Death Match

The day Pernok survived.

The guard came with a hardened expression unlike usual.

“Pernok, come out.”

Two unfamiliar guards flanked him on both sides.

‘The effort of heating up the spectator seats paid off.’

Pernok pretended ignorance and prodded the guard.

“A subjugation battle already? Now you want us to kill monsters with just two people?”

“From today, you’re going to death matches.”

“What’s that…”

“No time for long talks. Come out now.”

The guard opened the cell door, but Pernok didn’t budge.

“What about the old man?”

“You’re going alone.”

“That’s troublesome. As you can see, my body’s not well, so I need someone to look after me.”

The guard frowned.

“Does this sound like a request to you?”

“Wasn’t it a deal? For as much as I move my body, your side should look after my convenience too.”

“Hah.”

The guard looked at the other guards as if to get permission for something.

When the guards nodded, he drew his baton and entered the cell.

“You think you’re something special just because you survived a few times?”

When Pernok shrugged his shoulders, the guard got excited.

“You livestock bastard…!”

The moment the guard raised his baton high.

Pernok made his instep like a hoe and hooked the inside of the guard’s knee.

The moment the guard’s center collapsed, he pulled the back of his head with both arms and stamped his face with a knee loaded with body weight.

Thwack!

The guard’s head snapped back, and his front teeth broken from the intense impact flew through the air and fell outside the cell.

Thud!

Pernok trampled the blood-soaked guard’s back while gripping the baton.

“H-hey…!”

Yak panicked with a pale expression.

The two guards who belatedly came to their senses tried to rush into the cell, but.

“I have one demand. Take the old man too.”

When Pernok tried to bring the baton down on the subdued guard’s head, they couldn’t help but stop in place with a flinch.

“No compromise besides this.”

Pernok spun the baton around while resting it on the guard’s back of the head.

The two guards, who’d been stamping their feet, eventually brought the person in charge.

The guard captain, wearing a pointed hat pulled low, glared at Pernok with shadowed eyes.

“You’ve got more guts than I heard.”

“Cut the pointless talk and decide whether you’ll take the old man and me to the other arena together or not.”

“Only players participate in death matches.”

“You can just leave the old man in the waiting room.”

“We prepared meals for forty people total.”

“Five people died in Room 15. Food should be plentiful by that much—can’t you do simple math?”

The guard captain’s eyes turned cold.

“You don’t know your place yet.”

“For someone who was kidnapped, I’m being kind. If you want my cooperation, you concede too.”

“Pernok…”

“Instead, I’ll give you a fun show.”

Pernok smiled wickedly.

It contained confidence that they absolutely couldn’t do anything to him.

The guard captain’s eyebrow twitched.

‘Cunning bastard.’

He knows his own value well.

This type won’t budge an inch until they pay the desired price. Even with a knife to their throat, they prioritize pride.

‘How did they catch such a troublesome one?’

Though this side did the kidnapping, it flowed into a strange situation where he had to appease him for the show.

Recalling the manager’s reminder to bring him to the death match unharmed, the guard captain clicked his tongue briefly.

“Fine. I’ll grant your demand. However, if you die, Yak dies too.”

“He’ll die even staying here anyway.”

“I hope that boldness works in the death match.”

When Pernok smirked and stood up, the blood-soaked guard bolted out of the cell.

“G-Guard Captain…”

Swish!

Before the groaning could start, the guard’s throat was cut.

A fountain of blood surged, spreading a terrible scent through Room 15.

The guard captain resheathed the sword he’d drawn before anyone knew it. Then he stared at Pernok with an indifferent gaze.

“Whoever it may be, this place doesn’t tolerate the useless.”

It was a warning that he’d definitely kill him if he didn’t produce results as expected in the death match.

“Drag him.”

“Y-yes!”

The two tense guards dragged Pernok out of the cell.

Pernok obediently extended both arms and glanced at the blood pooled on the floor.

‘Just now, something sparkled.’

The skill of cleanly cutting the guard’s throat with a single thin sword was neat.

But the shining line that flowed out together when he swung his arm.

What was captured momentarily in the Observation Eye was interesting.

‘Is it because of that blue light surrounding the soul?’

The guard captain’s soul was an ordinary color. But blue lines that ordinary people didn’t have flowed along the soul.

“Don’t look around and walk faster!”

Pernok, who’d burned the guard captain’s strength into his eyes, left Room 15 with Yak.

* * *

Pernok and Yak entered one of the forty narrow cells.

“Get ready right away!”

Before Pernok could catch his breath, the guard called.

Yak wore a resolute expression.

“I’m already prepared.”

“Do I look like I’m going to die?”

“No, I’m saying don’t do reckless things because of me.”

“Don’t worry about useless things and get ready to teach me the remaining letters.”

Pernok smiled as usual and followed the guard into the wide arena.

Instead of spectator seats, an opaque barrier covered the high-rising walls.

‘Death matches are the stepping stone toward individual matches, wasn’t it?’

The one person who survives here receives VIP selection and participates in the individual match tournament.

From that point, they escape the miserable livestock status and become a player.

They can eat as much fatty meat as they want and receive support for necessary weapons.

Above all, since personal treatment differs, everyone dragged here hopes to become a player.

‘Beyond that barrier must be the VIP who invited me.’

Death matches were warrior selection ceremonies for VIP betting.

Those who survived here ascended to individual matches.

Just thinking about how much spiritual power the strong gathered in individual matches had made his mouth water.

To raise the sluggish synchronization rate, he absolutely had to pass through here.

“Take the weapon you want.”

The death match moderator pointed to the weapon display inside the iron gate.

It was full of sharp weapons incomparable to subjugation battles.

Pernok drew a medium sword, but there was no particular reason.

In his current body condition, the medium sword was the only weapon he could swing for long.

“This place has one rule.”

The moderator stared at Pernok with dry eyes.

“Survive until the end.”

When Pernok entered inside, the iron gate closed.

There were thirty-nine players of various genders and ages in the arena.

Though anxiety was felt in the gazes probing each other, no one made the first move.

That everyone had come here through difficult processes meant they possessed qualifications difficult to judge by appearance alone.

Pernok carefully examined the crowd he couldn’t let his guard down around.

One among them caught his eye.

‘That’s…’

A man whose soul held a blue light.

‘Similar to the guard captain’s blue lines, but the color is lighter and the form unclear.’

An old man pointed at that man with a flustered expression.

“E-Erik!”

Erik shouldered a solid steel club and turned to the old man.

“Have we met somewhere?”

“I was lucky enough to see you hunting monsters.”

“If our paths overlapped… Ah! Room 1, then.”

“Th-that’s right.”

“I heard one assassin from Room 1 survived—that’s you?”

The old man only gulped down dry spit, but Erik just yawned with an indifferent expression.

“Well, survive if you can.”

“Damn it!”

The old man shouted toward the VIP seats.

“You never said there’d be a mage!”

At those words, everyone murmured.

Magic.

A crystallization of innate talent.

Mages were classified from levels 1 to 7, and those who implemented laws beyond magic were called ‘Magi.’

Magus grades were marked as S1, S2, S3, X, and were themselves pillars supporting nations.

‘Then does that mean the guard captain or that blue light dwelling in souls is mana?’

He had no knowledge of magic to confirm Erik’s level.

In his subordinates’ memories too, there was only the word “mage.”

Among the absolute beings who achieved great feats, there were no mages.

This was the first time actually facing a mage.

But if those blue lines signified mana, Erik definitely fell behind the guard captain.

He didn’t seem like a significantly threatening element.

“The match begins!”

As soon as the majestic voice echoed from the VIP seats, Erik spread his palm forward.

He had no weapon, but everyone couldn’t even think of approaching nearby.

“You idiots.”

A fireball the size of a person’s torso formed in Erik’s palm.

“What difference does keeping distance make?”

When Erik shook his hand, the fireball spread in all directions.

Five who’d been gasping at empty air cooked in an instant.

“Gaaahk!”

Crack!

As he brought the steel club down on the head crying out in pain, Erik smiled wickedly.

This was a death match.

They had to kill and be killed.

But Erik’s unique presence overwhelmed everyone.

“Since you’ll die anyway, let’s go comfortably. Hey!?”

Whether opponents approached or fled, the fireballs burned people nearby in order.

Blocked on all sides, even escape was impossible.

The arena with no exit heated up like a steamer from the heat blooming in succession.

“Kill the mage first!”

A man who charged while shouting boldly was quickly engulfed in flames.

Erik didn’t care how many charged at him.

Even if all remaining people united and charged together, he swung his steel club with a smile.

Pernok carefully observed their appearance like moths diving into flames.

Mana took form, painted color, and flew.

Fire completing in empty air without oil.

A special power unexplainable by common sense.

‘Is it possible?’

Pernok had completed unique powers by handling spiritual power in the Netherworld.

Spiritual Law.

An omnipotent power only Pernok could use.

Within it contained the authority that subdued the Netherworld’s absolute beings.

Soul Discernment that observed opponents’ souls to predict their potential and movements.

Soul Strike that directly dealt blows to souls to lower their rank.

However, there was a separate authority the absolute beings found most troublesome.

Spiritual Law – Divine Mandate.

All life had special names dwelling in their souls.

Pernok called this ‘talent,’ and by absorbing the target’s spiritual power, he made it his own.

In other words, Divine Mandate was.

Robbing the talent dwelling in opponents’ souls.

Special constitutions or bloodline successions inherited through generations only to the ‘body,’ or skills completed through postnatal effort, didn’t apply to Divine Mandate.

It had to be engraved in the ‘soul’ from birth.

‘Divine Mandate wouldn’t only activate in the Netherworld. I can use Observation Eye faintly too.’

In the Netherworld, he’d dominated with overwhelming spiritual power, pressing down opponents to dominate their souls’ talents.

‘The absorption method is the same anyway. It’s worth trying.’

Kill and rob.

Even if he failed, he could absorb spiritual power, so there was no loss.

“Hahahaha! At least struggle before you die, you vermin!”

Pernok aimed his medium sword at Erik, who pushed in like a tyrant.

Thanks to absorbing the spiritual power of those killed by Erik, his body condition was gradually improving.

Synchronization Rate – 6%

As the synchronization rate rose, he could draw one more thin thread of spiritual power.

The Observation Eye had grown to grasp even the flow of opponents’ breathing seeping into muscles.

He should be able to predict magic of that speed in advance and deflect it sufficiently.

“Hoooo.”

Pernok tensed and relaxed his muscles.

Blood flow rushed quickly through his body, but there was no stinging feeling in his chest.

Ataka was a transcendent secret technique born to kill monsters humans couldn’t face with their bodies alone.

Currently, he could only use one explosive acceleration, but that alone was enough.

He’d long hunted greenhorns who clumsily acted up believing only in their own power.

Pernok’s thighs expanded, and the blood vessels on the backs of both hands gripping the medium sword connected clearly to his shoulders.

The moment his entire body tensed like a bowstring.

“Kyaaaak!”

Simultaneously with someone’s scream bursting, Pernok kicked off the ground.

Pernok split the flames erected like a barrier in half and charged through the heat-filled arena.