(48 hours later)
In the Klyntar's sub dimensional pouch. 'Night' has fallen, the cozy breeze of the 'morning' turned a little colder and the previous azure sky was now tainted by a glistening starry horizon. Horned creatures could be seen surrounding the battlefield. Spectators outside the arena were either still gazing at the battlefield or resting in their seats.
"Pillows! Comfy pillows from the Melako realm! I also have exotic meat from the same realm! Come take your meat!!"
Flying fiends occasionally flew over as they shouted to attract potential buyers, a floating showcase following them. A demon waved at one of them, which the latter responded by happily approaching him.
"How much for a pillow," asked the demon
"2 low tier souls," replied the seller. Nodding his head, the buyer pulled out a black gem and a few seconds later, two greyish, ethereal orbs appeared.
The flying fiend quickly brought them towards his body and the orbs were then absorbed by a similar looking gem under the seller's clothes.
Such occurrences were happening all over the arena. Some tried to bargain but to no avail. Some demons even had the idea to assault the flying sellers, which was then quickly suppressed by a glance by the guard's arena, all exuding a beginner demon chief level.
Even without the guards, the sellers seemed to proudly wear ominous red badges, making most troublemakers shut their mouths.
In the Zek'nir realm, souls are a universal currency. Not only can they help it's inhabitants grow stronger but can also be used to trade various things. The monetary value of the soul also depends of the 'purity' of corruption of a soul.
A thousand low tier souls is equal to one intermediate tier soul. And a thousand intermediate soul is equal to one high tier soul.
...
"Hey, how long do you think that guy can last? It's already been 3 days." A random spectator asked to his acquaintance.
"I'd bet 10 low tier souls that he can fight for another 2 days. Look at him, he received a lot of injuries already. And I can almost follow his movements, meaning his speed has decreased." The demon's acquaintance explained his reasoning as his eyes were locked on a half naked man.
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"Don't underestimate him, he's been running around for three whole days while giving free holes to whoever approached him. He can probably last longer."
"Then let's bet if you're so confident," the acquaintance grinned.
"Sure," answered the other demon.
As two devils were betting on an old man's endurance, the latter was fully focused on his task, which was surviving. Escaping from another encirclement, the injured Blake swiftly moved his neck and dodged a spiky tail aimed at his head.
Taking advantage, he grabbed the safe part of the appendage and pulled. Drawn, a shrieking demon was welcomed by a deadly fist. Brain matters splattered and a body without head dropped, yet the assaillant could not take a breath.
Another attack came from behind, and the man lowered his head to dodge and consecutively, executed a sweep kick. Destabilizing the newcomer, an uppercut then took off, and painted the sand with his jet black blood.
Blake then accelerated towards a curved edge of the arena, killing until he arrived, and finally rested his back on a wall. His body was covered with injuries albeit small. However a large scratch was visible from his right shoulder to his left hand. Blood red liquid already dried and the blood already stopped, thanks to Blake's physique.
'They finally stopped bothering me, I'll fully enjoy this wall before they arrive. The sweating man's behavior began a day ago, when he began feeling some fatigue. Therefore, he devised a strategy named 'kill and own.'
Whenever he would feel tired, he would use his full speed to go to the farthest end of the circular arena, eject the current residents, and rest for a few minutes, as if he was the new owner of the place.
Moreover, Old Blake has a lot of dexterity, which means more endurance, durability and...recovery.
Turning measly moments into god given opportunities. With 100 dexterity, Blake was able to recover a consequent part of his strength in mere minutes.
This plan of his however, was quickly found out by the demons. Therefore, some of them split out from the main group of assailants and formed diverse sub groups, each of them assigned to a curved edge in order to stop the monster from taking a breath. It worked so far, until Blake made more skulls and organs explode of course...
The individualists fiends quickly scattered as they didn't have to obey to no one in the arena. And now, the current Blake is free from having his peaceful break...almost.
In one of the highest seats of the spectator's area, an opportunistic, corpulent demon suddenly jumped and entered the battlefield. And with a vicious smile, already envisioned his full weight shattering every single bone of the man below him.
However to everyone's expectation, as the demon missile was about to land on its target, Blake walked three steps.
And with a terrifying speed, he turned around.
His half closed eyes fully opened, and his void like eyes ominously looked at the obese fiend. Then, he disappeared... And the next moment, his right hand was on the devil's face.
And the next moment, like one would squish a mosquito, Blake smashed the fiend's head against the walls' arena.
*SPLAT*
Taking small breaths, Blake now covered by his victim's remains comprising of brain matters, bits and pieces of eyeballs and some reddish flesh, looked at the spectators above and proclaimed.
"The next one will die by profusely bleeding from his balls."
Males demons felt a chill run down their spines and some unconsciously clunched their treasures, while females fiends were just happy not to be men.
"I yearn for true gender equality, the women won't be spared either." With a neutral face, Blake proclaimed.
The opposite sex momentarily freezed.
'System some of them don't even look humanoid, tell me where are their weak points once you spot them'. Asked Blake, a frightening grin slowly coming out.
[...]
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