Welcome, everyone, to the Sixty-First King of Combat Festival. Today, I, Salakriffin Sfin Riole, Master of the Death Arena, shall preside over these proceedings.
Salakriffin ascended the glittering main stage with an imposing stride.
From his lofty position, he cast an arrogant gaze upon the packed audience in the four rings.
His voice, though calm and devoid of any amplification, effortlessly reached the ears of every single person present.
“Roar!”
“Long live!”
The audience’s response was a fervent outpouring of cheers.
“Then let the revelry begin.”
Seemingly pleased with the crowd’s reaction, Salakriffin’s lips curled into a subtle arc.
He raised a hand, quelling the surging cheers.
His magnetic and enchanting voice resonated through the arena, its echoes lingering long after.
****
“Boss, the format for the first round has been announced!”
In the East District preparation hall, Keane pushed through the throng, rushing frantically towards You’er.
His expression was grim and etched with fear.
“Tell me.”
Seeing Keane’s face, You’er had already braced himself.
“It’s a free-for-all! A terrifying, massive free-for-all!” Keane stammered, his voice trembling.
“A free-for-all? What do you mean by that, Keane? Explain it clearly.”
Veron, who had been approaching, interjected.
Those in his path instinctively made way; Veron was now arguably the second-in-command of the East District.
With his strength as a mid-tier swordsman, none could match him save for You’er.
The anguish of losing his brother had driven Veron to train and grow with all his might over the past year, propelling him to his current formidable level.
“It’s exactly as it sounds,” Keane said, gritting his teeth to suppress his inner fear.
“Ten people will be drawn from each of the four districts for a large-scale free-for-all!”
“Only the last five standing will survive; everyone else…”
Keane trailed off, unable to continue, yet You’er and the others understood his unspoken implication perfectly.
“So… who are the chosen ones?”
Even Veron felt a chill creep down his spine at the thought of such a terrifying gladiatorial mode.
This format harbored an overwhelming amount of lethal intent; with forty participants and only five survivors, every single person in the arena would become an enemy, fighting to the death, with no alliances or regional distinctions.
“It’s… it’s not clear yet,” Keane stammered, his words barely coherent through his trembling.
“But I think… it should be soon…”
At that very moment, Salakriffin’s voice once again echoed from the top of the four rings.
“Now, I shall announce the list of participants for the first martial arts festival —”
“North District: Number 2, Number 6, Number 43, Number 45… Number 160!”
“South District: Number 2, Number 9, Number 13, Number 51… Number 177!”
“West District: Number 2, Number 5, Number 19, Number 37… Number 149!”
“East District: Number 2, Number 4, Number 6, Number 15… Number 230!”
“Whoosh!”
A wave of uproar swept through the four rings as the forty participants were announced.
The numbers were simply too “coincidental,” weren’t they?
All four second-in-commands from the major districts had been drawn!
“Oh heavens! It’s… it’s me…!”
“No! I don’t want to die! Please, spare me, spare me! I’ll never commit evil again!”
“Please, everyone, someone take my place! I’ll give them all my possessions, all of them!”
“…”
Below the four rings, in the four preparation halls, a chorus of wails and lamentations erupted.
Ten people drawn from a single district—this was no joke at all!
“Veron, do you have confidence?”
The East District’s assembly hall was also filled with mournful cries, yet You’er, accustomed to such sights, remained indifferent.
He turned to Veron, his face serious, and asked.
Only for these few close friends by his side did You’er not wish for misfortune to befall them.
“If it were just me, it shouldn’t be a problem, but taking them along…”
Veron glanced at the several people behind him, their faces etched with despair and terror.
“It doesn’t matter! You don’t need to worry about them; just ensure your own survival!” You’er stated, his expression impassive.
Few of those who came here were worthy of sympathy.
“This… very well.” Veron sighed.
“Old friend, may you return victorious!”
Keane embraced Veron.
“I will.” Veron replied, his face resolute.
Not long after, a squad of high-ranking guards arrived, escorting the ten individuals, including Veron, into the arena.
Even the several-hundred-meter-wide arena now seemed cramped in the face of the forty combatants.
Every person within it tried their utmost to distance themselves from others, for the remaining thirty-nine were all their enemies!
Moreover, they were enemies locked in a fight to the death!
The shadow of death loomed immensely, paralyzing the forty scattered figures in the arena, preventing them from making any move for a long time.
Even the second-in-commands were hesitant, for the reason was simple: the first to act would likely face a coordinated assault or a sneak attack.
In this tense, charged atmosphere, Salakriffin’s cold words rang out.
“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” Salakriffin added, “you only have three hours for your performance. If no clear victor emerges within that time, heheh.”
Salakriffin’s words acted like a potent catalyst.
The moment they washed over Veron and the other forty, the crimson flowers of bloodshed burst into bloom!
“Roar!”
“Kill!”
“All of you, just die! Die, die, die!”
“…”
The forty combatants, like a pack of frenzied beasts, tangled together, slaughtering each other indiscriminately.
The scene was horrifyingly bloody and gruesome!
Naturally, the most outstanding performers were the four district second-in-commands, including Veron.
They faced no worthy opponents, cutting through the masses like reapers, leaving a trail of severed heads and mangled limbs in their wake.
Soon, an unexpected scene unfolded.
The remaining twenty-odd individuals from the four districts formed an alliance, banding together to launch a concentrated assault on Veron and the other three.
As the saying goes, two fists are no match for four hands, and even a multitude of ants can fell an elephant.
The current second-in-command of the South District, being weaker, became the first of the ‘strong ones’ to fall, dying a truly horrific death.
Indeed, every single person who perished in this massacre met a wretched end; dying with one’s body intact was considered the luckiest fate.
Losing an ‘ally’ instantly intensified the pressure on Veron and the remaining two.
Soon, the second and third second-in-commands fell to sneak attacks, hailing from the West and North Districts respectively.
Ironically, they both died at the hands of those who should have been their ‘comrades’!
Veron, the last remaining, proved unexpectedly resilient.
No matter how many more sword and blade wounds accumulated on his body, no matter how much more blood flowed from his injuries, he simply refused to fall.
With the stained greatsword in his hand, he cut down the attackers one by one!
Until only four individuals remained among them…
“Do you still wish to continue?”
Veron regarded the four individuals before him with indifference.
He recognized all four as being from the East District, which was why he had shown them some leniency, allowing them to survive until the very end.
“I’m… I’m sorry… Brother Veron! We… we…”
Realizing their situation, the four looked around at the hellish scene, the demonic impulse within them finally beginning to recede.
They cast aside their weapons, collapsed weakly to their knees, and wept loudly.
“Alas…”
In the East District hall, You’er watched the unfolding events through the iron window lattice, shaking his head and sighing, filled with helplessness and sorrow.
Even though he had prepared himself mentally, You’er’s heart was still deeply affected.
‘It was right not to let Noelle Noah come today,’ You’er thought to himself.
He truly did not wish for the kind-hearted Noelle Noah to witness such a dark and terrifying spectacle.