Chapter 15: The Danek Arena (1)
Leeward walked with a light, steady tread, never looking back. He knew in his heart that he was being followed, yet throughout the journey, no harm had come to him.
He subtly deployed his **Spiritual Field** over his skin, spreading it like a transparent veil to sense any spiritual ambush or hidden trap. There are powers the naked eye cannot perceive—threats that only the soul can catch, feeling the danger before it manifests physically.
He maintained a facade of indifference. The blood dried beneath his toenails remained unwashed; he knew that cleaning it now might stir more suspicion than it would dispel. He left it as it was. After all, who would suspect that the blood between a man's toes was proof that he had plundered a vast fortune from the heart of a massacre?
Even if questioned, his lie was ready: a minor accident, blood from a slaughtered animal, or mere sores between the toes.
Reflecting deeply, he wondered if he was overthinking... though, in truth, the situation was far beyond the capacity of a First-Rank Ascendant—Body and Soul, Transition Tier.
*"I have finally reached the Danek Arena. I doubt whoever is following me will find any evidence here. I am certain it is the same person from the Spirit Water shop... that individual from the Royal Sharman family."*
He whispered to himself as he looked ahead. He stood in the middle of a paved street lined with white concrete buildings. Behind him was an empty road; before him rose the massive structure of the Danek Arena.
It was a colossal, circular building reaching nearly seven meters into the sky, painted in a cold, earthy brown. Its walls were engraved with depictions of Ascendants on horseback in fierce combat, surrounded by intricate carvings that amplified its majestic aura.
He climbed three wide stone steps and crossed the white pavement toward a massive dark wood gate, guarded by two sentries.
"Entry fee, please," the guard on the right stopped him, demanding the symbolic tax.
Leeward was penniless at the moment, lacking even this meager fee. He met the guard's gaze with cold eyes. "I am an Ascendant. I am here to fight, not to watch."
The rules for spectators did not apply to combatants. Upon entering, Ascendants signed a contract acknowledging that their death—should it occur—was their own responsibility. This legal safeguard protected **Haigy Refil Monoth**, the arena's owner, from any retribution by the victims' families.
The guards opened the gate. One of them accompanied Leeward inside to ensure he actually registered as a fighter and wasn't just a spectator trying to bypass the fee.
*I doubt he's actually an Ascendant; he doesn't look the part,* the guard thought, wary of a potential deception.
The inner hall was vast, with several branching doors. The guard led Leeward to a side iron gate and stood aside as Leeward entered. The room resembled a warehouse: rows of weapons, long wooden benches, and a registration desk.
"It seems there aren't many Ascendants today," Leeward muttered, noting only two other fighters preparing in silence.
"Of course," the guard laughed loudly. "No one wants to sacrifice their life against the beast being unleashed today. Have you decided to withdraw yet?"
Leeward ignored him. He walked straight to the registration desk, where a pale maid stood. She carefully placed a white sheet before him.
"Your name, sir. Sign here. Your rank must not exceed Second-Rank (Solid Warrior). Also, sign the liability waiver."
The waiver was blunt: should he die inside the pit, the management bore no responsibility. Leeward gripped the pen, his eyes scanning the room with feigned nonchalance. He noted an unguarded back door and bags of silver tucked behind the desk.
He wrote an alias: **"Tok Nem."** He recorded his rank and signed with a generic, unremarkable flourish.
The maid's voice was a monotonous drone as she explained:
"The reward for winning and assisting in the kill is 30 silver pieces. If you deliver the killing blow, it's 40 pieces. If you emerge alive and unscathed, you get 15. If you survive but with injuries, 10. You may go and prepare yourself, Mr. Tok Nem."
The guard from the entrance exited, casting one last cold glance at Leeward before slamming the iron door shut. The heavy metallic thud echoed through the chamber.
Leeward sat on one of the wooden benches, looking toward the outer gate made of thick metal bars. Beyond them lay the vast pit. From the other side, the roar of the crowd echoed like crashing waves—hungry for excitement and blood.
*"I must focus on the fight... 40 silver pieces would be a great start,"* he thought, leaning down to tightly lace his sturdy black boots. *"But I'm not just here for the money. I must find a way to mislead the person following me. He is surely watching this match."*
Leeward rose, shedding his black cloak. He selected a light silver chestplate that wouldn't hinder his agility, a well-balanced sword, and a medium-sized shield. He capped his attire with a helm that sat firmly on his head. In this gear, he looked like an ancient Roman gladiator, stepping straight out of history into this blood-soaked arena.
He sheathed his sword and stepped toward the exit, where the other two Ascendants stood, their gazes sharp and restless.
"By the way, my name is Night," one of them whispered.
"Who cares?" Leeward replied with a chilling calm. "All that matters is killing the beast waiting for us out there."
The other Ascendant, whose name was Ellen, let out a dry laugh. "He's right. Names don't matter. A massive crowd has gathered to watch this because it's a fight against a rare, powerful monster. And since there are only three of us today, our only focus should be coming out of this alive."
Silence fell over them as they stared at the two guards standing before the iron-barred gate. Then, with a sharp metallic screech, the gate swung open.
"Are you ready?" the announcer's voice boomed from the stadium, mingled with the roar of a crowd hungry for carnage. "We wish you luck and success!" the guards said in a synchronized drone.
Leeward moved first, his steps rhythmic and steady.
"Behold with excitement! The match even the rulers have been waiting for!" the announcer's voice thundered through an **Ether Piece** that acted as a spiritual megaphone, amplifying his words into a chaotic roar. "Three Ascendants against an amphibious nightmare... the Sea Beast, **Kalvin**!"
"Damn, this is making me nervous," Night muttered, his anxiety palpable.
As Leeward passed the guards, they paused to paint his fighter number onto the back of his armor in thick black paint: **Number One—"Tok Nem."** Night and Ellen were numbered Two and Three respectively.
The trio stepped out into the pit. The arena was a vast, circular expanse of dust, surrounded by stands packed with screaming spectators. Flags fluttered, voices blurred into a cacophony, and bets were being placed in every corner.
And on the far side... stood the Beast.
It was bound by massive chains driven deep into the earth. Its legs resembled a kangaroo's, but were devoid of skin—exposed bone covered in coarse, skeletal scales. Its upper torso boasted six octopus-like tentacles that writhed with sickening slowness. In its chest, a massive vertical mouth gaped open, filled with razor-sharp white fangs dripping with thick slime.
As for its head, four bulging eyes stared out from its skull, radiating a silent horror. There was no mouth on its face—the blank space where a mouth should be was more terrifying than anything else.
This was the **Kalvin Beast**—an amphibious predator that dwelled in the depths, surfacing only to hunt humans.
"A battle against a beast that has claimed countless lives! A Second-Rank Kalvin Beast!" the announcer screamed hysterically. "Prepare yourselves! Your minds are about to blow! Featuring three Ascendants: Number One, Tok Nem! Number Two, Night! Number Three, Ellen!"
High in the back rows of the stands, **Kante Sharman** sat, his red hair vivid against the shadows. He watched the pit with predatory eyes. *"So, his name is Tok Nem. I lack enough evidence to prove he stole the treasure, but I will track him for a while until I am certain."* The dried blood on the man's feet wasn't enough to condemn him yet.
Suddenly—
The Kalvin Beast let out a deafening shriek, and the very earth shook. **CLANG!** The heavy chains shattered, falling to the ground with a thunderous impact. The beast surged forward, its skeletal legs carrying it with terrifying speed toward the three men.
*"Those tentacles will be a problem... but not as much as the poison it carries,"* Leeward thought, a faint smile touching his lips. He added silently: *"But at the same time, what a stroke of luck this is..."*
---