Chapter 104
Chapter 104
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (7)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
In the opulent reception room of a luxurious mansion, the giant and the tycoon faced each other.
Yubik Agrámendus downed his glass in one gulp and stared at Kadim. Borrowing the courage from the strong liquor, he finally opened his mouth.
"Good, very good. You're doing splendidly, Demon Slayer... To take out the Northern Spear in one shot and advance through the preliminaries—truly outstanding results. Thanks to you, this tournament is on track for unprecedented box office success..."
The emergence of the 'Demon Slayer' had turned the main tournament into a historic smash hit. The profits from the preliminaries alone rivaled the total earnings of the previous main event.
But Yubik's expression wasn't entirely bright.
"However... ahem, however..."
"......"
"C-could you perhaps hold back a little from now on? I know it's not your fault, of course, but the other mercenary leaders keep raising objections. They think you're up to something shady... And the audience is complaining that the matches end too quickly..."
Kadim crossed his arms and cracked his stiff neck.
"It's not that I'm strong—it's that my opponents are weak. Why blame me for bringing out weaklings who drop dead from a single axe swing?"
"......He's already dead, so there's nothing to say, but the Northern Spear was no weak gladiator. In close combat, he was a fighter who could confidently claim victory over anyone except Agon's Furious Horn. But who could have predicted that someone would hurl an axe from across the arena and hit him?"
"In that case, there's no need to watch anymore. I'll fight Agon's Furious Horn right now. If he holds out well, you'll get the long match you want."
"......"
They needed as many matches as possible to break even, so that wasn't an option. Yubik rubbed his dry face and let out a deep sigh.
"Phew... Fine, I won't force you to hold back. Instead, before the main tournament starts, could you do just one exhibition match? That way, I can quell the audience's complaints and buy time to persuade the other leaders..."
"......"
Kadim accepted the proposal only after hearing the addendum that they would advance the finals schedule in exchange.
But once he reached the arena, he regretted agreeing.
This wasn't just a fight against gladiators.
"Waaaaaaah, Demon Slayeeeeer!!"
"Kill them! Rip them all to shreds!!"
The spectators beyond the isolation barriers were still rampaging like wild beasts. The difference was that this time, there were beast-like figures inside the barriers as well.
"Hnnngh... guh... hnnnngh..."
"P-please, spare me... mercy, please..."
They weren't bloodthirsty beasts, but blind beasts fleeing in terror.
To satisfy audiences tired of straightforward brawls, the arena had prepared various bloody entertainments beyond regular matches. This 'Blind Hunt' was one of them. The rules were simple: for a set time, slaves with bound arms and blindfolds would flee, and the gladiator would chase and kill as many as possible.
"Kill them! Kill! Kill! Kill!"
"Chase them quick, Demon Slayer! Slaughter them all!"
"Hnnngh, please spare me... please..."
"Run! D-don't just sit there—flee!!"
Everyone had already witnessed how mercilessly the Demon Slayer butchered humans. The crowd clamored wildly, craving another brutal massacre. The slaves, pale with fear, struggled desperately to survive.
And a shadow darker than darkness fell over Kadim's face.
He killed gladiators without hesitation not because he enjoyed murder. They had come to kill him. The gladiators had entered this slaughterhouse willingly, for wealth and fame. If the power dynamic had reversed, he would have been the one ending up as a bloodstain on the dirt.
But these slaves were different. They hadn't come to kill him, nor had they chosen this. They had simply been driven to this beastly state by sadistic malice.
He had no desire to satisfy the trash's cravings with innocent blood. Kadim glanced toward the VIP seats. Instead of hunting the slaves, he opened the iron gate and left the arena on his own.
Kiiiiiing...
"Wh-what?"
"Where are you going, Demon Slayer?! Kill those vermin first!!"
Ignoring the crowd's outrage, he climbed up to the VIP entrance. A squad of mercenaries stood guard, but they were no match for him. He easily choked them out and approached Yubik, who was trembling, his jowls quivering in panic.
"Wh-what are you doing?! The audience is waiting! Go back down and kill the prey!"
"Got it. But those things are all skin and bones—no fun to hunt."
"......?"
At first, Yubik didn't understand. But when he saw Kadim approaching with the blindfold in hand, he realized the mad idea Kadim had in mind.
Before he could become the prey himself, the Arena King hastily canceled the event and refunded every spectator's ticket price.
*
After the Northern Spear's death, the mercenary leaders of Agon were thrown into chaos.
"The Northern Spear... Rumark... ugh... grrr..."
"......"
His sponsor, the mercenary leader, had become a shell of a man. The others were equally somber.
If he had died in a fierce battle, there might have been a glimmer of hope. But their strongest ace had met a pathetic end like a bug. They couldn't even gauge how to defeat the monster called the Demon Slayer anymore.
Then, someone made this proposal.
"......Since it's come to this, why not send Malkes out in the first main match?"
"......!!"
The mercenary leaders were even more shaken than before.
The 'Vile Hunter' Malkes.
A gladiator with an astonishing 23 wins and 0 losses, yet with scarcely any followers. Over 90% of his victories came from fouls, traps, and dirty tricks.
But the Vile Hunter hadn't been banished from the arena.
Every stage needs villains as much as heroes. He drew boos and jeers from the crowd, providing a dark catharsis. His matches guaranteed hype, so the Arena King had tacitly overlooked his schemes.
The question was whether those schemes would be tolerated against the Demon Slayer...
"This is already a fight over our rice bowls with the big boss! He's completely lost his mind over this premium product called the 'Demon Slayer.' No matter what he does now, the boss will protect him unconditionally. Even if he slaughters every gladiator under us!"
"Then shouldn't we avoid touching the Demon Slayer? He seems too dangerous..."
"No, the opposite! We need to snap the boss out of it! Dig traps, use poison—kill the Demon Slayer somehow! He'll defend him desperately before death, but once he's gone, what can he do? If the boss has any sense, he won't abandon our partnership for revenge!"
"......"
The mercenary leaders exchanged glances and eventually agreed to send out Malkes.
All the while inwardly resolving to blame the one who suggested it if things went south.
*
By now, no gladiator was unaware of the Demon Slayer's notoriety. Being singled out to face him would leave most looking as if they'd been sentenced to the gallows.
But the Vile Hunter Malkes was different.
He burst into laughter, unable to contain his supreme joy.
"Heh... heh heh heh heh..."
The most rewarding moment in his life was hunting strong foes he could never beat in a fair fight using vile tricks. He was thrilled at the chance to hunt the hot topic he'd already marked.
Malkes's hunts didn't begin only in the arena. From the moment the prey was chosen, it had already started. Even though the match was far off, he busily schemed and gathered intel.
'Yeah, nothing beats poison for reliability...'
Poison the food beforehand, coat the weapons. Simple and ordinary, but all the more effective.
But he couldn't use ordinary poison. Circumstances suggested the Demon Slayer had committed some 'foul play' to supernaturally enhance his body. There was a risk the poison might not work.
So, Malkes visited Agon's black market and bought a very special 'deadly poison.'
A toxin no human, no matter how tough, could survive. Upon absorption, it induced hallucinations and auditory visions, twisted the organs, made blood gush from every orifice, had no antidote, and inevitably led to death.
"Just 10,000 rudes. And don't tell anyone I sold it..."
"Heh heh, sure, sure... heh heh heh heh..."
"......"
Hard to handle and coveted even by the Magic Tower, it had been tough to acquire until recently, when supply increased. Malkes clutched the poisoned vial like a treasure and left the black market.
He already had a plan for delivery.
'Before or after matches, that little bearded runt sometimes offers the Demon Slayer wine... Swap it with the poisoned one, and he won't suspect a thing...'
Right before the main match began, Malkes executed his plan.
He hid behind a wall with a peephole to watch.
"My lord, if you're thirsty, would you like some wine?"
The wine had already been swapped with the poisoned version. The boy, oblivious, presented it. When the Demon Slayer took the glass, the Vile Hunter thought the easy hunt was complete.
But the Demon Slayer didn't drink.
"......"
He glanced at the blood-red liquid and scowled.
He seemed to question the boy, then stared intently at the wall. Malkes thought he'd been caught and held his breath.
But no—he didn't approach and simply left. Though he left the untouched wine on the chair.
'......Damn, did it fail?'
Disappointment didn't last. He'd already coated his throwing knives and blade with poison. The Vile Hunter withdrew to prepare for the real match.
But then, the Demon Slayer returned.
Malkes pressed to the peephole. The man glared at the glass with bloodshot eyes.
"......"
His fists trembled, lips twitched. His shoulders spasmed faintly, face flushing red. Like a drunk swearing off booze, enduring the temptation of liquor right before him.
'......Why's he acting like that?'
As Malkes furrowed his brow in suspicion.
Suddenly, the Demon Slayer grabbed the glass and chugged it down.
Like gulping cold water after endless thirst—possessed, ravenous, not a drop left. He even scanned around urgently for more. His crimson eyes gleamed with sticky madness and obsession.
Stunned by the bizarre sight, Malkes nearly froze. But he snapped to, backed from the wall, grinned maniacally, and dashed to his waiting area.
Expecting the match to start and the prey to spew blood and collapse after swallowing so much deadly poison.
*
The gong signaling the match's start boomed.
DOOOONG!
His expectations veered in a bizarre direction. Indeed, as the match began, someone vomited blood and collapsed.
But it wasn't the Demon Slayer—it was Malkes himself.
Stab!
"G-guhk..."
Twiiiist!
The blade through his throat twisted and yanked out. Blood spurted wildly, its metallic tang refluxing into his esophagus and airways, churning his stomach. He tried to exhale, but only frothy blood bubbled up his throat.
"Guh... glrrrk... glrrrk..."
Excruciating pain narrowed his vision. The Vile Hunter stared desperately at the prey who had turned the tables. His eyes seemed to ask:
Did you know about the poison in the wine? If not, why didn't you drink at first? If you did, why come back and guzzle it like that?
How could a human drink 'demon blood' and not only survive, but rampage even more monstrously?
"......"
Instead of answering, Kadim stomped down hard on Malkes's skull.
Splat-crunch!
Under the berserker's glowing red gaze, the head that had schemed vile tricks shattered into formless pulp.