—

When Kieran’s Macabre Animosity appeared, Bracca was instantly plunged into a world of darkness saturated with death-inducing circumstances of the vilest nature.

His body froze on the stage, trembling in abject horror, but his mind wasn’t as frozen.

‘W-… What is this?’ Bracca muttered, his usually savage tone growing meek as a dreadful fear crept upon him.

Within two seconds, his sclera turned bloodshot, and blood began seeping from his eye sockets as Bracca dropped to his knees.

Although he was the only person inside this bleak world Kieran’s Macabre Animosity created, he couldn’t help but feel like something was pulling him towards death.

Inside that world, his body began to decay and fade, but in the next moment, it was rebirthed, creating a cruel cycle of torment that became a massive burden on his psyche.

In the real world, less than three seconds had passed, but Bracca felt like he had lived through countless deaths that spanned an eternity. The burden on his mind became so great that his eyes began to roll back while his cheeks grew pale and concave.

Throughout this process, Kieran approached him with a deliberate gait.

“You decided to mess with the wrong opponent. Never judge a book by its cover because you can never truly tell what’s hidden between the pages. Let this be a lesson to you,” Kieran said in an icy tone.

Bracca couldn’t hear his remark in the real world, but because Kieran was the warden of that macabre space, his voice resonated throughout, searing directly into his mind. It would become an experience Bracca would never forget.

Kieran released his Soul Manifestation and paled, but he didn’t stop his actions, placing his hand against Bracca’s chest and unleashing a sudden Wrath Eruption.

Due to the force funneled into the attack, Bracca slammed into the coliseum’s fence on the other side of the platform.

Once that happened, Kieran stood there calmly, holding his trusted Crimson Ashrune in hand.

At that moment, his back seemed unusually wide, and his shoulders seemed capable of upholding the world despite his currently pale countenance.

Introducing the True Berserker’s mutilation style and a Soul Manifestation left the crowd in awe. However, to ensure the viewers were left in suspense, he disabled the audio for the time being.

He didn’t want them to hear the chants regarding his Soul Manifestation because while he revealed it, it was still a power far beyond any ordinary player’s grasp. It wasn’t something they should seek for the time being.

Once the chants subsided, the atmosphere grew tense for quite some time. Even Ronan looked at Kieran in slight disbelief, unaware he possessed something like a Soul Trait.

‘Things would have transpired differently if he revealed such formidable power. Part of me wishes he did because I’m left with a what-if. Perhaps we’ll rectify this issue in the future,’ Ronan thought to himself.

Had he known Kieran possessed a Soul Trait, at the very least, he would have revealed a power he comprehended not too long ago.

However, what would Ronan’s response be if he learned that Kieran possessed another frightening ability that shouldn’t belong to an Intermediate Being? Surely he’d demand a rematch at some point to determine Kieran’s actual limits.

What he displayed before Ronan was a false limit, achieved by honing his skills in another direction.

Finally, after almost thirty seconds of complete silence, General Zieg approached Kieran and raised his right hand with a triumphant expression. “The winner of the 1,108th Annual Gladiator’s Coliseum has been crowned! A round of applause for our winner—Aatrox, Inheritor of the Berserk Path, under the direct tutelage of Commander Scar!”

“Aatrox!”

“Congratulations!”

“Long live Commander Scar!”

“Damn, what a dark horse. Who would have thought someone with such a wide difference in level possessed such frightening power? My eyes have been opened. I’ve learned to be less judgmental.”

Amidst the comments, General Zieg turned to Kieran and asked a question. “Would you like to speak any words?”

“Sure,” Kieran nodded, somewhat disregarding General Zieg’s question.

Kieran took a step and glanced up in a particular direction with a faint smirk. “Master Scar, it seems as if I have won that bet. I want rewards with haste. After all, it’s thanks to your training that I revealed such an outstanding performance.”

Scar grimaced and looked around bitterly when he noticed many eyes turned toward him, some bearing gawking expressions. Kieran’s words were too direct, painting him in a horrible light.

How many people would engage in a bet with their pupils? Wasn’t that a sign of irresponsibility?

Some people looked at Scar scornfully, wondering if he was a person fit to be a master.

Nevertheless, Scar cleared his throat and spoke clearly despite the onlookers. “Oh? Are you sure? But you haven’t even joined the special round yet. How can you claim that you have fulfilled your part of the deal?”

Kieran frowned as his expression grew dark. ‘Damn you, Scar! I’ve been had again. I didn’t notice it before, but he skillfully changed his words before he finalized our bet.’

Only now did Kieran realize how Scar switched to extremely vague wording. Scar didn’t say Kieran had to achieve first place and win the competition; he asked that Kieran uphold their legacy to the fullest extent.

Because Kieran didn’t understand this wording, he thought nothing of it. Who would have thought there was a supposed special round?

With a frown, Kieran turned toward General Zieg for confirmation.

Upon noticing Kieran’s expression, General Zieg helplessly nodded. “Scar’s words are the truth. A special round is extended to the winner of the annual competition—double jeopardy if you will.”

A double jeopardy round meant that, should Kieran accept to partake in the special round, Kieran would risk leaving this place with no points. But, if he emerged victorious, he would double his points, which after claiming first place, ballooned to 932,540.

If he triumphed over this round, Kieran would end up with over 1.8 million points, available to use inside the War Deity Exchange.

Furthermore, these points were separate from the unique opportunity he had already acquired from claiming first place.

Kieran’s desire for Scar’s Esoteric Skill and his curiosity toward the unique round overwhelmed his reason, leading him to make a reckless decision. “I’d like to challenge the special round if that’s the case.”

General Zieg revealed a bitter smile after looking at Kieran’s current condition. After using Vim Restoration several times, his body was littered with minor contusions and abrasions, some directly resulting from his destructive fighting style.

“Are you sure that is a wise decision? If you lose, you will forfeit all of the points in your possession. However, you’ll retain your right to experience the special opportunity,” General Zieg voiced, expressing his concern for Kieran’s well-being.

Based on the abilities he displayed thus far, General Zieg wouldn’t be surprised if Kieran was on the verge of collapse—any normal person would. Unfortunately, Kieran was far from ordinary.

Despite General Zieg’s concern, Kieran resolutely nodded. “I am sure.”

‘I’ve heard rumors of the exchange. My current points may seem like a lot, but they mean nothing when looking at the useful items. If I want to stumble across anything of worthwhile value, I suspect anything below 1.5 million points will not do.’

Since many contestants forfeited the final round, an insane amount of points were voided, leaving many points to vanish from the competition.

If not for Ronan’s presence, the number of people that vied for the top spot would have significantly increased.

After Kieran accepted the challenge, General Zieg bought two fingers to his mouth and emitted a strange, ear-piercing whistle.

A subtle tremor followed a few seconds after.

The source of the tremor was two individuals approaching the arena.

One seemed to be a young man between the age of 24 to 28. They possessed a thick head of yellowish-brown hair and ferocious orange eyes, eerily reminiscent of a lion. The young man wore heavy armor with hints of red, tan, and gold, giving off a heavy feeling.

A large belt wrapped around the individual’s waist with a roaring lion pressed on a massive buckle. It covered a considerable portion of the man’s waist.

Next to the man was another hulking figure dressed in thin black armor. The slender design gave off the feeling of a demonic knight as a pair of fierce grey eyes shined underneath a pointed helmet with a long white tassel.

“High Commander Igris, Thrax,” General Zieg greeted.

High Commander Igris swept his gaze toward Kieran, bothered by what he saw. “My champion is to go against the likes of him? In such a battered state? When had the special round become a circus show? I didn’t expect you to extend the custom to someone that didn’t achieve an overwhelming victory.”

General Zieg frowned deeply, but it quickly faded as he decided not to quarrel with High Commander Igris. “Customs are customs. The newcomer will go against the previous year’s champion in the special round. This year, it is named the Herculean Round by the right of your champion. Whether or not you wish to partake in it isn’t up to you. Rules must be followed.”

High Commander Igris scoffed. “A waste of our time.”

However, High Commander Igris couldn’t disregard the customs, or he would risk punishment from a High General.

High Commander Igris walked to Thrax and whispered in his ear using a skillful concealment technique. “Waste him as soon as the round begins. This farce is ridiculous. As long as you make a move within the round, they can’t penalize you.”