A Disaster-Level Assassin Has Been Freed

Chapter 96: Underground Arena (2)

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“…”

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After the examiner left, the 100 participants in the second basement waiting room stood dumbfounded, glancing around.

It was understandable.

I was alone, but there were 99 enemies to face.

Acting rashly could make me the target of everyone’s attacks.

‘No need to move first. The best strategy is preserving my stamina. Let the others thin the numbers.’

‘I need to stay as unnoticed as possible. That’s the baseline.’

‘If I think smarter… yeah, instigating the dimwits would be good.’

‘Control the brainless ones to attack the top contenders and knock them out!’

A few quick thinkers reached similar conclusions.

They began quietly goading the less intelligent with subtle voices to avoid drawing attention.

“Hey, you.”

“What, what! We’re rivals. I don’t have time to chat…”

“I know. But do we really need to fight each other?”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean…”

“Five. Only five can pass. Do you think you can be in the top five among this crowd? Honestly, I don’t. I’ll probably fail.”

“Y-you bastard. What are you getting at…”

“But what if we do this?”

The cunning participant glanced toward one side.

It was where Bloodbath, Ashheap, Ironhammer, and Ulrik stood.

People who’d gained some fame before entering the arena or exuded an extraordinary aura.

Everyone thought they were the most likely to pass.

The dimwit, with a brain like a fish, thought the same.

‘Those three… and that impressive-looking guy nearby make four. That leaves 96 of us fighting for one spot. Even for me, that’s tough…’

That was the fish-brained man’s honest thought.

Then, the cunning participant made a tempting offer.

“Let’s gang up on them first.”

“What?”

“Rush them together. No matter how strong they are, they can’t beat a mob. Right? Over 90 of us against them—how could they win?”

“…”

“How’s that? Tempting, isn’t it?”

It was indeed tempting.

A 96-to-1 fight had near-zero odds, but eliminating the four top contenders first made it 96-to-5.

The odds of passing skyrocketed.

After painstakingly calculating this, the fish-brained man nodded, entranced.

The cunning participant, smiling, patted his shoulder and added.

“Good. Spread the word to the others. Let’s team up to take down the strong ones first. It’s our only shot at passing. I’m trusting you because you seem reliable.”

“Leave it to me.”

Huffing excitedly, the fish-brained man began rallying others.

He wasn’t alone.

Others, reaching similar conclusions, started casting sharp glances at Bloodbath and the other top contenders.

“The mood’s turning ugly.”

“No kidding.”

“Hmm.”

“…”

Naturally, Bloodbath and the other strong ones sensed the shift.

They couldn’t miss the growing attention focused on them.

Ashheap ground his teeth, fearing an unfair elimination.

Ulrik, rolling his eyes at the unexpected turn, maintained his impressive demeanor—his lifeline.

Then, Ironhammer, who’d been quietly thinking, spoke.

“Hey! Bloodbath, Ashheap, and… what’s your name?”

“…Ulrik. Swordsman Ulrik.”

“Right, you too. I think we’re the best candidates here… but the mood’s bad. Some sneaky bastards are plotting to take us down first.”

“Seems so.”

“Damn rats.”

“…”

Everyone nodded, agreeing with Ironhammer.

Feeling the consensus, he nodded once and continued.

“So, how about we team up?”

“Act as a team?”

“Yeah. Only five pass. If we crush these bastards together, we can all be happy.”

“Hmm.”

“Not bad.”

Bloodbath showed a positive expression, and Ashheap eagerly agreed.

Ulrik’s face brightened too.

Though unexpected, teaming with strong contenders was encouraging.

‘Good. Now I just need to sweet-talk them into including Harang. Then the five of us can pass easily…’

Before he finished the thought, Ironhammer, who’d led the talk, made another suggestion.

“First, let’s establish dominance.”

“Dominance?”

“Yeah. Show these trash they can’t mess with us. Pick an easy target and crush their skull in one hit. That’ll change the mood.”

“Good idea. So, whose skull?”

Bloodbath asked, and Ironhammer pointed.

At me.

“That guy over there. Acting all tough despite being a nobody.”

“Nice.”

“I’m in. I’ll do it.”

‘No! This can’t happen!’

Ulrik screamed inwardly.

His skills were mediocre, but his eye for people was sharp.

To him, Ashheap, volunteering to go first, was a strong contender who could easily reach the arena’s sixth floor.

‘Even if Harang’s impressive for his age, Ashheap’s too much… Damn, what do I do?’

Our bond wasn’t long.

But he’d saved my life.

Ulrik couldn’t stand by as death reached for me.

He had to do something, say something to change their minds.

But Ashheap moved faster.

Striding toward me, he glared and spoke.

“Sorry. I need a big impact, so I’m going to kill you.”

“Kill me?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit much, but… this is Kalbaron, right? Understand. Or don’t, doesn’t matter.”

Ashheap spat cruel words without blinking.

His fist shot toward me at blinding speed.

Boom!

A skull exploded like it was hit by a magic missile.

Splatter, blood, bone, and brain matter sprayed, staining the participants’ skin and clothes.

A shocking sight.

But the real shock was something else.

The exploded skull wasn’t mine.

It belonged to Ashheap, the man known as “Ashheap,” who’d attacked me.

“…Huh?”

“What the…?”

“…”

People couldn’t process it.

Bloodbath, Ironhammer, and Ulrik were the most shocked.

They knew Ashheap’s skill better than anyone.

Rubbing their eyes, they stared at me again.

‘Just a kid?’

‘A nobody?’

No matter how they looked, that’s all I seemed.

Like a puppy clumsily acting like a tiger?

They couldn’t believe I’d killed Ashheap.

That was their mistake.

Unable to accept reality, Bloodbath and Ironhammer exchanged glances and charged at me.

Incomplete Aura flickered ominously on their fists, striking with terrifying speed.

But the result was the same.

Boom!

Boom!

Bloodbath and Ironhammer’s heads exploded just as spectacularly, collapsing.

Seeing their grotesque remains, the participants felt a chill down their spines.

Some pinched their cheeks, unable to comprehend the situation.

“Hmm… They came at me with intent to kill, so I didn’t hold back.”

It was unbelievable that this goofy-talking guy was the strongest here.

Ironically, despite one-shotting the three top contenders—Ashheap, Bloodbath, and Ironhammer—I still wasn’t highly regarded.

A side effect of trying to mimic Ulrik’s technique.

Then, Ulrik, who’d been silently observing, strode forward and stood before me.

The participants held their breath.

A presence heavier than all the strong contenders combined began to oppress the room.

Moments later, pointing at me, he spoke softly.

“This guy is my disciple. He’s still rough, but as you can see, he’s got decent skills. He won’t go down easily.”

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“Think carefully. Will you team up to take me and my disciple down and fight for five spots? Or leave us be and compete for three?”

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“Personally, I recommend the latter.”

With that, Ulrik strode away.

Those who met his gaze instinctively stepped back, clearing his path.

He reached a corner of the waiting room and leaned against the wall.

I followed suit after gauging the mood.

As I stood beside Ulrik, exuding a tiger-like—no, puppy-like—presence, the participants grew puzzled again.

Whoosh—!

An immense presence.

Not the kind that used Aura like mist to pressure others.

Ulrik overwhelmed 95 participants with pure aura and acting alone.

To those unable to meet his gaze, staring at the floor, he commanded.

“Now… start killing each other.”

***

“No surprise, that Ulrik guy passed.”

“I told you. He’s not someone who’d fall here.”

“But there were unexpected results. Bloodbath, Ashheap, and Ironhammer dying before even stepping into the arena.”

“Definitely unexpected. What the hell happened in there? A focused attack?”

The veteran gatekeeper frowned at the results.

He could accept the three strong contenders dying.

Upsets were common.

Unless you were an absolute powerhouse like Ulrik, death was always possible in the arena.

But the fact that “Harang,” whom he’d thought a total newbie, passed was a huge shock.

The newbie gatekeeper felt the same.

“He won’t win a single match, right?”

“Who, Harang?”

“Yeah, who else?”

“Obviously. He got lucky hiding this time, but that luck won’t come again. Guaranteed.”

“What about Ulrik?”

“Hmm. That’s… not something a gatekeeper like me can judge.”

The veteran held back.

But it was clear Ulrik had the potential to reach the arena’s deepest floors, below the seventh basement.

“It’ll be fun. Ulrik… Ulrik! Watching how far he goes will be a thrill.”

“True. I’ll be watching too. Haha.”

The gatekeepers burst into hearty laughter.

They passed the time discussing arena participants, and Kalbaron’s residents across the city used the fighters as conversation fodder.

Some time later, the results came.

Ulrik: Forfeited in the second match.

Harang: Undefeated through eight matches, earning a shot at the arena championship.

The Dark City Kalbaron buzzed with this unexpected outcome.