Chapter 11: Second Round
Chapter 11: Second Round
The next day.
Jiha sat in the Colosseum waiting room.
"This bitch is really..."
Jiha tsked, utterly dumbfounded.
Blue Seal's thirty Common warriors were supposed to rotate through the Summoning War. Standard procedure was to fight again three or four days later, win or lose, as long as you were still alive.
"...Right. Throwing me in the very next day would've looked too obvious."
Jiha ground his teeth.
He'd beaten Zrambul, gotten one day of rest, and was being sent right back in. No prizes for guessing whose handiwork this was: Enril.
"She can't kill me herself, so she's going for death by proxy."
Just as he'd pointed out in the bedroom, if Enril personally killed Jiha, the post-mortem cleanup would get complicated. So this was a war of attrition—throw him into Summoning War matches nonstop and grind him down.
"Fine by me. I wanted to test this ability in live combat anyway..."
As if drawn by his words, a hand shot out of the shadows. Shadow Hand — the Special Ability he had acquired by sucking Enril's blood. Pitch-black darkness shaped into five fingers, almost human-like. Black energy dripped from it like beads of blood. Eerie, but a precious Special Ability.
"Okram's Instantaneous Rigidity vanished after a day. But this one's still here... which means indirect Bloodsucking grants temporary abilities, while direct Bloodsucking gives permanent acquisition."
He would need to observe it a few days longer, but it was probably correct. With this, he could win.
"But just winning and leaving it at that won't do..."
If he won today, Enril would just throw him into another match two days later. Nonstop fighting without any rest, and that would break him eventually.
"I'll have to make her cut the crap."
He would win, but he would also shatter the bitch's murder-by-proxy scheme.
"It's time."
At the voice from outside, Jiha rose from his seat.
The arena.
The moment Jiha entered, the audience showered him with jeers.
"Booo!"
"Pathetic bastard!"
"Die today!"
Drinks and trash flew into the arena, but the commentator did nothing to stop it. In fact, she egged them on.
"Now then, the third match! The human Jiha, who two days ago pulled off a shocking upset against Zrambul! Brimming with fighting spirit, he has immediately stepped back into the Summoning War! One win, twenty-eight losses! Will that luck hold out again today? Stay tuned!"
"Fighting spirit my ass..."
Enril had screwed him over, plain and simple.
Jiha scowled and glared up at the VIP seats, but Enril was nowhere to be seen. So she hadn't come... well, he would settle this debt eventually.
Jiha loosened up his body while assessing the situation.
"Third match... that makes me the mid-card."
Summoning War matches usually consisted of five bouts per day, with the more important fights scheduled later. Jiha had always been stuck in the first or second match, because he had always just surrendered.
"Getting bumped up the card isn't something to be happy about."
It meant the opponent, Purple, would field a Common of similar caliber. Placing him in the third match was Enril's malice, her attempt to get him killed.
"Yes! And facing him from Purple is this man! A veteran! A stellar record of seven wins in eight fights! A hideous exterior but a stalwart warrior! A monster that regenerates from any wound! The troll! Baujing!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A two-meter-tall giant with green skin stomped noisily into the arena.
"Baujing!"
"Avenge Zrambul!"
"Tear that brat to pieces!"
Snorting as he stared down Jiha, Baujing swung his club in a wide arc. The force split the air, and gasps rippled through the stands. Enough power to casually pulp a human head.
"Enough already..."
A troll. Jiha was thoroughly appalled by Enril's treatment. The troll's advantage was its regenerative power. Unless you killed it in a single blow or knocked it unconscious, winning was impossible. Telling a bare-handed human like Jiha to fight a troll—wasn't that outright stating she wanted him dead?
The audience held its breath, eagerly awaiting Jiha's brutal end. Beating Zrambul was nothing but a fluke; they couldn't imagine a mere human like Jiha handling a troll that possessed both monstrous strength and regeneration.
"Hoo..."
In the past, he would have surrendered. But not anymore.
"Winner take Freedom!"
He would fight and seize it.
With the commentator's declaration, Jiha's second match began.
The second match.
Jiha did not move; he simply watched his opponent. The troll Baujing stood motionless, watching him like a mountain.
'Did he hear about Zrambul?'
Baujing had realized Jiha's attack and defense were beyond expectations and was waiting for him to attack first.
"A troll..."
Trolls were famous for their regeneration. Could he finish this in one decisive blow, like with Zrambul?
Thinking it over, Jiha bent down and picked up a rock from the ground at his feet. The stone he threw bounced off Baujing's chest.
"Ah, what is this! A dirty tactic! Contestant Jiha is insulting his opponent!"
Would throwing a pebble at a troll do any damage? It was nothing but a provocation. Baujing's eye twitched, but he still didn't charge in first.
'I'll have to aim for a counter.'
The Summoning War was won by rendering the opponent unable to fight. Even if the troll's regeneration was absurd, knocking him out cold in one go would do the trick. Jiha planned to land a clean shot on a vital spot—the heart, the brain—and end it. Baiting the opponent into attacking first and then planting a counter was the most effective approach.
Jiha threw a few more stones as taunts, but Baujing didn't budge.
"Hey! What's with you, Baujing!"
"Scared?"
"A waste of that size!"
When Baujing still didn't move despite Jiha's mockery, the audience jeered. The spectators, overwhelmingly women, loved watching male Commons tear into each other, rolling in the dirt. They would clap and roar with laughter. A static fight like this was never going to be popular.
"What are you thinking?"
As Baujing stood there silently, Jiha grew curious. Popularity mattered for Commons in the Summoning War. The more popular a Common was, the more money the audience would bet on their matches, which earned them a share of the take. Using that money to buy weapons and armor was the basic routine for Commons.
Winning was fundamental, but securing the crowd's enthusiasm was advantageous for survival.
'Well, I had my own reasons for letting Zrambul live...'
Jiha had already been thinking about other ways to earn money and had saved Zrambul after weighing his options. But Baujing's behavior, blatantly ignoring what the audience wanted, was a bit odd.
Baujing answered him.
"Attack first. I'll concede it."
"Why?"
"Zrambul is my friend."
"..."
He meant he would concede the first attack because Jiha hadn't killed Zrambul.
Jiha savored those words, then nodded.
"Alright, then..."
As he spoke, Jiha hunched low. Blue Mana began swirling around his legs. The jeering spectators started murmuring.
"What's that?"
"No way..."
A Common using Mana?
Having finally recognized the Mana burning more vividly than it had against Zrambul, the crowd buzzed. Ignoring them, Jiha launched himself forward. Mana-enhanced legs were swift as the wind!
"Hap!"
With a burst twice as fast as against Zrambul, Jiha closed in. Baujing swung his club frantically, but Jiha was already inside his guard.
"And..."
Jiha thrust his fist forward, riding the momentum. A Mana-infused punch, the same attack that had downed Zrambul in a single blow.
Crrack!
The troll's body shuddered with the sound of tearing hide.
"..."
Jiha grinned, his fist buried in Baujing's solar plexus. The troll had braced himself, but Jiha was far faster than expected.
'Sucking Enril's blood gave a huge boost to my Mana.'
Jiha smiled at the tangible sense of his own growing strength... but Baujing's arm was already moving. Even with his head thrown back, the arm silently swung the club.
It was coming straight for his skull!
"What?"
He tried to pull his body back, but the troll's other hand had a vice grip on his ribs.
"Guhk!"
Thanks to Mana enhancement, his ribs didn't break immediately, but it was a monstrous grip. And the club smashed into Jiha's head.
Thwaaang!
His head rang; his vision flashed white. Without Mana reinforcement, that heavy impact would have shattered his skull.
"This bastard..."
Worse, the blow rattled his brain and dulled his judgment. Baujing had guessed Jiha would try to finish it in one exchange. He'd chosen to trade flesh for bone, trusting in a troll's toughness and regeneration—pinning Jiha with one hand while methodically swinging the club with the other.
Thwaaang!
A second hit followed, splitting Jiha's forehead open. Blood streamed down. He was concentrating his Mana on defense, but he couldn't hold out long. A third hit, a fourth—he would die.
But if he focused his Mana into his fist, his defense would weaken and his ribs would be pulverized instantly. As things stood, Jiha was pinned, helpless, about to be bludgeoned to death.
"..."
Jiha's staggering gaze dropped to the floor. His shadow overlapped with the troll's.
Whoosh!
Just as the club swung in for the third bone-crushing strike, Jiha focused his will.
Shatter!
In that instant, a black hand burst from Jiha's shadow and seized Baujing's arm in a crushing grip—a colosssal strength that surpassed even the troll's monstrous power. Caught by a black hand erupting from a shadow, Baujing couldn't hide his shocked expression.
Crun-unch!
"Gyaaagh!"
The strength was so immense that Baujing couldn't hold back a scream. As the fingers digging into his side loosened, Jiha spoke curtly.
"That's what happens when you grab me."
Crack!
Jiha's Mana-enhanced fist uppercut Baujing's jaw, lifting the two-meter troll higher than his own height.
Flop.
Baujing's body rolled across the ground and lay still. A concussion. Normally it would be dangerous, but for a troll, it would heal on its own if left alone.
"Hooo..."
Without wiping the blood streaming from his head, Jiha shifted his gaze. The rabbit beastman in the bunny girl outfit blinked in shock, then hastily shouted.
"Upset! Another upset! Victory goes to Contestant Jiha! What exactly just happened? A human beat a troll with his bare hands..."
The commentator's voice trailed off. Jiha had raised his hand. The blue energy swirling around his arm was plainly visible to the commentator and every spectator.
"That's..."
"No way, but..."
As Jiha showed them, practically flaunting it, horror spread through the stands.
"Mana?"
A Common possessing Mana was completely unprecedented in Warsland.
Jiha addressed the agitated crowd curtly.
"You see that clearly, you dumb bastards?"
The words were crude, an insult, but the audience didn't jeer. The man shouting them down before their eyes was unprecedented, an anomaly. The way they looked at something they couldn't comprehend was no longer the gaze reserved for a slave. Faced with stares mixed with fear and terror, Jiha laughed.
"From now on, if you're going to gamble, bet on me."
Almost no money had been wagered on the Zrambul match, so Jiha's victory had yielded nothing tangible. But today, fired up by his provocations, the audience had bet heavily on his death and defeat.
The money Jiha earned from winning today was 30 million Rel. Equivalent to 30 million won.
Now that he had money, it was time to get started on the next step.