The Deal (2)
The eerie, distorted language spilled from Woo Suho’s lips the moment the gunshot faded. “■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■.”
I’ve come for Jason’s head.
The arena master couldn’t hide his shock. When he’d first heard that a mage of incredible skill wanted an audience, he’d assumed the man was either a glory-hungry fighter or a thug looking to extort money. After decades of navigating every dirty trick in the book, the master had been confident he could squeeze some profit out of the visitor. But the mage turned out to be something else entirely.
Normally, when a mage cast a spell, there were signs. A surge of dense mana, visible distortions in the air—those were the basics everyone knew. Yet from Woo Suho, there had been nothing. After unleashing a thunderous roar like a bolt of lightning, there wasn’t the slightest trace of magical buildup. That was the first thing that stunned the arena master.
The second was this:
“■■■ ■■■ ■ ■ ■■■……”
I’m not here just to kill him. I want a fair fight. On the stage of this arena.
The master understood the man’s voice. It was a grotesque language he had never heard in his life—certainly not one that existed in this world. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, he grasped the meaning hidden inside it. A phenomenon that could only be explained by magic… except it wasn’t magic.
The arena master swallowed hard.
What exactly was the man standing before him? Could he even be called human? The master sensed the same uncanny aura from him that he had felt from Jason. The longer he looked, the more he felt strangely entranced.
“Master! Are you all right?”
The guards burst through the door in a rush, weapons drawn, glaring at the man who had caused the commotion. The master raised a hand to stop them.
“It’s nothing. Just a small test. Return to your posts.”
Just like Jason, this mysterious mage reeked of money. The arena master was an extremely greedy man. If he hadn’t been, he never would have dared to persuade a chainsaw-wielding killer who stank of blood in the depths of a dark forest and bring him to the arena.
He calmed his racing heart. His instincts were screaming at him: Don’t let this one slip away. The scent of profit was too thick to ignore. Perhaps this man could reignite the interest of the arena’s biggest patrons, whose enthusiasm had begun to wane.
“I apologize for my earlier rudeness.”
The master ordered the waiting staff to bring wine and fresh fruit.
“A fair fight, you say… I’m curious what you hope to gain from battling Jason. Honor? Money?”
“I have no interest in such trivial things. The only thing I care about is Jason’s head.”
The master smiled. It was the same polished, businesslike smile he reserved for his most valuable patrons. The man must have seemed that attractive to him.
He tapped his fingers on the table, already spinning schemes in his head to tilt the situation in his favor.
The arena master felt like the same breed of person as the eighteen-year-old I’d dealt with before. His attitude had become respectful in an instant; he clearly needed me. I had intended to fight H-O-13 in place of Adam’s little sister. If that happened, I could beat the crap out of H-O-13 without friction from the arena guards, and Adam’s sister would be rescued naturally. When both sides could benefit each other, a deal was bound to be made.
The master was a greedy man. The arena’s real income didn’t come from admission fees—it came from the massive gambling commissions. The peak was when the arena’s “big players” placed their bets. A chainsaw murderer versus an incomprehensible being. Honestly, it was the kind of matchup that made the blood boil. Anyone who missed out on that spectacle was either not human or simply bad at marketing.
Even regular fistfights were insanely entertaining. A fantasy battle with magic and guns flying everywhere? That had to be an incredibly stimulating show. Anyway, the master knew how to run a business. He was racking his brains hard, trying to figure out how to use me.
If the crowd saw my abilities, they’d definitely be interested. That was exactly the point I was driving at.
“First, I have a question. Why do you want Jason’s head so badly?”
“I’m someone who was once killed by Jason.”
The master’s eyes narrowed. He tried to hide it, but the shock was obvious. Still, he continued.
“I came to the arena because I want revenge on him.”
“How is a dead man standing here talking to me?”
“Because even if I die, I don’t stay dead.”
The master fell silent for a moment. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“I want to settle my personal grudge against him. In the form of a fight to the death.”
“I see.”
“I want to fight him right now.”
“Jason’s next opponent has already been decided. That’s a difficult request.”
I knew that. But I couldn’t just let it slide.
“Cancel it.”
“What?”
“You don’t seem to understand the depth of my hatred. I won’t be satisfied until I tear that bastard into pieces and bury him in the ground.”
“The schedule is already set. Besides, if the match is canceled, Jason’s rage will be beyond imagination. I don’t see any reason to shoulder that kind of risk.”
“Can you handle my rage?”
“Ha! What an amusing fellow. Do I look like someone who can be pushed around so easily?”
The master’s stance was firm. Even when I raised the gun like a madman, ready to pull the trigger at any second, he shook his head and refused. Honestly, if I were in his position, I’d probably prioritize the guaranteed box-office draw that was Jason over some stranger I’d just met.
Time to raise the stakes a little more.
“Let’s meet again in one hour. By then, your stubborn mind will have changed. You only get one chance. I hope you choose wisely.”
The gun barrel was pointed at my own head.
“What the hell are you—”
Before he could finish, I pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Along with the gunshot, my consciousness cut off.
“Crazy bastard. He’s actually insane. How the hell does someone like this even get born…?”
The arena master trembled as he stared at the pool of blood on the floor. The guards had already dragged the corpse away, but his office was still covered in the traces of death. Splatter patterns of blood and brain matter stained the walls.
The man had killed himself right in front of him. When his demand wasn’t met, he had ended his own life without hesitation. It was a situation the master couldn’t understand—and didn’t want to.
“Haaa…”
He downed a glass of whiskey. People said alcohol calmed a startled heart, but his pulse refused to settle.
“How has someone with a mind like that managed to stay alive until now…?”
After that brief, bitter assessment of the dead man, the master spent a long time simply staring into space. He couldn’t think of anything. No one had ever shaken his mind this badly before. Not even when he had faced the owner of the Clocktower or the Sword Saint’s disciple, Kwangho, had he lost his composure.
As he sat motionless in his chair, a faint sense of regret crept over him.
“If it had worked out… it would have been one hell of a fight…”
Not fearing death. That was the most important quality a fighter could have in a bloody, visceral brawl. It meant they would give everything just to win.
The master stared blankly at the spot where the man had died, then slowly rose from his seat. The mood was foul; he might as well head home early and spend the night with some whores.
That was when it happened.
Creak.
Just as he reached for the doorknob, someone opened the door and stepped inside.
The master’s jaw dropped.
Standing there as if nothing had happened was the same unidentified man who had blown his own brains out moments ago.
What kind of sorcery was this? No—could this even be achieved with magic? A spell that allowed someone to return from death surely couldn’t exist in this world…
“It’s time to make your choice. Will you accept my demand, or will you keep worrying about Jason? The decision is yours.”
In the end, the master had no choice but to accept the man’s request. He had seen mages who slaughtered people without magic affecting them. But a fighter who came back from death? He had never seen anything like it.
His heart pounded wildly.
Just who was the man standing before him? And what kind of match would he put on in this arena?
The corners of the master’s mouth curved into a crescent-moon smile.
The fight this man would deliver would probably create a spectacle the arena had never seen before.