Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Back Alley Arena (2)
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Time passed, and I headed to the request location.
Arena. According to the rumors I'd heard, it was called a place of life-and-death battles where fighters staked their lives... but despite the grandiose name, it was really just a gambling den betting money on fighting dogs. Only on a larger scale.
The main difference from a simple fighting pit was probably the existence of "gladiators."
──Participate as an arena gladiator and win.
That's right. I had to fight as a "gladiator."
Matches where an animal and gladiator teamed up against opponents. Lose, and you die. No, you'd suffer unspeakable horrors before dying miserably—chewed up or toyed with like a plaything.
Well... they sure as hell wouldn't leave a beauty like me unscathed.
Remilia had warned me several times. If it felt like too much, just go as far as the entrance and turn back. Accept a match and then flee, and other employers who frown on that might come after me.
Even if my employer was a big shot... I doubted they'd protect me if I ditched the request and ran.
- Flutter.
I unfolded the note.
'17th Street, sixth alley.'
Arriving at the address on the note, the atmosphere shifted immediately.
The men prowling the alleys shot glances my way, but that was it—they didn't approach.
Just as Remilia said. Being so blatant actually drew less attention. The only people dragging huge beasts into the 17th district alleys were arena-bound.
'This must be it.'
Oil and iron stench. Rusted pipes. Crawling bugs. A foul reek, shadows cloaking everything without ever revealing themselves. The classic back alley.
- Step.
Reaching the arena front, the first thing that caught my eye was a massive iron cage crammed with beasts.
The thick fur scent hung heavy. Blood-soaked, yet oddly alluring. It stirred something, heating my body. Face strangely flushed, I dragged my feet forward.
The cages teemed with nameless creatures. Scarred, stench-emitting brutes growled and gnawed at the bars or took whips from their apparent owners.
'Poor things.'
Was this pity from Animal Lover? Or just my nature? Following Remilia's advice, I furrowed my brow but kept excessive sympathy in check.
A few more steps, and the entrance loomed.
'Here we are.'
The entrance was massive—wide enough for four grown men to stand comfortably.
Well, they had to cram those giant beasts through, so it made sense.
- Step.
With Bori seated nearby, I approached the entrance when a burly bald brute lumbered over. He gave me a once-over, face twisting in annoyance.
"How'd you get here?"
"Walked."
Quit yapping and let me in already.
"What?"
The bald brute's face contorted.
His eyes brimmed with scorn and contempt.
A girl a head and a half shorter than him, waltzing into the back alleys. Toting nothing but a Gray Wolf. He was dead certain I couldn't handle the drugged monsters—his face said it all.
He raked his gaze over my body and flashed a filthy grin.
"Dog dick not enough? I could fix that for ya."
Too detached from people to grasp fully, but that emotion? Crystal clear.
Lust.
Stagnant desire clinging viscously.
I gathered spit in my mouth and—ptui—hawked it.
"—Huh?"
The thick glob nailed his forehead. Drip. The man grimaced, hand drifting to his waist. Giggling, I said,
"Beauty-spit special. Savor it."
17th Street might run on employment ties, but reining in these illiterate thugs' tempers with scraps of paper? Fat chance. No binding that boiling rage.
- Shing.
Baldy drew a dagger from his belt.
"—Dog-fucking whore wanna die?"
"Sigh. Why's every reaction the same?"
I swept my hair back, raising my hand high. Ivory locks fluttered aside. Puppy-hand shape, chomping motion.
"Bori, doesn't that look tasty?"
Playful tease, grin unchanged.
- Whoosh...,
I tilted my head up, and a massive shadow blanketed the sky from behind. Sudden dusk like sunset, the bald brute's throat bobbed.
Gray Wolf Bori—sharp red eyes blazing at the guard.
Bori sat behind me, eyeing the "prey." His gentleness matching my stride or carrying me hid his size, but reared up like this? True bulk hit home.
"Uh, uh..."
Baldy panicked. One fang dwarfed his dagger.
Bitten by those? Head pops like a melon.
Overwhelming presence.
Three times a normal Gray Wolf.
Sitting alone showed house-sized heft.
Smirking, I snapped my fingers.
"—Eat."
Instantly, Bori lunged at the bald brute.
Fangs bared—skull-crushers extraordinaire.
"Gasp...!"
- Crunch.
Crown to jaw.
Upper and lower fangs dimpled skin deep.
Of course, no chomping. I hadn't ordered it.
But those drooling jaws... he was holding back.
"Hic, eek!"
—Grrrrr...
A wolf's bone-chilling, guttural growl.
The guard crumpled, pissing himself.
Terror-mute, just quaking.
—Punish cocky types thoroughly. A limb or two's fine.
Remilia's advice.
"Don't move. Might trigger a snack attack?"
Just following Remilia.
Made things smoother here, too.
"S-sorry!"
"Got it? Step aside."
"—Y-yes!"
Clutching his reeking pants, the guard swung open the iron gate.
Down to the underground.
The interior felt cave-huge.
Deeper in, the lighting deepened. Crimson and red decor gave butcher-shop vibes.
Descending further revealed a corridor ahead, iron cages lining both sides. Thump, thump. Vibrations echoed. Something trapped inside. Too dark to make out.
'Blood stench thick as the vibes.'
Splat, splat. Blood puddles dotted the floor. Faint drug whiff too—sweetish, mind-numbing. I reflexively nose-blocked with my sleeve and pressed on.
"Bori. You good?"
Faint sniff dizzying me—what about a wolf?
"Grr..."
Bori's fur bristled, eyes locked ahead. Breaths shallow. No drug haze.
"Hm? What is it?"
Step, step. Petting Bori as we advanced—
- Thud!
—A dark-red horn speared from a cage.
Spear-sharp.
Horn rocketing at my brow—too fast, frozen stare only option.
"—Ugh!"
- Thwack!
Instant shove aside by Bori; he swatted the horn with a forepaw. Blocked, he slid in front and crouched.
On my butt, I blankly peered into the cage.
—Hiiing...!
"......Horse?"
A neigh.
I stood, peering in. The beast head-butted the bars, glaring nonstop. Pushed forward, crimson light revealed bits.
Red hide, hulking frame. Stark silver hooves.
Head horn razor-keen.
'Hold up. Horned horse?'
Curiosity beat shock.
I rose slowly toward the cage.
"Kyng!"
Bori's caution cry. But the beast kept its head jammed, silently staring.
Step, step. Closer. Horse gaze pinned, stock-still.
Past horn to muzzle-close.
Face now clear.
Chuckling, I muttered,
"......Pretty eyes, huh. You."
Ruby-gleam reds.
Arm through bars, hand to cheek. Rough, neglected hide. Horse snorted gruffly, eyes fixed.
Then.
"—Heh. Suicide try?"
Flippy male voice.
Whipped around. Gaunt gray-haired guy hunched toward me. Jingle. Keyring on belt—dozens.
Glanced back; horse vanished deep, faint red eyes only trace.
Regret warmth's loss as the man eyed me oddly.
"Hmm. Weird. Super weird. No way they'd quiet down like this. Who're you?"
Deflated, I shot back,
"That's my line. Who're you?"
"Arena monster wrangler—call me Hans. But that one's impossible. Vicious bastard. Heh. Freaky."
Cheeks caved creepy. Trembly fingers, mutters—drugged vibe.
Cut the drift before it wandered.
"Here as gladiator. Where's registration?"
"Oho. Gladiator entry? Got your pass?"
Entry pass.
Remilia's gift. Fished gold-foil envelope from my bosom.
Hans snatched it, ripped—rip—extracted contents. Tossed husk, gripped gold card two-handed, eyes bulging.
"Heh! Nice haul you got!"
"Hm? What's it say?"
"Dunno details—noble-backed. Eyeing the prize, huh."
Noble, eh.
Figures—Remilia was top-tier employer. Expected. But yay or nay? Hated high-society tangles.
...Chance though? Better gigs? No harm stamping favor.
"Yesss. Legit. Follow. I'll guide."
Satisfied, he spun—my musings ignored.
Arena guts more maze than expected. Back-alley ant-nest trait—multiple doors. Mine breeders' rear.
Hans the self-named wrangler managed the caged horrors.
"Heh, heh. Taming these? Needs hardcore dope. Wanna try? Hits nice local."
Corridor haze: sedative for raging beasts. Not standard, per Hans. His shakes, scrawn? Abuse fallout.
"...Pass. Guide sans bullshit."
Shot down flat, topic-swap.
"Ah yeah! Key thing forgot. That beastie. How?"
"That? Horn-head nag?"
Dark-red horned horse.
Face screamed bafflement.
"Yup! Drugs bounced off—just caged it. How'd you charm? Secret juice? Heh. Juicy. Spill the trick?"
"...Did jack shit."
"Lies! Total lies! Rams pulped thirty-plus! Four days no chow or water—how's it peachy? Fess—new dope?"
"Ah, jeez..."
Earsplitting.
Frowning,
"Back off. Ringing. Anyway, zilch done. Your asses provoked. Looked sweet-eyed to me."
Inward hunch, though.
Animal Lover trait's doing.
And Charm stat weighted for beasts.
Cheat-tier maybe.
Pity: monsters immune.
'Skills aside, good kid vibes.'
Ruby orbs.
Bori-warned, still mesmerized closer.
Storm of feels from those eyes.
Captive rage.
Fierce jealousy.
'Jealousy...?'
Odd on rethink. Trait reads animal moods fragmentary. Definitely envy vibes.
"Heh! Missed its rampage. Shredded ten glads. Killer waste. Too prime—stud it!"
"Heh... stud?"
"Eh? That mug?"
"Huh?"
My face? Snapped to it—lewd leer. Cough, straighten.
"Stud" hooked weird. Damn drug haze—face slips.
Whatever, Hans shoved my back at "central lobby," cackling.
"Here! Kiddie corpses? Cleanup drag—fight smart. Heh."
Liked me? Giggled sendoff.
'...Not a bad soul.'
Junkie aesthetic, freaky chatter, but conversable.
Chuckle, stepped in.
Central lobby buzzed with people—unlike the breeders. White lights, no dope stink.
"Alright. Bori. Let's roll."
Heading out, a counter drone spotted me, scowled. Strode over, bellowed,
"—Hey! Who're you? Gladiators only! Cage that mutt and—"
Trailed off, eyed us, aha face.
"Aha. You, huh? Wolf's Bride."
"Ha?"
That lame nickname gag again? Mid-curse, he jabbed a finger.
[ Match Table ]
Match table.
Today's highlight bout: Wolf's Bride vs. Mad Horse. Short and sweet.
"...Fuck."
How far's this damn nickname spread?