The Underworld Arena (1)
"Hey, wake up."
Tap, tap!
Someone tapped my shoulder, shaking me awake.
I forced my heavy eyelids open and looked around.
Through my spinning vision, my surroundings slowly came into focus.
"..."
It was the inside of a filthy, damp dungeon.
Dozens of slaves sat huddled together, completely drained of life.
Their wretched appearance, looking as though they hadn't eaten in days, made it immediately clear how horrific this place was.
"You're finally awake. You were lying there so still, I thought you were dead."
I turned my gaze toward the man who had woken me.
He was a well-built man.
Unlike the other frail, emaciated slaves, he possessed a remarkably sturdy frame.
...Sven.
That was his name.
He was the man who had shared scraps of food with me while we were locked in this cell.
Thanks to his help, I had managed to survive the last five days without starving to death.
"Anyway, you'd better get ready. It looks like the match is about to start."
"...Match?"
"Yeah. Can't you hear it? The roar of the crowd?"
I focused my senses and listened closely.
Just as he said, a faint, distant cheering seemed to echo from far away.
Well, it's been five days since I woke up in this cell. I suppose it's about time for that event to trigger.
Pat, pat.
"Either way, keep your wits about you, friend. If we survive this match, we can get out of this living hell."
Sven patted my shoulder with a grin, then busied himself waking up the other slaves.
I watched his retreating back blankly and let out a deep sigh.
"Phew..."
The Underworld Arena.
A place where gruesome, blood-soaked matches were held.
And in those matches, slaves were used as mere disposable pawns.
Their humanity stripped away until their very last breath, all for the entertainment of the spectators.
It's no wonder Sven calls this place a living hell.
I sighed again at the grim reality.
Living hell or not, just a few days ago, I had a completely different name for this place.
The tutorial zone.
A location I had entered and exited hundreds of times through my computer screen.
"..."
Yes.
Five days had passed, and it was time to accept reality.
Somehow, I had been sucked into the game I loved to play so much.
Strength: 1
Agility: 1
Stamina: 1
Mana: 1
Perception: 1
...
Weapon Mastery — Sword: Lv. MAX
...And of all things, it had to be as the trash concept character I had made just for fun.
At least the story seems to be progressing according to the original game.
The Underworld Arena was the starting zone where every sword-wielding character opened their eyes at the beginning of a new playthrough.
As a veteran player with over two hundred runs under my belt, I knew this place inside out.
But that was exactly why my heart was so heavy.
...Because there is absolutely no way to escape this place.
The ironclad security.
A structure designed to make escape physically impossible.
And the sheer cruelty of the guards, who constantly maintained extreme conditions to ensure no slave would ever dare dream of breaking out.
The Underworld Arena was a notorious, inescapable zone in the original game.
Struggling here was utterly pointless. That was why I had spent the last five days quietly rotting in this cell.
And above all, escaping is a pipe dream with a body this weak.
In truth, that was the biggest problem.
I had absolutely no strength.
My head felt as heavy as a boulder, and my blurry vision spun constantly.
Of course, surviving on the tiny scraps of food Sven gave me for five days didn't help, but...
...Looking at my level, it wasn't just because of the starvation.
"..."
I slowly looked around.
Above the heads of the other slaves, translucent windows—just like the ones in the game—began to shimmer.
In the world of the game, the average level of a healthy adult male was around 10.
Even these slaves, who were on the verge of starvation, were all above Level 5.
In contrast, my level was 1.
When I checked my status window, my Stamina, Strength, Mana, and every single stat below them were plastered with the pathetic number 1. Just 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1... down the line.
No wonder I can barely move.
Suddenly, a game message I had seen through the monitor a few days ago flashed in my mind.
Why on earth did I ignore the system's warning?
If I had known things would turn out like this, I would have distributed my stats evenly.
A deep, belated regret washed over me.
The only thing I can rely on right now is this...
I silently stared at the bottom of my status window.
Specifically, at the 12-star Mythic-grade skill I had obtained by sacrificing every single stat point of this body.
Grade: ★★★★★★★★★★★★ (12-Star / Mythic)
Type: Toggle (On/Off)
Cost: 100 Mana per second
...And why is this one unusable too?
For some reason, the 12-star skill, which should have been glowing with a brilliant rainbow light, was dulled to a gloomy gray.
Unusable.
Ever since I woke up in this cell, the Soul of the Sword Master had remained in this state.
Is it because my maximum MP is only 1?
According to the skill description, it consumed 100 mana per second.
But my Mana stat was a mere 1.
By simple math, I could only keep the skill active for a measly 0.01 seconds.
If the skill is completely deactivated because I don't have enough mana...
...It meant I couldn't even use the Mythic-grade skill I had traded my entire stat pool for.
Fuck.
A curse slipped from my lips at the sheer absurdity of the situation.
And for good reason...
Slam!
...Because there was absolutely no way my frail body could survive the brutal tutorial about to unfold.
"Get up, you filthy maggots!"
The iron bars slammed open, and half a dozen guards stormed into the cell.
Watching the guards crack their whips and herd the slaves, I thought to myself:
It's finally starting.
The tutorial.
An event that triggered on the fifth day of the player's imprisonment in the Underworld Arena.
The main story of the game was finally about to begin.
"What are you doing? Move it!"
Crack!
Suddenly, a white-hot pain flared through my mind.
One of the guards had lashed my back with his whip.
"Ugh...!"
It hurt!
Fuck, it hurt like hell!
My body was already weak, and the sudden impact nearly made me black out.
But I couldn't just lie there.
To avoid getting whipped again, I scrambled to my feet along with the other slaves, fleeing toward the opposite side of the cell.
"Pant, pant...!"
A faint light began to flicker at the end of the dark corridor.
As we drew closer to the light, the distant cheering grew louder and clearer.
Before long, the darkness gave way to a blinding brightness, and a wide-open arena welcomed us.
Waaaaaaah!
I stopped in my tracks and looked around in a daze.
"Ah..."
It was a circular colosseum surrounded by tens of thousands of spectators.
The dusty dirt floor was already drenched in thick, muddy blood, as if a battle had just taken place.
A few corpses that hadn't been cleared away yet rolled across the ground.
Just then, a man's booming, cheerful voice echoed through the arena.
"Now, let the second match of the day begin!"
I turned my head toward the source of the sound.
At the very top of the arena, a one-eyed man, who appeared to be the announcer, was shouting into a magic megaphone.
"In the first corner, we have fifteen slaves from the Underworld Arena!"
"Dragged into this living hell because they couldn't pay their debts, they are now gladiators fighting for their freedom!"
"Any slave who survives this match will have their debts completely wiped clean and receive a massive sum of one hundred million Shillings from the Ruins Merchant Group!"
Rusty weapons lay scattered all over the arena floor.
A few quick-witted slaves immediately scrambled to pick them up the moment the announcer finished speaking.
Rumble!
Right on cue, the iron gate on the opposite side of the arena began to rise.
At the same time, the announcer introduced the common enemy the slaves had to band together to defeat.
"And here, the hero who will face these fifteen slaves all by himself!"
*Gulp.*
I swallowed hard.
For some reason, the announcer's next words seemed to echo in my ears before he even spoke them.
After all, this was a scene I had watched hundreds of times while playing the game.
"...The Human Butcher, Barba!"
The scene I had only ever viewed through a monitor was now playing out in reality.
Thud!
The ground shook heavily.
Standing easily over three meters tall, a warrior clad in massive heavy armor slowly emerged from the dark tunnel, wielding dual axes.
And above his head, a translucent window appeared.
A staggering Level 71.
Considering that anyone Level 90 or higher was considered one of the strongest beings in the world, the Human Butcher, Barba, was easily the top combatant of this region.
In the game's lore, he was known as the strongest gladiator in the Underworld Arena, which said it all.
He wasn't a slave like us. He was a free man hired by the Underworld Arena for his combat prowess.
Waaaaaaah!
With the entrance of the arena's star gladiator, a roar incomparable to anything before swallowed the colosseum.
"Ah, ahhhh..."
The slaves turned pale.
Watching the gladiator march toward them with a murderous aura, some completely lost their will to fight and collapsed to the ground.
"Get a grip, you bastards!"
Just then, a slave holding a spear he had picked up from the ground shouted at the top of his lungs.
...It was Sven.
He glared at the Human Butcher, Barba, and growled fiercely.
"We have the numbers! If we kill that giant knight, we're free!"
Freedom.
The moment that word left his mouth, the atmosphere among the slaves shifted.
A glimmer of hope sparked in their eyes.
Gripping the hilts of their worn-out weapons, the slaves reignited their will to live.
"..."
But watching them, I could only bite my lip.
Because I knew exactly how this tutorial ended.
...No one survives.
Every single slave in this match would die.
Without a single exception.
Even the player character would be cleaved in half by Barba's dual axes.
Whoosh!
Splat!
The noisy arena fell silent in an instant.
With a sound like a crushing watermelon, dark red blood sprayed in all directions.
I turned my head.
A massive axe had split Sven's face clean in two.
Thud.
His body collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
A beat later, an explosive cheer erupted from the stands.
Waaaaaaah!
What followed was a one-sided massacre.
True to his title as the Human Butcher, Barba swung his dual axes, continuing his bloody festival for the crowd.
Blood and entrails splattered everywhere.
The terrified slaves ran frantically to escape Barba, only to be cut down by his flying axes.
I could only watch the scene unfold, my eyes trembling with anxiety.
My body... it won't move!
It wasn't that I was frozen in fear.
No matter how hard I struggled, something defying the laws of physics held me firmly in place.
A tutorial cutscene.
To recreate the exact perspective of the video I had watched through the monitor, an unknown force was restricting my movements.
...Right.
This was how the tutorial was programmed to run.
The player and the slaves could never defeat the Human Butcher, Barba.
It wasn't just a level difference; the game itself was hardcoded that way.
Countless veteran players had tried to kill him.
But the moment Barba's HP fell below a certain threshold, the screen would automatically transition to a cutscene where the player was executed.
...The system was designed to force the player's death.
In the end, the player, killed by the Human Butcher, is dumped into a corpse pit...
And with the help of a Necromancer who happened to be wandering nearby, they are resurrected as an undead.
It was a narrative device to justify why the character could retry after dying.
The player's first death in the tutorial was the true prologue of the game.
"..."
But just because that was the original plot didn't mean I was going to give up on my life.
A game was a game, and reality was reality.
Above all, even if I could be resurrected by a Necromancer as the story dictated...
I had absolutely no desire to die.
There was a *crucial reason* why I couldn't let that happen.
"Whew, whew."
Of course, I knew.
Under normal circumstances, it was impossible for a mere Level 1 like me to survive against a Level 71 monster.
As if to prove that fact, not a single person among the tens of thousands of spectators held any expectations for me.
But it's not entirely impossible.
Because...
Ring!
Because the moment I gripped the hilt of the worn-out sword rolling on the dirt floor...
The 12-star skill that had been dormant began to glow with a brilliant rainbow light.
...So the condition to use the skill was holding a sword.
It wasn't deactivated because my maximum MP was 1.
Nor was it deactivated because my Strength or Stamina stats were ridiculously low.
Weapon Mastery — Sword: Lv. MAX
As a reward for investing everything into swordsmanship talent...
The skill simply required me to hold a sword to activate.
"Phew."
Whoosh.
Right on cue, a notification chimed, and control of my body returned to me.
The tutorial cutscene had ended.
Taking a deep breath, I stared at the MP bar floating before my eyes.
0.01 seconds.
By simple calculation, the maximum duration I could maintain the Soul of the Sword Master, which consumed 100 mana per second, was exactly 0.01 seconds.
Is it possible...?
Even for a 12-star skill, was it really possible to kill that monster in a mere fraction of a second?
I didn't know.
To find out, I had no choice but to test the skill on the Human Butcher, Barba, myself.
"Argh...!"
I gripped the hilt tightly and pulled the one-handed sword out of the dirt.
Perhaps because my Strength stat was only 1, my arms trembled violently just trying to lift the blade.
Some of the spectators burst into laughter at the sight of me.
Even the Human Butcher, Barba, who was busy hunting down other slaves in the distance, glanced at me briefly before turning away.
His indifferent gaze made it clear he didn't think I was even worth keeping an eye on.
"..."
Right.
Of course it was laughable.
An emaciated slave clad in rags, unable to even lift a sword properly—it must have looked utterly pathetic.
Still...
Praying that this would be a meaningful struggle.
Clinging to this skill like a lifeline, I activated the Soul of the Sword Master—
BOOM!
A deafening roar split the heavens and the earth.
A sudden, violent gale swept through the arena, forcing my eyes shut.
My ragged clothes fluttered as if they were about to be torn off, and my hair whipped wildly in the wind.
After the brief commotion passed, an absolute silence fell over the arena.
I opened my tightly shut eyes.
"...!"
My heart nearly stopped.
Because Barba, the Human Butcher, who had been far away just a moment ago, was now standing right in front of me.
But that wasn't the only strange thing.
For some reason, both of my arms were stretched forward, gripping the one-handed sword.
And the tip of that rusty blade...
Drip, drip...
...Had cleanly sliced through the neck of the now headless Barba.