiators slicing people up? Or a wolf-boy, abandoned by his parents and raised by wolves, howling in anguish after humans "rescued" him—slaughtering his wolf family like they were kin?
Even imperialist intellectuals from 19th-century Europe would faint at the sight.
That's the kind of cry I let out.
The boy didn't want human rescue.
Didn't want his wolf family massacred either.
But all he got was slaughter disguised as salvation, and brutal "civilization."
Forced into ill-fitting clothes, taught knife-and-fork etiquette.
He didn't last long.
Cause of death: civilized-world bacteria.
After endless abuse and language drills, his dying cry was a wolf's howl.
Stripped of savagery, the wolf-boy died at least as a wolf.
"Awooooooo—!!!"
People recoiled in horror at my wolfish barbarity.
Perfect. That's the vibe.
The crowd was heating up!
High on the energy, I pounded my chest like a gorilla and bellowed.
"Oh my God, look at him!!! He acts like he's the monster himself! That horrific howl! Those savage, barbaric moves! He's a barbarian incarnate! Strutting the arena floor like it's his bedroom!!! A primitive man from an unevolved jungle!!! His name: Savage Katt!"
No, screw that, lady.
"Ah! The kobolds stopped! Are they... scared??!!! A monster cowering in fear—unprecedented!!!"
Sure enough, the charging kobolds huddled together, trembling.
That's the level gap. I've slain enough kobolds to fill three digits. I've built towers of their bones to stand here today.
I'm their slayer, their nightmare. No wonder they're terrified. But a barbarian warrior doesn't dodge fights—even against quivering weaklings.
I veered straight for them.
—Qyu, kyasa!
Feeling the ground shake, the kobolds crouched low, fur bristling.
A classic fake-out to look bigger against predators. About as intimidating as a flailing carp.
Ridiculous. I accelerated harder.
—Kyasa kyasa!
Collision imminent. One, two. Three. I leaped—
"Kim Katt Dropkick!!!"
—and launched my ultimate dropkick, reserved for true black-belt taekwondo masters.
—Pwaak!
"The End!"
The kick shattered its bone armor, piercing the kobold's chest.
No monster's survived this kick, as far as I know. Death's dropkick. Ribs cracked like thunder as it flew back.
—Kyasa?!
—Kyasa!
Enraged by their comrade's death, two kobolds swung their arms.
Broken bones lashed to their hands like claws. On bare skin, that'd hurt like hell. No armor on me now. Had to dodge.
—Kyasa!
The kobold's slash whistled through empty air.
I rolled aside, evaded, then lunged—grabbing its wrist and twisting. No way this weakling shakes my grip. Its arm snapped backward.
—Qyuusaaah!!!
Joint popped, horrific scream. But even Santa skips crybabies. No mercy for tears.
"Fatal Royal Copenhagen—!!!"
—Whooosh!
Holding the wrist, I swung it like a massive warhammer into the ground. —Kwaek! Clean arc. Full-power smash turned it to mush.
"Weak! Too weak! I crave blood!!!"
I roared maniacally, grabbed the mushy corpse's ankle, and spun a giant swing.
—Kwaek!
The last kobold leaped at me—bounced off the swing.
Like licorice in herbal medicine, rotation's a barbarian's staple. Our skills? Whirlwind or Giant Swing.
—What a horrific warrior!
—Barbarian! He's a barbarian!
—Ooh! Barbarian!
The crowd gasped. But the real show's just starting.
True duels are 1v1.
—Shing!
Released the swing. Kobold rocketed like a missile into the wall. Head-first—neck's probably snapped.
One left: the one flung from the swing.
I turned. Fallen kobold in sight.
—Qyu... saah...!
Approaching, it shuddered to its feet.
Its warrior spirit burned clear. No fleeing, no fear. Standing to fight with its wrecked body.
I see.
It was a "warrior" too.
"The finale begins! Barbarian Katt slays all but one hell demon! How far will his brutality gooooo—!!! One left! Just one! Oooone—!!!"
—Kill! Kill!
—Kill the kobold!
—Barbarian warrior!
The announcer hyped them up, turning gasps to cheers for kobold blood. Nothing hooks humans like action. Proof? Action flicks flooding theaters yearly.
"Can the kobold withstand the barbarian—waaah!!!"
Even the announcer strained his voice.
Great immersion.
Opening act: success.
With the crowd this fired up, maybe even a bonus.
"Come at me, frail one."
I addressed the kobold with utmost respect. This fight's mine, no question. Least I can do is this mercy for its final charge.
—Kyasa!
It spread its arms and kicked off.
Ninja-like stance. Skull helmet rattled. Bone claws gleamed at arm's end. Dust swirled in its wake.
"Come."
—Qyuusaaah!!
I took my stance.
No way I lose to a kobold.
The battered one was slow, sloppy—pure instinct, no tactics.
—Kyasa!
Close now. It swung its arm. Dim brute brain grasped the claw's purpose. Fury incoming.
But.
"Short."
—Pwaak!
I drove my fist into its gut mid-charge. —Grulk! Innards pulverized. It puked blood. I hoisted the limp thing overhead like a barbell.
Everything good, but reach gap's insurmountable. Short arms lose to long ones—especially with power and skill edges.
"Ooooh!!!! It's over! The match is decided!"
Last thrash? It twisted body and legs. Futile, no strength left.
End of the line.
Its pathetic life ends here.
"Fatal."
I slammed it down and stomped upward. Target: spine. That'll literally "fold it in half."
—Crack!
"Kobold Killer."
Spine severed. Kobold went limp.
My victory.
"..."
Arena fell silent.
I glanced at the announcer.
"V-Victory! Barbarian victory, victory!!!! Brutal finisher!!!"
—Waaaaaah!!
—Uwoooooh!!
—Uoooooooh!!
Cheers erupted.
Glad they enjoyed.
"Next round immediately! The barbarian's foe this time—unbelievable! Hell's spawn! Hell's lion! A fiery, horrific transcendent beast crawling from hell's abyss—!!!!"
What the hell.
"Goblins!!!!!!!!!!!"
Next up: the goblin trio, as planned.
Goblins outclass kobolds. I retrieved my tossed sword. Barehanded against goblins? Risky.
—Keruk, keruk.
—Keruk.
They were armed, naturally. Nothing fancy: stone axes, skull helmets.
I gripped my sword tight and advanced straight on.
This time, swordplay.