Chapter 60

Rifregon (4)

Amidst the roars echoing from all sides, the woman stood with a blank expression, letting the sword in her hand hang loosely.

She was completely unarmed, just like the slaves who had come before, with no armor and only a weapon. The man standing opposite her was in the same situation.

The man swung his mace wildly, glaring at her with a fierce look, as if trying to muster his fighting spirit.

"Who do you think will win?"

The Tyrant asked me, his voice oddly excited.

For the first time, he brought up something related to the match after spouting nonsense.

I glanced at him once, then turned my gaze back to the arena and replied.

"The woman will win."

He turned to me with a strange look and chuckled.

"You’re so sure? Are you confident?"

I didn’t bother to answer.

【Lv. 43】

【Lv. 42】

I wasn’t entirely confident.

A one-level difference in the 40s wasn’t that significant.

The woman had a higher chance of winning, but the gap was enough for variables to occur.

'But still...'

For some reason, it didn’t seem like those variables would happen.

It was just a gut feeling.

I stared intently at the two gladiators standing face to face.

- Alright, then... let the match begin!

As soon as the match started, the man hurled his mace straight at the woman.

She dodged by twisting her body and moved closer. The man skillfully retracted his mace and swung it again.

He didn’t give her any space, relentlessly swinging his heavy mace. The spikes on the mace grazed the woman’s body, drawing blood.

She narrowly avoided the relentless attacks and kept trying to get close to her opponent. She moved boldly and recklessly, as if she didn’t mind taking a hit.

"Damn bitch...!"

The man was the one being overwhelmed.

He desperately gripped his mace and struck forcefully.

The woman suddenly lowered her stance, dodged the attack, and wrapped her sword around the chain connected to the mace, then yanked it hard.

The man lost his grip on the mace. She threw away her sword, which was entangled in the chain, and drew another sword from her waist, charging forward.

The man, who had hastily drawn his sword, countered her attack.

A brief duel ensued. Even I, who knew nothing about swordsmanship, could tell that the woman was clearly the more skilled one.

The man was struggling to keep up with her aggressive strikes and could only defend himself.

Swish!

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the man’s arm was severed.

He let out a blood-curdling scream, lost his balance, and fell to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Please, spare me! Please!"

The man, who had no time to writhe in pain, pleaded desperately.

"I have younger siblings waiting at home! They’ll all die without me! Please...!"

His words were cut short.

The man’s head, which had flown into the air, rolled on the ground.

The woman, who had wiped the blood off her sword, stood there with a cold, unfeeling expression, catching her breath.

She didn’t spare a glance at the man’s corpse or the crowd, turned around, and walked straight to the exit.

The crowd, who usually jeered at matches that ended anticlimactically, jeered again, but this time their cheers were just as loud.

"Haha! As expected, Rif is the best!"

"What’s so great? She was more fun when she was rolling around at the bottom. These days, she just ends everything so anticlimactically."

"Still, there’s no one left in the 5th Tier to challenge her, right? She’ll probably challenge the Champion soon?"

"Nah, even if she does, she’s not ready for the Champion yet..."

The crowd’s conversation reached my ears.

The Tyrant said admiringly,

"You were right."

"..."

He stared intently at the woman leaving the arena with a strange look, then asked me,

"Well, 7th Lord, did you enjoy the match?"

I spoke softly.

"Is this entertaining?"

The guy chuckled, as if expecting my reaction.

"Maybe?"

"..."

"Even the struggle of insects has its own charm. They fight desperately to survive, bite and tear at each other, and ultimately despair. It’s a light amusement to watch occasionally... Well, I see you don’t understand. Hehe."

The other Lords were all like that.

After adding that, the guy yawned and got up from his seat.

"There are a few more matches left, but do you want to keep watching?"

His tone suggested he had seen enough.

I shook my head and got up.

"Alright, let’s call it a day. The slave I’m looking for can be guided by this guy."

He pointed to one of his subordinates standing at the back, a man with a scruffy beard and a stern expression.

"It was nice meeting you, 7th Lord. I’ll be going ahead."

He said this, waved, and walked away, his subordinates following behind.

I stared at his retreating back, then shifted my gaze to the man who remained.

He bowed politely and spoke.

"I’m Gilrock, the warden. I heard you’re looking for a slave in the prison. Please tell me, and I’ll bring them to you."

I glanced down again.

The woman’s figure had already disappeared beyond the exit.

In the still-warm arena, only a pool of blood and a single corpse remained.

***

Gilrock said he would bring the slave I was looking for, but I decided to go to the prison myself.

The corridor was filled with a mix of revolting odors.

As I walked ahead, passing the iron bars where slaves were locked up, I asked him,

"The woman who fought in the last match, her name is Rif, right?"

Gilrock answered with a puzzled look.

"Yes, that’s correct."

I asked him again,

"Does she have any connection to the 6th Lord?"

I had been curious about this.

The Tyrant, who showed no interest in other matches, seemed particularly intrigued by hers.

The match itself wasn’t particularly special.

While it was better than the previous ones, it was just a 40s level match, and to the guy, they all probably looked the same.

So, it wasn’t the match but the woman herself that he was interested in...

He hesitated, his face slightly stiff, as if confirming my guess.

"Is it a difficult story to tell?"

"No."

"Then tell me."

Under my urging, he began to speak.

"Her younger brother is addicted to the 6th Lord’s blood magic."

"Addicted?"

I immediately understood.

The 6th Lord’s blood magic, addiction.

'...He’s talking about the Hemorrhagic Fever.'

The 6th Lord’s unique blood magic was as cruel as his nature.

His blood magic amplifies physical abilities.

But when pushed to the extreme and enters a berserk state, he emits a blood mist. The problem is that anyone who comes into contact with the mist loses their sanity and goes berserk, burning their life force.

This is why it’s called a disease.

Even if they survive the berserk state, the 6th Lord’s blood remains in their body.

Living with this is like carrying a time bomb, a life that is already as good as dead.

'That’s why he’s a disaster incarnate.'

The 6th Lord is called the worst vampire not just because of his evil nature but also because of his abilities.

I recalled that in the game, some cities and villages had been destroyed in the past due to his abilities.

Those with even a little magic power or a strong will could resist, but for ordinary civilians, it was impossible.

"The champion gladiator is granted one wish by the 6th Lord. That’s why she became a gladiator in Actipol."

"..."

A short explanation, but it answered all my questions.

Her brother had Hemorrhagic Fever, and if she became the champion, she could ask the 6th Lord for one wish.

So, she became a gladiator to become the champion and ask for a cure for her brother.

A new question arose naturally.

"Who is the current champion?"

"It’s me."

...What?

When I looked at him, Gilrock repeated,

"I am the current champion of Actipol."

"Didn’t you say you were the warden of this prison just now?"

"Yes, I requested to manage the slave prison as my wish, so I also hold the position of warden."

Ah, that’s it.

I was a bit confused and asked,

"Why specifically the warden? There are much better positions available."

Even with a wish, there would be limits, but he could have obtained enough wealth to live comfortably for life or a knight’s position in the Lord’s castle.

I remembered that in the game, there was a knight in the 6th Lord’s castle who was a former champion of Actipol.

He was silent for a moment, then answered gruffly,

"At the time, I had no other desires. I was just living because I couldn’t die, and I wanted to improve the conditions of the slaves I lived with, so I became the warden."

"..."

I was a bit surprised by the unexpected reason.

Actipol, a place where people with their lives in the gutter gather.

In a place where someone must die in a match every day, it’s impossible for camaraderie to form. Yet, he became the warden to improve the conditions of the slaves.

This was enough to gauge the kind of person Gilrock was.

I walked silently without further conversation.

My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the woman named Rif.

'She’s trying to become the champion to cure her brother’s disease...'

【Lv. 48】

I felt a sense of unease.

It wasn’t because Gilrock’s level was much higher than hers.

Even if she defeated Gilrock and became the champion...

As far as I knew, there was only one way to cure Hemorrhagic Fever.

The death of the Blood King, the source of the disease.

Nothing else could cure it.

That’s why no one who had contracted Hemorrhagic Fever and survived had ever been cured.

'...Well, it’s not my problem.'

I just needed to take the man named Ban, as per Gulpi’s request.

After that, I would have no more business in the 6th Lord’s territory or Actipol.

Soon, Gilrock stopped in front of an iron cell.

Several slaves were sprawled out haphazardly inside the dark cell.

"Open the door."

"Yes."

Creak.

At Gilrock’s command, a guard opened the cell door.

He pointed to a young man crouched in the corner, hugging his knees.

"This is Ban."

Ban looked at us with eyes full of fear.

He had clearly been beaten, with scabs and bruises all over his face.

"Are you Ban, who ran a fruit shop?"

"Y-Yes, yes, that’s me."

I gestured to him.

"Come out. I’ll release you."

***

In the outer corridor of the arena.

Gilrock, who had just come out of the prison, stopped when he saw a woman walking towards him from the opposite direction.

However, the woman only glanced at him and kept walking.

Watching her pass, Gilrock spoke.

"Is your brother doing okay?"

She stopped in her tracks.

Turning her head, she stared at Gilrock with a cold, icy gaze.

Gilrock fumbled for words, then sighed and said,

"Don’t challenge for the champion’s position, Rif."

"..."

"You can’t beat me. I don’t want to kill you. And even if you win, the 6th Lord will definitely... "

"Shut up."

Rif growled savagely, turned around, and continued on her way.

Watching her retreating figure, Gilrock sighed again.

He looked up at the sky and muttered,

"...This is a mess, really."