Nash coldly stared at the five knights entering the Arena, their armor gleaming with a silver hue under the sunlight. Armed with sharp halberds and heavy steel protections, the five knights had been sent with only one purpose: to kill him.
"It seems like Aethon got tired of seeing me survive..." He muttered, his fists tightly clenched as he watched his five opponents. He was pretty sure that in terms of tradition, whatever it was, it had been thoroughly broken by the King by sending so many people after him at once.
'I already killed a man, what's five more?' Nash gritted his teeth as he took the initiative of the offense, charging at the nearest knight. His eyes remained stuck on the long halberd, aware that without any weapons, he was at a terrible disadvantage against the knight's range of attack. His best bet was to surprise them by killing one right off the bat, steal his halberd, and kill the other fours with it.
In that spirit, he jumped at the knight, whose expression was hidden under his thick steel helmet. Whether it was fear, pity, or mockery, Nash couldn't know. What he did know, though, was that he could and would rip the metal open to crush the bastard hidden under his armor. At that point, it would be rinse and repeat until he was the last one standing.
The young man lunged with his hands extended in front of him, ready to grab the halberd out of the knight's hands once he tried to attack.
A second and a fast slash later, Nash's eyes widened with pain and shock as he watched his left-hand fall on the ground, detached from the main body. Blood splurged out of the stump like water from a fountain, tainting the Arena's red sand redder. The young man fell back, unable to process the loss of his hand as he held the stump the best he could, at a loss at what to do. Before he could think on it further, a searing pain pierced the back of his leg, pinning him to the ground.
Nash cried in pain as he glanced behind him desperately, realizing that one of the knights had sneaked into his back at some point. He gritted his teeth and swooped behind him with his remaining arm, managing to grab the halberd still piercing him and force it out of his leg. The knight tugged at the halberd, unwilling to let go of his weapon, but Nash's strength boosted by the Arena's boons was greater than his. The young man ripped the halberd out, before slashing on the other side, forcing the other knights back.
The sound of metal rustling informed him that the knight in his back had pulled another weapon out of somewhere, maybe a short sword or a dagger hidden in his armor. The young man remained kneeling on one knee, holding the halberd with his right arm as more blood flowed out of his wounds. He couldn't move, and barely fight, but there had to be a way to win, some way to survive...!
Slash!
One of the knights cut through the air with his halberd, piercing into Nash's side, while the other used the occasion to cut the young man's remaining hand. Nash's face reddened with anger and pain, even though he kept on losing more blood.
"RARGHHHH!!!" He roared until his head rang like a bell after being hit with a hammer. Something had hit him in the back of the head, knocking him into unconsciousness. Nash watched the red sand approach at great speed as he fell face first, darkness soon filling his sight.
He lost.
Again.
----------------------------------------
Rustle, rustle...
Nash struggled to open his eyes, a thick mixture sticking together his eyelids, making it difficult to open them. His head was ringing with a numbing pain, while the rest of his body was similarly battered, so much so that he couldn't even feel his limbs anymore, be it arms or legs.
'No, wait, I can't feel my arms because I lost them...I lost my arms?' Nash trembled, realizing he was going to spend the rest of his life as a cripple. He tried to open his mouth to scream, but his lips were sealed by the same thick mixture that stuck his eyelids together. The only thing not blocked was his nose, through which he could barely breathe, the bridge of it broken painfully.
Nash felt anxiety rise in his chest as he tried to move, but only his head responded. His legs didn't respond, nor did his arms. It was as if he had lost everything... The young man paled and tried to move wiggle his toes, but he couldn't feel it doing anything. Either his nerves were gone, or his feet were.
There was a more than certain chance it was the both of them. Nash's breathing accelerated, his heart beating weakly from the lack of blood to pump. A vertigo seized him and he felt like he was going to puke, but his mouth simply wouldn't open. To calm himself, he tried to feel his surroundings and listen to them, since he couldn't see he had to do with what he had, namely his ears and his sense of smell. The first thing he heard was the sound of metal rustling and rattling against something, like chains...
Nash realized that those were his chains, which he could feel pressing and wrapping around his chest, sticking him to a cold and damp wall, probably made out of stone. The second noise was those of whispers, whispers that seemed to be carried along by a freezing breeze whistling around him, making him shiver from the cold.
'Chains, damp stones, cold wind...The Prison. I'm back in the Prison...' Ironically, finding out where he was calmed Nash's slightly, even though it might not have been the best spot to be in. He used that peace to think back to the fight he lost, against the five knights, and what he could learn from it.
The first thing was to probably not attack first when fighting a long-range weapon unless he aimed to sacrifice a limb for a hit. Closing in might have been a great option since it would render the use of a halberd more difficult, but that would have been in the case the knights didn't know what they were doing.
And sadly, they knew. They were professionals, trained to kill efficiently while working as a team. They had left nothing to luck, immobilizing him while cutting his hands off so he couldn't use his terrifying grip, and knocking him down without breaking a sweat. Even if he was an absolute monster of a unit, Nash had no chance against them, not with his inexistent fighting skills anyway.
'I... I should be grateful that the Gladiator underestimated me, otherwise, I could have met my current fate from the start...' Nash wanted to sigh but couldn't, his lips as sealed as ever. What could he have done better in this situation? Probably nothing, but if he had another chance, he would spare a weapon, the trident maybe, and keep it to fight the five knights. He was convinced that if he had better equipment, he might have succeeded in slaying at least one of the five bastards.
Nash chuckled inwardly as he realized his foolishness. Even if he could do something, it'd only be getting rid of a fifth of the problem. He hoped to complete the Trial of Strength before dying, so he would get a new bonus for the next life to make it more possible to advance toward his goal of becoming the Citadel's Lord. After that, there would still be the Trial of Faith or the Trial of Mazaeth, but that one would certainly be easier if he'd already done the other two trials. Mazaeth, the Ruler of the Sky, said it himself, that had to count for something, right?
'What can I do, what can I do, what can I do...' Nash's mind raced as he tried to find a solution to his predicament when he heard laughter echoing in the distance. He listened carefully, trying to catch any words to try and get more information, but it all was hidden behind giggles and chuckles, unintelligible. The laughter approached him closer until the creaking of something made out of metal rang in his room. From the sound of it, and how it echoed, it seemed like a relatively large room, but he wouldn't be able to tell until he had a way to see something.
'Probably a metal door too...Considering the chains and now that, I should be in some kind of high-security cell,' Nash deducted, listening attentively to the steps of people entering the room. Three, maybe four people from what he could hear entered, before closing the metal door behind them.
"Heh, heh, well, isn't that our Iron-Blooded Prince?" A now familiarly annoying voice rang out, old but happy. Nash gritted his teeth, wishing his mouth would be free so he could spit on the bastard who ordered what had practically been his execution. Aethon the Fourth sighed, the other persons in the room remaining silent.
"Nash, my dear Nash, do you know how much trouble you put me in?" Aethon asked, waiting for a few seconds for an answer before continuing.
"...Of course not, you don't know that. Or maybe you do. I can't tell if you're just plain foolish, or if you've been hiding your skills behind this stupid facade."
The young man followed Aethon's voice as the King moved through the room, his steps echoing dully in the silence.
"Now, I have the majority of the population knocking at the castle's gate to get their idiotic tradition...Sigh, thank the gods they didn't kill you," Aethon heaved a deep breath, before patting Nash's shoulder. The young man flinched and tried to shake off the chains, unable to do much with his stumps.
"Anyway, you know how this is going to go, right? Let's begin."
Nash turned his head to the sides frantically as the other people in the room began to bustle about, one of them taking him out of his chains and lifting him. The young man realized how light he was without his limbs as his carrier brought him to a wooden table without any issue. Leather straps were tightened around his chest and forehead, as well as around his stumps, making it impossible for him to move.
'What is going on? What are they doing?' Nash panicked, unable to do anything to free himself.
"You're doing pretty well, actually, compared to your family," Aethon marked a pause, before continuing, "Oh, dear, I shouldn't have told you that, right? Well, now that the cat is out of the bag, I can only explain it to you, so you can understand what your fate is, right?"
'This world's family? What about them, aren't they dead?' Nash thought, confused.
"Ohoh, I can see the confusion on your face so clearly, even though your eyes and mouth are sealed open. You, get rid of the wax." Aethon laughed before ordering someone to liberate him from his wax seals. The individual charged to do so did it the most painful way possible, slowly ripping the wax off instead of pulling it all at once. Nash's body shook, trembling heavily as he tried once again to free himself, unable to bear more of that torture.
Finally, his mouth was freed, Nash gasping for air heavily, relieved that it was over.
"Oh, but don't worry, it's not over yet..." Aethon sneered, as his subordinate began working on the wax covering Nash's eyes. The young man felt his right eye's lid being slowly pulled away, resisting for a moment before being ripped away alongside the wax seals.
"ARGHHH!!!" Nash cried in pain as his sight came back to him, blood flowing into his right eye, the first Aethon's lackey freed. His eye darted to the side as he watched a man dressed in a leather apron similar to the Jailer's throw away the wax and his right eye's lid.
"You FUCKING PSYCHOS!" Nash shouted, his throat dry and his voice raspy. Aethon was sitting on a simple wooden chair, his chin resting on his fist as he watched the show with an uncaring expression.
"...That's no way to speak to your King, Nash," Aethon sighed and shook his head with disappointment, before nodding at his lackey, "...Get the other eye done."
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Nash paled, his already freed eye filling with blood and tears, unable to blink.
"No, no, no, NOOOOO!!!!" He screamed, but the lackey obeyed, using a plier to rip the other wax seal away. Nash felt his consciousness drifting away, drowned in a torrent of pain. He blacked out, letting his mind rest away from the torture.
"...That won't do...Come on, don't make me lose my time," An old annoyed voice intruded into his nightmare, but Nash ignored it, much too comfortable sinking into the painless darkness. Unfortunately, his wardens didn't seem too keen on letting him go in such a peaceful way.
"As you command," A cavernous voice responded, soon followed by the chilling sound of a weapon being taken out of its sheath. A second later, a sharp, cold feeling invaded Nash's chest, forcing his consciousness back. He gasped for air, his lungs empty and his heart struggling to keep up with the blood loss. He squinted with a lid-less gaze and looked down at his chest, blood rushing up his throat and soaking his mouth.
The lackey had plunged a knife into his chest, right beside his heart, before looking at Aethon for confirmation. Nash's sight blurred out, his life slipping away from his fingers.
"I never believed all of this mystical bullshit the Order of the Trinity fed the kingdom, but after seeing the effects and experiencing the benefits of being Her loyal follower, I can only concede..." Aethon smirked and nodded at his lackey, before indicating to the other present in the room to get something in the side of the room.
"Who would have thought such a barbaric idea would work? Giving me back my life stolen away by the mutt who's your father, making me as strong as a knight in its prime, really, how surprising, right?" As his words escaped from his mouth, Nash felt through the veil in his consciousness the knife moving as it carved around his heart, slicing the skin, flesh, muscles, and bones like a butcher preparing a cut of a good piece of meat.
The pain was so great Nash couldn't even scream anymore. His eyes lifelessly rolled to the side, his soul somehow remaining in his body even after all that.
But he had no doubt.
He was going to die.
It wasn't a question of if, only of when.
"Let me tell you something. This is all your father's fault, you know? He should have burned these books instead of keeping them safely in a vault. His lack of carefulness turned him into what? A magic juice to heal the wounds he inflicted on me? What a fitting end for that dog..."
Nash struggled as he felt his life slip away.
'I want to die...'
'No, I can't! I don't want to die!'
'This is painful...So painful...'
'Just make it stop...'
"Too bad you weren't a better Prince and completed two of the three Trials. Your blood would have been enough in that case, like it did before, but now...alas, I'll have to take a little bit more than that," Aethon chuckled and patted Nash's shoulder, before installing himself comfortably in his wooden seat. Nash, in an instant of clarity before death claimed him, saw the King's lackeys bring a large mechanical contraption, shockingly foreign to this medieval world.
A sudden emptiness filled Nash's chest as the one butchering him ripped his heart out, before putting it carefully into the machine. The King connected to it somehow, but Nash couldn't muster another drop of strength to find out more. His head dropped back on the table, the light of life dimming out of his eyes. The last thing he heard was a moan from the King as well as his chuckle, echoing in his mind like a song sung by the demons of Hell...
...
...
...
[Death counter]
...
[...2...]
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"Gasp!" Nash's eyes flashed open as he jumped to his feet, the pain still griping strongly his body and mind. He grabbed at his chest, before probing the rest of his limbs that had been cut off. His sight was clear, his lids working exactly like intended, and the only suffering shaking him was the one he felt from his much-too-fresh memories.
"Hah...hah...hah..." He heaved heavily, his memories blurring away behind a reassuring thick veil of censorship. This time, he didn't try to dig through it, letting it cover the pain and the horror of death. Never would he have guessed that he would be thankful for such an invasive procedure. Hiding away from the memories of his deaths wasn't a solution, but it'll have to do for now until he'd get used to it. Nash let himself fall on the floor, lying down as he stared at the ceiling lifelessly. His sanity was shaken to a critical stage, threatening to break at any moment
A blue window flashed open into existence, taking him out of his empty mind.
[Challenger: Nash Dularfull]
[First Floor - Second version]
[Class: No_Class]
[Passive Skill(s) : Indomitable Will(Innate) // Steel Grip(Blessing)]
[Active Skills: Araneae Link - Rank 7 (Blessing)]
[Proficiency: Revolver Proficiency - Unranked // Machete Proficiency - Unranked // Sword Proficiency - Unranked // Trident Proficiency - Unranked // Barehanded Proficiency - Rank 1]
[Curse(s): SYSTEM_LOCK // ??? 2/5]
[SCENARIO: ESCAPE FROM THE CITADEL ALIVE]
[HIDDEN SCENARIO: BECOME THE CITADEL'S RULER]
"...So many proficiencies..." Nash muttered, raising an eyebrow as he looked at his Barehanded level, which had gone up from Unranked to the first level.
"What was the difference?" He questioned, more than happy to take his mind off his grueling death. The rest of his proficiencies were all Unranked, even though he had mostly fought with weapons. What was the difference between them and his Barehanded fighting?
"I don't feel much stronger using my hands instead of a sword or any other weapon that would be quite the opposite. Let's just not care about the Proficiencies for now, it's not like I can test them however I'd want..." Nash sighed, worry adoring his face as he saw the number in the Curse tab climb up to 2/5. He could only be worried.
"At least I have a name for the thing I had with Fan—the spider..." Nash's expression darkened until his eyes widened with confusion, "Araneae Link...wait, Rank Seven?"
'That's the first time I hear about ranks for skills. No, that makes sense, but why would Indomitable Will and Steel Grip don't have any?' Nash pondered as he pushed himself off the floor and began pacing the room.
"The only reason the other skills don't have a rank would be...Because they can't rank up, maybe? So, is the Aranea Link an ability I can grow, then?" The young man questioned aloud before glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, his nose creasing when he realized he only had half an hour left before he was thrown back into hell, whatever it would be this time.
"I need to be as prepared as possible..." He mumbled as he crossed his arms, doing his best to try and make the most sense of it all.
"I'll assume a higher rank means a better version of a skill, while something without a rank is something that can't grow..." Nash's steps echoed as he walked around the room like a beast in a cage.
'Despite feeling a considerable boost to my strength after killing enemies in the Arena, I feel like I lost that boon. Could it be that until I fulfill the mission of killing ten opponents, I won't keep the strength I won? That means I need to find a way to kill ten guys back to back if I ever have the opportunity to go and fight back into the coliseum no matter what... That strength boon was just too good to be ignored.'
Nash thought back to the abilities he demonstrated in the life he just lost, wondering how that would change his next life. Sadly, there wasn't going to be much of a way to know besides entering the door leading to the Trial. Nash stopped in front of said door as he wondered about something. He hadn't tried to open it by himself, but if he had to guess, it would probably lead him directly into the Trial.
The young man looked at himself and drew a deep breath, wondering what was the best course of action. He had less than half an hour left, he wouldn't be able to rest much.
Should he just try and go in?
Nash steeled himself and grabbed the door's handle right after he verified nothing else changed on his status, or in the room. There was nothing he could do besides wait or proactively enter the door.
"Let's take the second option this time..." He whispered, before opening the black door and feeling his consciousness being pulled by it.
His eyes flashed back open as he gasped himself awake, his heart racing. A scent of blood and sweat reached his nose, something he had already experienced previously. He glanced around, his surroundings eerily familiar. He tried to move his limbs, but that's when he realized he was chained up to a wall, next to a few dozen fellows similarly constrained. Some had their heads leaning forward without strength, while some were looking around in anxiety. Some were just calming staring in front of them, at another wall with chains hanging. Nash squinted and looked at said chains, finding bloodied, broken weapons embedded in them.
'That's the wall of weapons that I saw back when I entered the arena with the other clown-looking madman...' The young man realized with a hint of relief. That meant he was going to be thrown back into the Arena, even though he didn't know why he was chained up instead of being woken up by the Clown.
"No, that does make sense..." He mumbled, earning the attention of his chained neighbors.
"You talked to me?" The nearest to his left asked before a rustling from his right made him turn his head.
"No, you dumbass, he was talking to me. Go back hanging on your wall and let me the privilege of speaking with our Prince, would you?"
A voice further away snorted.
"What Prince? That idiot completed the Trial of the Spider, ignoring the one of his father's God! He's just a spineless bastard that doesn't want to fight!"
Another voice echoed down the hallway with an offended tone.
"What do you mean spineless?!? Do you even know what the Trial of the Spider is?"
A silence followed, upon which the man talking continued.
"It's climbing the whole Citadel without any help, food, or places to rest! Imagine starting from the bottom of the Citadel and heading up there, stone by stone as he ascended to the top, all of that just to eat a spider's egg! If that's not a testimony to his will, I don't know what is!"
Nash shook his head with a slight smile, amused by their exchanges. The contrast between the death he had just 'lived' through and these lively guys was shocking, but it felt good to be a part of it.
"Tsk, anyone can do that if they're prepared enough!" The previous guy countered, instantly earning Nash's ire.
'Yeah, go climb to the top until you find the thing that fathered the egg...' He thought dejectedly, shivering when he remembered the massive spider nesting on the Citadel's roof.
Silence welcomed his thoughts until one of the prisoners coughed lightly.
"Uhm, what do you mean by that, my Prince?" He asked curiously, letting Nash remark he had been thinking out loud. The young man didn't let it get to him and replied as if he expected it.
"I needed to find the Sky Silk Weaver's egg, right?" The Prince demanded, the prisoners replying with an agreeing noise.
"Well, I found the egg and the Sky Silk Weaver. I still don't understand how I'm alive..." He trailed off, snorting when he realized he wasn't even lying. Indeed, that made no sense for him to be alive if, in the Scenario, he had somehow managed to get the egg. Perhaps there was some secret way to pick the egg up without alerting the spider queen, but he couldn't begin to guess what it was.
'Well, it doesn't matter anyway, since I'm never going back up there...' Nash thought while making sure he wouldn't accidentally blurt it out that time.
Their banters were interrupted when a maddened laugh rang out in the hallway, the prisoners all becoming as silent as tombs, fear appearing on their faces. Not everyone was scared, some seemed prepared for what was going to come, but still, most were worried.
"Foolish Prince, Foolish Prince, tell me..." The Clown's voice rang, sending a shiver down Nash's back. He needed to do things differently to survive and get the boon, but what would push the scale on his side?
'Think, think, think...'
The Clown finally arrived in front of Nash, grinning from one ear to the other when he saw that he was awake.
"Oh my, but you've been waiting for me? How nice!" He chuckled as he pulled a single, rusty key out of his hair, whistling happily as he freed Nash from the chains. The young man stumbled forward, rubbing his wrists as he did so. The Clown smiled before heading to the wall of the broken weapons and picking up a rusty, worn-down sword. The same Nash received in the previous life.
'That didn't change either...Alright...' His mind raced as he began planning the next steps.
Once again, he walked inside the dark hallway lit up by torches, the cheers of the crowd intensifying as he neared the entry of the Arena.
This time, he didn't feel as stranded or anxious.
No, he knew what he had to do, what he needed to do to survive.
Nash weighted the sword in his right hand, before cutting his palm without a shred of hesitation, letting a bit of blood flow into it. The Clown walking behind him giggled curiously but didn't ask what the young man was trying to do. As soon as Nash saw the light at the end of the tunnel, he suddenly cut behind him, cutting off the Clown's left arm and planting it in his chest. The madman was still grinning widely, unable to understand what just happened. He reached for his knife wrapped around his waist, but Nash didn't waste a second and grabbed the leftover hand, crushing it like paper.
The Clown kept on smiling and swung his broken hand at Nash, who blocked it effortlessly. Coldly, he pulled the sword out of his enemy's shoulder, a crimson veil lifting from the movement.
"Why would you do that?" The Clown asked, still grinning as if he couldn't feel the pain in his limbs. Nash didn't reply, only cutting heavily into the madman's knees, before dragging him from the back of his neck to the Arena's entry. He dropped the still-living Clown right at the spot where the steel gate would fall. The madman was grinning with confusion as Nash pressed his palm over the sand, waiting for a few seconds until a blue window appeared in his eyes.
Emotionlessly, he planted his sword at the back of the Clown's head, feeling strength rush into his veins, enhancing him. He drew a deep breath before wiping his blade over the Clown's clothes and took his belt away alongside the twin knives hanging off it. Nash fastened the belt, before stepping into the Arena under the cheers of the crowd, the cold glint of his sword gleaming under the sun.
He stared at King Aethon the Fourth, standing on top of the tribune as he began his speech.
But Nash couldn't hear him. Instead, he listened to the sound of the steel gate falling on the corpse of the Clown and crushing it, while the other entry point on the other side of the Arena opened up, letting a frail goblin enter. The young man made his neck crack, before holding his sword in front of him.
"Let's do this again, then..."