Proxy Gladiator's Berserk Rampage (4)
Fundamentally, the battles in this arena were a test of endurance. One person facing off against waves of enemies unilaterally. If you've ever been into pro wrestling, you've probably heard of Royal Rumble. Thirty wrestlers enter the ring at two-minute intervals, and the last one standing wins. Naturally, entrant number one has the disadvantage, while number thirty has the edge.
I was number one in this arena. My opponents weren't just numbers two through thirty—they could stretch into the hundreds. And they could even collude to focus solely on killing me. It looked blatantly unfair on my end, but it wasn't entirely hopeless.
"Gahk!"
The gladiator entered the arena, and I plunged my blade straight into his heart. I'd put a bit too much force into the one-handed stab, but I twisted the dagger once and yanked it out.
Spuuurt.
I dodged the gushing blood to the side and dropped the dagger. I still had it left if needed, plus plenty of other weapons to use.
"H-How...?"
"Hexter aside, Johann and Max too...?!"
Helma's gladiators panicked. They started exchanging uneasy glances, as if they hadn't anticipated this at all—or hadn't expected it to be this bad.
"I'll go! The bastard's got one arm wrecked! These idiots just got careless!"
In the midst of it, one bold guy charged in with his spear. The spear had a decent reach, making it threatening, but I had spears overflowing here too.
Snap!
I stomped the hammer handle with my foot, splintering it. The jagged broken end looked like an improvised spear, and I gripped it one-handed like a short spear, facing off against the spearman.
Clack.
Rematch. He lunged immediately, not giving me a moment to rest, thrusting his spear with skill that marked him as one of the better ones in this pit.
"Nope."
I twisted my body slightly to evade the heart-seeking thrust. At the same time, I maneuvered so the spear shaft slipped between my arm and armpit, then clamped down hard with my arm strength.
"!!"
His weapon was caught. But he didn't let go. He knew what happened when Hexter dropped his hammer, and he understood the gruesome fate of those who'd lost their weapons to me.
"Ngh...!"
He tried yanking the spear back. If he succeeded, the blade would slice into my arm and armpit like a grinder from behind—but
Stab.
"Grrraaah!!"
I gripped the shortened hammer handle and stabbed his hand. The ragged end tore through skin and flesh, sinking deep, and his face contorted in agony.
Thwack!
Simultaneously, I whipped my leg low, smashing his knee. A precise low kick to the joint unprotected by armor. His stance crumbled instantly.
"Ah."
Crack!
I rushed in and wrenched his neck. The helmet protected his head, and the chainmail blocked blades at the throat, but it couldn't stop bones snapping 180 degrees.
Another win in a row. I'd racked up victories as a proxy before, but this was different. Previously, I'd had time to rest while the nominated opponent prepped for thirty minutes. Now, enemies poured in without a break. The only breather was the moment after a kill when they froze in shock.
"Hoo."
My stamina was draining, but paradoxically, I was catching my breath.
"Next."
I scanned Helma's gladiators, and one by one, they swallowed hard, averting their eyes. They might've been willing to die on Madam Helma's orders, but watching comrades drop sequentially bred unease.
Why? Because the ones I'd just butchered in a row were far stronger than the reserves waiting behind.
The strategy was sound, but it wasn't going to work.
Throw in the strong ones first? Or sacrifice ten weaklings to wear me down, then send in elites like Hexter or Johann?
Helma had chosen the former. She had no choice.
This isn't a game.
Lives were on the line. No matter her orders, who'd willingly enter the arena as cannon fodder when they knew my strength? Even if they won—even if they killed me—what then? Who'd follow a boss who treated her own men like disposables? Not demons, humans.
She had to send in gladiators at least stronger than Dex. Only then was victory possible.
One regret for Helma: She didn't have many such elites.
Guys like that would've hit five wins and bailed, or never ended up in this hellhole.
Conclusion: What they called their "one-two punch" now lay dead in the first arena. The ones following? Even if a decent fighter stepped up—
"You fuck! I'll—Gahk!"
—they were getting weaker. I could slack off and still win.
"You're not enough. Unless you're strong enough to beat me, you'll just die to me."
Was it time to negotiate? I'd figured I'd need to drop at least ten more, but around the eighth or ninth, they were starting to value their own skins.
"What I want is simple. Madam Helma's life. All she has to do is come out herself. I'll keep proxy-nominating until she does. Lucky for me, plenty here are happy to help."
Betray their boss? Or fight knowing death awaits, for loyalty?
Their choice would shape the rest of the fight.
"F-Fuck!"
The next gladiator climbed in. Not grudgingly—he knew he might die, yet gripped his weapon to kill me. Not stupid. Not foolish. A cold calculation: it was his only way out.
In other words,
Guess I'll have to conserve more energy.
There was something scarier than the guy slaughtering gladiators before their eyes—something worth throwing away their lives for.
"Die!"
"You first."
Slash!
I swung a discarded spear from the ground, slicing his throat. Blood sprayed as he staggered back, tripped over a corpse, and collapsed.
"Next."
He'd come to survive—but if survival meant trying to kill me, I had no intention of stopping.
"How long you gonna just watch?"
I shook the blood off the spear blade and pointed at one of Helma's gladiators.
"You can come out too."
"G-Guh...?!"
Park Chang-su.
"What, you switching sides now?"
As some gladiators vanished or died, exposing Park Chang-su, the reserves shot him glares and ground their teeth.
Those he'd cursed at, those who'd nearly become whores after borrowing Exchange Vouchers on his suggestion.
"That fucker's a total dog!"
Even the older ones tormented by his tyranny.
"I-I..."
"You! This is your chance! Show Helma what you're made of!"
"Yeah! That guy's strong, and he's from our squad, right?"
"We know his weaknesses best! Go kill him!"
The gladiators egged Park Chang-su on, hoping he'd drain my stamina or at least land a mental blow by killing a "former comrade."
"Th-This...!"
But no matter how much they pushed, proxy fights required the nominee's consent.
"You coward!"
Threatening glares be damned—if the guy dodged, the nomination skipped.
"No more gladiators? Fine. Guess I can rest thirty minutes till Helma shows. Plenty here to nominate in my place."
Helma's side hesitated on proxies, but ours didn't.
"Anyone else wanna nominate?"
"I'll do it."
Among those waving Exchange Vouchers, Choi Yu-jin raised her hand.
"This works for me too, right? I nominate Helma."
"Of course."
"...Oppa?"
Silence. Choi Yu-jin's face twisted. Chest sinking, fearing betrayal—or that I wouldn't proxy for her.
"Oppa, um...!"
"Yoo Si-woo will proxy for Choi Yu-jin and fight Helma."
"You...! Hnng...!"
She almost swore, but clamped her mouth with both hands, stifling it. I scanned the fallen weapons for a good one—
"You've killed quite a few."
Click, clack.
Heels echoed, and Helma's gladiators parted left and right. Park Chang-su, frozen in shock, whipped around and stiffened.
"M-Madam...!"
"Useless fuck. No wonder your dick was so goddamn tiny."
Had he fucked the madam once? Helma shot him a contemptuous look and shoved him aside.
Thud!
Weakened or not, a single gesture sent the burly young man tumbling.
"Haa, really. I didn't want to come out myself. Hate seeing this mess."
Helma.
She appeared utterly different from her previous dress—clad in heavy plate armor. Her helmet peaked like a heretic inquisitor's spire.
"Incompetent fools. Forcing me out here."
"Yeah. Figured as much."
"What?"
"If you were a retard, those guys wouldn't be charging to their deaths. Must be something else."
I gripped a relatively intact spear one-handed.
"Seem skilled enough. Why hole up pimping here instead of heading out?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Her weapon: a rapier.
"Here, I just fuck and live easy. Outside? Fight demons and die."
"......"
"Not too late. Kneel like a dog, eat my pussy right here, and I'll spare you. Could be my new right hand."
"Fuck off. I'd sooner cut my tongue."
I mimed slicing my tongue decisively and beckoned her.
"I'll make you a sexless corpse forever."
"Oh? Guess not. Gotta chop your limbs and ride your face for all to see?"
"In your dreams."
My target—
the throat.
"I'd rather lick whore pussy than yours."