The Underworld Arena (2)
The VIP Room.
It was the highest floor of the Underworld Arena, offering an unobstructed view of the entire colosseum.
A figure wearing an eagle mask looked down at the arena with a bored expression.
His name was Karayan.
He was the master of the Ruins Merchant Group, the syndicate that ruled the black market, and the headmaster who oversaw this Underworld Arena.
'A predictable match. Not even worth watching.'
Karayan clicked his tongue.
This match had been rigged from the start so that the slaves could never win.
The slaves had been starved in their cells for days. On top of that, the only things provided to them were rusted, blunt weapons.
The probability of such slaves surviving against Barba, the Human Butcher, converged to zero.
'And the spectators watch the match knowing exactly that.'
An underdog effect?
No, from the very beginning, not a single person watching this match cheered for the slaves.
What the crowd wanted was a one-sided massacre. Here, the role of the slaves was merely to be living, breathing targets.
—Four! Only four slave gladiators remain! How will Barba finish off these slaves—
BOOM—!
Was that why?
The moment an anomaly no one could have predicted occurred,
—...Huh?
The arena was instantly blanketed in silence.
"What in the...!"
Clatter!
Karayan leaped to his feet, knocking his chair back.
With eyes wide, he stared down at the arena, his face a mask of sheer disbelief.
Dust slowly billowed up from the sand.
At its center stood a scrawny slave, quietly holding a one-handed sword.
Drip, drip.
And just a single step in front of the slave...
Lay the corpse of Barba, the Human Butcher, his head completely gone from the neck up.
Slide.
THUD!
As the giant's massive frame collapsed powerlessly onto the dirt floor, the arena froze instantly.
Faced with a shocking situation they had never anticipated, the spectators couldn't even draw a breath.
The dreadful silence created the illusion that time itself had stopped.
"..."
What on earth had just happened?
No one could comprehend the phenomenon that had just unfolded.
Something had flashed.
A violent gust of wind had swept over the arena, and when they opened their eyes—which had closed instinctively against the fierce pressure—Barba was already dead.
Yes.
That was all.
Unable to logically explain this unrealistic situation, the spectators stared down at the arena with dazed expressions.
Roll, roll.
Thump!
Right then, a dull, heavy sound echoed hollowly across the arena.
It was the sound of Barba's severed head, rolling across the dirt, finally bumping against the outer wall of the arena.
"Ah..."
Only then could Karayan accept the reality of the situation.
'...Barba is dead.'
So effortlessly. Without even being able to react.
"..."
Slowly...
Karayan silently shifted his gaze toward the slave who had killed Barba.
A scrawny body. Hollow, unfocused eyes.
On the surface, he was a man who looked no different from any other slave.
Yet, the movement he had shown moments ago was absolutely not something an ordinary slave could perform.
An unnatural speed that created the illusion that his body had vanished.
It was a movement that could only be executed by a high-ranking knight—a superhuman—or someone of an even higher realm.
'...But why on earth would a master of that caliber be dragged here as a slave in the Underworld Arena?'
It made no sense.
The slaves of the Underworld Arena were debtors dragged here because they couldn't repay their debts to the Ruins Merchant Group.
Most of them were human trash who, addicted to drugs or gambling, had lost their minds, borrowed money recklessly, and ruined themselves.
But that man was different from those pieces of trash.
'A warrior comparable to a high-ranking knight.'
With that kind of martial prowess, he could secure a high position anywhere on the continent.
There was no way a man like him couldn't repay a debt.
No, in the first place, he had absolutely no reason to owe money to the Ruins Merchant Group.
In a world where strength was everything, how could a powerhouse of that level ever be short on money?
'And even if, for some reason, he really did owe money to the Ruins Merchant Group...'
It still made no sense that he would quietly allow himself to be brought to the Underworld Arena as a slave.
After all, there was no way someone capable of killing Barba in a single strike would fall victim to the loan sharks of the Ruins Merchant Group.
'Then...'
Karayan swallowed hard.
There was only one thing this situation could mean.
'...That man allowed himself to be brought to the Underworld Arena on purpose.'
But for what purpose?
"..."
After pondering for a moment, Karayan muttered in a quiet voice.
"Loren."
"...Yes, My Lord."
The moment Karayan called the name, a figure emerged abruptly from the shadows.
"How did it look to you?"
At the brief question, the man shrouded in the dark robe hesitated to answer.
Before long, the man called Loren muttered, his voice laced with confusion.
"...Even I couldn't react to it at all."
Hearing the response, Karayan's expression darkened.
His bodyguard, Loren.
He was the strongest swordsman in the Ruins Merchant Group.
Since he was a warrior who had survived for four minutes against the 'Sword Master of the Raging Dragon'—one of the twelve Sword Masters of the continent—there was absolutely no reason to doubt his skill.
Yet, even Loren had failed to track the man's speed with his eyes.
"Ha..."
Karayan let out a hollow laugh.
His evaluation of the man who had killed Barba the Human Butcher skyrocketed.
After a brief moment of deliberation, Karayan spoke.
"...Prepare a meeting, Loren. It seems I must speak with him in person."
Inside the waiting room after the match.
Looking forward, I saw a full-length mirror.
Reflected on its surface was my appearance, which I hadn't had the chance to examine until now.
Facing my own face for the first time, I let out a sigh of relief.
"Phew..."
Dark blue hair slightly obscuring my eyes.
Golden eyes gleaming faintly through the strands.
And skin so pale it looked almost translucent.
'Thank goodness I left the character customization on default.'
It was the default appearance of the protagonist shown on the title screen of the original game.
Although I looked a bit eerie right now due to being emaciated with hollow eyes, I knew that beneath it all, the protagonist's face was handsome, with a youthful charm.
In any case, it was a stroke of absolute luck that I hadn't gone with a cursed, veteran-style customization for this run.
If I had customized my character the way I usually did, wouldn't I have been mistaken for a monster and slaughtered before even being dragged to the Underworld Arena as a slave?
'By the way...'
I clenched and unclenched my fists with a dazed expression.
'...That sensation from earlier.'
It was still vividly etched in my mind.
The thrilling sense of omnipotence that had enveloped my entire body the moment I activated the skill.
How should I put it?
It felt as if I could truly do anything with a sword.
To the point where I believed I could cut down anything in this world, as long as my will reached it.
...Though the problem was that its duration was a mere 0.01 seconds.
Reaches the ultimate state of swordsmanship while the skill is active.
'Anyway, with this, I now know the skill's effect for sure.'
At first, because of the abstract skill name and description, I hadn't had a clue what it actually did.
How was I supposed to figure out the skill's effect from descriptions like "Soul of the Sword Master" or "ultimate state"?
But once I actually used it, I understood its effect instantly.
'While the skill is active, I become a Sword Master.'
A Sword Master.
The absolute peak of swordsmanship that a human can achieve.
According to the original game's lore, only twelve people who have reached this realm currently exist.
That was how rare a Sword Master was.
It was a realm that a knight born with a once-in-a-century talent could barely reach after working themselves to the bone, which said it all.
You possess the greatest talent among tens of millions, no... hundreds of millions of Sword Masters.
...And I was a truly peerless existence, even among those Sword Masters.
'A talent that might appear once in hundreds of millions of Sword Masters.'
This meant that, at least for the brief moment I activated Soul of the Sword Master, I became the strongest being in this world.
The problem was that the duration was only 0.01 seconds... Ah, whatever. It's getting tiring to repeat this over and over.
'...But as expected, killing Barba didn't level me up.'
Well, it made sense.
Considering the lore of Lost Elder, this was only natural.
In the first place, this game had a growth system that differed from ordinary RPGs.
To be precise...
Knock, knock.
"...?"
It was at that exact moment.
A knock sounded from outside the waiting room.
Shortly after, a woman dressed in a maid's uniform carefully opened the door and stepped inside.
"The master of the Ruins Merchant Group requests your presence."
The master of the Ruins Merchant Group.
In other words, the headmaster who ran this Underworld Arena was summoning me.
'Right. I figured they'd react like this.'
It was within my expectations.
Rising from my seat, I followed the maid who was guiding the way.
I walked toward the highest floor of the Ruins Merchant Group, where monsters capable of taking my life with a mere flick of their fingers lurked.
"..."
Even in this spine-chilling situation, the reason I could remain so calm was...
The 'Mental Strength' stat is permanently set to 'MAX'.
...It was undoubtedly thanks to the passive effect of Soul of the Sword Master.
Perhaps because I had just fought a blood-soaked battle after being locked in a cell for five days,
I looked worse than a sewer rat.
A terrible stench wafted from my body, which was caked in dirt and bloodstains.
The maid must have also judged that meeting the master of the Ruins Merchant Group in this state was out of the question, as she first led me to a makeshift washroom.
Whoosh—
After a quick shower and changing into clean clothes, I followed the maid once more.
As I walked down the dimly lit corridors of the Underworld Arena, the lore of the game suddenly came to mind.
The Ruins Merchant Group.
That was the name of the organization I was going to meet.
They were an illegal syndicate that ruled the continent's black market.
Even by the most generous standards, the Ruins Merchant Group could never be considered good guys.
They were a group that chased nothing but money, dabbling in everything from human trafficking to drugs and various other illicit activities.
Just looking at the Underworld Arena they operated was enough to show how vicious this guild was.
'The headmaster of this guild is a person named Karayan.'
Karayan.
She was a tycoon who had seized control of the continent's black market solely through her innate insight and business acumen.
She was also an extraordinary merchant who, in the world of Loel where martial power equated to wealth, was the only one to build her power purely through financial strength.
'That is exactly where the official lore known to Loel players ends.'
Lost in thought, I soon arrived in front of our destination.
"We have arrived."
Stopping her steps, the maid carefully opened the door.
Creak—
As the door opened with the sound of rusty hinges, the first thing that caught my eye was a translucent level window.
Level 84.
It meant he was a powerhouse whose skills ranked among the very best on the continent.
I lowered my gaze slightly.
A person wearing an eagle mask sat in a chair, staring intently at me.
"So."
"..."
"Are you the gladiator who killed Barba?"
A man's voice flowed from behind the mask.
At the chilling, charismatic tone, the servants in the room flinched and trembled.
But why?
Despite the situation being tense, my mind remained completely tranquil.
Perhaps it was because Karayan was acting exactly as I had anticipated.
"I have no desire to speak with a puppet."
"...What?"
The moment I finished speaking, a bewildered voice slipped from the eagle mask.
Ignoring his reaction, I stared once more at the level window floating above the eagle mask's head.
Didn't I mention it earlier?
Karayan was a merchant who had risen to the high position of master of the Ruins Merchant Group solely through her innate insight and business acumen.
'Karayan's martial power is by no means high.'
Karayan's level was merely that of an ordinary person.
The only reason she could become the master of the Ruins Merchant Group was her outstanding ability to read the flow of money.
Therefore, the Level 84 monster sitting over there was not Karayan.
'Given the circumstances, it's highly likely that he is Karayan's bodyguard, the Shadow Knight Loren.'
It wasn't particularly strange.
Karayan had always hidden behind her puppets in the original game as well.
And above all...
"If you've invited a guest, show the courtesy that matches, Karayan."
"..."
"Don't speak through a puppet. Step forward yourself."
...Having played Loel two hundred times, I already knew Karayan's true identity, which was shrouded in mystery.
Slowly...
After speaking, I turned my head toward my back.
Specifically, toward the 'maid' who had guided me here.
"Surely, you aren't planning to keep playing dumb after I've gone this far."
"...!"
"...!"
The moment my words fell, the pupils of everyone in the room began to tremble in shock.