Nash breathed calmly, ignoring the cheers from the crowd, the insults, the words of the King... The only thing he was concentrated on was the goblin running toward him as he dragged his worn-down sword behind him, his red murderous eyes gleaming with wickedness. The young man held his sword straight in front of him, imitating the position of the knights who captured him during his last life. Even though he wasn't wielding a halberd, a better posture had to count for something.

'My goal...' He glanced up at the King who was grinning widely from his royal lounge as he watched the show, '...is to win as much time as I can.'

He looked back at the goblin, who would soon attack him.

'...How can I use this little guy to train myself?' Nash wondered as he rolled to the side exaggeratedly while listening to the crowd's shouts. As long as it seemed like a terrible struggle they would be satisfied, and so would the King.

'Aethon wants a show, I'll give him one. I need to make sure I make it look like I win by a small margin each time... I'll keep the steel grip as a last resort, I can't just rely on this unnatural strength to win my fights...' Nash gritted his teeth and faced the salivating goblin that agitated his sword hazardously, threatening to cut Nash with it. The young man attacked weakly, carefully controlling his strength to just push back the goblin, focusing on blocking the creature's attacks. Defense was one thing he didn't know among many others, the better he would get at it, the longer he'd survive.

With that thought in mind, he focused entirely on the fight. Stepping to the side, avoiding the blade brushing beside his skin, the shock of metal hitting metal, the cries of the goblin tiring himself. Each time the cheers of the crowd seemed to decrease in intensity, Nash allowed a light attack to reach him while hurting the goblin at the same time. If, from the outside, the fight looked incredibly close, in reality, it was entirely under Nash's control. Moving at the right spot, positioning his legs and feet in the most efficient place, deflecting the attacks at the right time... The more Nash 'fought', the faster he learned, making it considerably easy to bait the goblin and make it do what he wanted. The young man frowned, before putting a little more strength in his parry than usual, cutting sideway exaggeratedly. The goblin watched silently his sword fly out of his hands, before Nash's weapon pierced through his forehead, killing him on the spot.

The crowd exploded with shouts and cheers, the King rubbing his dirty beard with a satisfied expression. Nash wiped the blood that had splurged on his face and glanced at Aethon, convinced that the only reason he had been put into this Arena was for that bastard's entertainment. The more Nash struggled and the more the crowd cheered, the happier the King looked.

'Is this some kind of show of power? Some kind of way to undermine my reputation even more than it already was? Or, maybe it's just for the fun of it?' Nash spat to the side before wiping his bloodied blade on the goblin's corpse, containing a grin as he felt new strength enter his body. In the end, whatever the answer was, it wouldn't change anything.

'I'm killing you either way...' Nash clenched his fists, his eyelids flinching as shards of memories of his previous life's death flashed in his mind. He bit his lips and shook his head, before sitting in the red sand while waiting for the next opponent. It would probably be the gladiator with his trident. The young man winced as he remembered the pain of the trident piercing his foot and chest.

'Fighting the goblin was just in preparation for this guy... It will be much harder, even though I can rely on the two people's worth of boost from the Arena. I'll have to be careful.'

Nash forced himself up and picked up the goblin's sword, slipping it into his belt alongside the two knives he hadn't yet used. The instance of fighting the five knights barehanded had taught him that having more weapons was much better than no weapons at all.

The King's explanations entered his ears but he didn't even try to listen to them, too concentrated on the next steps of his plan. Whatever Aethon was going to say, it would either undermine or taunt him. Since it wouldn't be anything useful anyway, he'd much rather spend his mental capacity preparing for the next fight.

The Gladiator had a long reach, with vicious moves, the intelligence of a man coupled with the ferocity of a beast. That guy wanted blood and loved killing, from what Nash could deduce from how he fought. Maybe that could be taken advantage of, but that'll have to wait until he shows up. Nash squinted as he tried to recognize the Gladiator entering the Arena, only it wasn't him. It was a humanoid with blue and thick skin, around a meter taller than Nash was, and with bulging muscles that seemed like they were made of steel.

A greatsword was resting on his left shoulder as his feet dug in the red sand, two yellow wild-boar tusks gleaming under the sunlight coming out of the creature's mouth. With a pauldron and an adapted Roman skirt covering his groin, an orc entered the Arena, roaring under the cheers of the crowd. Nash's nose creased, before coming to the understanding that the fighter's list was determined by the function of his performance and the King's desire. Since, in his previous life, he had crushed a goblin's throat effortlessly, showing a duel certainly breathtaking but much too fast for the King's liking, he had sent a higher-level fighter right off the bat. That would explain also why he sent the giant spider straight in the third round, instead of later.

'If I show the performance expected of me, I'll be facing opponents that should be at a slightly lower level...I didn't notice any difference between the boosts in strength, be it when I killed the Clown, the Cyclopes, or the spider...That means I need to kill ten things like the Trial said, no matter what their strength is...' Nash's lips curled upward as he concentrated on his new opponent, the orc hyping up the crowd while roaring with his greatsword raised above his head. The crowd cheered fanatically, more than happy to satisfy the orc's need for excitement. Finally, after having his dose of amusement, the orc turned toward Nash, before bowing his head politely. Nash frowned, surprised.

"I, Chevik of the Dar-Kha's Tribe, challenge you to a duel!" He roared toward the sky, the crowd cheering in reply to his words. Nash remained silent for a few seconds before bowing his head politely as well.

"I, Nash Dularfell, accept your challenge!" The young man's blood began to boil inside his veins as he watched the orc grin with a satisfied expression, before grabbing his greatsword with both of his massive hands. Nash drew a deep breath, his backfoot pushing in the red sand as he stilled his hold over his weapon.

A second passed with the two fighters judging each other, when the orc charged with a battle cry, taking the initiative. Nash realized that Chevik, as the orc named himself, had nothing to envy the Trident-Gladiator. The young man leaped backward as the huge sword cut a trench in the red sand and raised a great cloud of dust. The Orc fighter took a second to recover his sword, before charging forward with the same determination, letting out a bestial roar as he attacked Nash.

'Great power...much too great for me to block it with my sword,' Nash realized as he rolled to the side, avoiding a mighty stab that pierced through the air. He hurriedly jumped to his feet before lunging at the orc, using that second Chevik used to recover his sword to try and attack him. He gritted his teeth and slashed sideways, cutting a red line in the thick blue skin. The orc groaned and let go of his sword before throwing a massive fist at Nash. The young man only had the time to put his sword in front of him and he felt the punch hit him like a truck. He flew in the air for a few seconds before landing harshly in the sand, rolling a few times as he gasped for air.

Nash's lungs had been entirely emptied by the force of the attack, forcing him to draw small breaths by small breaths. He scowled while glancing up, noticing that the orc was pressing one of his hands against his wound while cursing in a foreign language. The young man forced himself up, ignoring the pain in his chest as best he could. He might had a few broken bones, but he didn't have a choice but to push on. Push through the pain, the fear, and fight.

Fight and kill, until he was strong enough so that nothing could stop him.

The orc wiped his hand on his skirt, before charging Nash down with a roar. The young man pulled one of the twin daggers hanging on his belt, using his sword in his right hand and the dagger in the other.

'Blocking isn't an option. I need to be faster!' The orc slashed sideway, Nash narrowly avoiding it once again. He watched carefully while circling the orc, who shouted another warcry in another language, before repeating the same attack. Instead of jumping back like he had done all the times previously, Nash lunged forward, sliding under the attack and into Chevik's legs.

Without a second of hesitation, he planted both his dagger and his sword into the Orc's groin.

Chevik suddenly went pale, the sound of his greatsword dropping on the ground echoing in the Arena. Nash hurriedly rolled away, abandoning his weapons and pulling his other sword and dagger, sharply watching what the Orc would do. The Arena went silent as Chevik dropped to his knees while holding his lower parts, infinite pain in his eyes. He then fell face first, emptying of his blood in the center of the coliseum.

Nash slowly lowered his weapons, suddenly realizing what parts he had just hit. He grimaced before stepping in front of the Orc, not giving him another glance as he planted his sword in his head. The cheers from the crowd were nothing compared to the rush of strength he felt as the Orc's life force entered his body. Nash shivered, heaving in relief when the pain from his broken bones disappeared alongside the strength boost.

'That Orc was tough...But not as dangerous as the Gladiator...It just felt a little easier, and I might not even have been hit at all had I been more careful from the start...' Nash looked back to the fight as he sat down while watching the Orc's crimson blood soaking the red sand. The Arena claimed yet another life, as it did before, and as it will forever.

The young man glanced at the King, finding him a little surprised by the winner of the fight, but still satisfied by the odds. In addition, Nash was supposed to be hurting quite a bit from the heavy punch he received in his chest, handicapping him for the next fights.

Thankfully, that problem had been solved by the Arena's strength and healing boost, but Nash now knew better than to let the onlookers know about that.

"So, who or what will be the next one...?" He muttered before pushing himself up, glancing at the weapons planted in the groins of the orc's corpse. He hesitated only for a second before pulling them out, wiping the blood off the orc's skirt, before putting them back in his belt. He looked at Chevik's greatsword before shaking his head, not seeing himself wielding that massive weapon. Maybe if he had the full ten boosts of the Arena he would be able to, but right now, it would only hinder him.

"Hahahaha, who would have thought Chevik the Great would die like that? The Foolish Prince keeps on surprising us, even though he looks quite tired from the fight. Do you want to continue, Nash Dularfell?" King Aethon shouted, the cheers and applause of the crowd complimenting his words. Nash didn't reply, only pointing his sword at the steel gate, waiting for it to open and deliver his next opponent. The King chuckled loudly, before clapping his hands.

"Cheer for the Prince, for he will fight yet another incredible opponent!" Aethon grinned, before going back to sit on his throne. Nash gazed at the steel gate pry open, smirking when he recognized the Gladiator entering the Arena. That's one opponent he knew how he was going to deal with.

The Gladiator stumbled forward, still acting as if he was weak and famished. Dragging his trident in the sound, he walked closer and closer to Nash, who only watched without saying a word. The Orc wanted a duel, he had a duel.

The Gladiator wanted a hunt.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He was going to get one.

When he reached the necessary distance, the Gladiator suddenly lunged forward, his eyes flashing with madness and bloodlust, a wicked grin on his face. Nash calmly deflected the trident before kicking the Gladiator away, switching up his strategy. The Gladiator stumbled to the side, confused, before turning back with more determination, grabbing his trident with both hands. The young man watched him without an ounce of anxiety, slashing sideways as he deflected the attack once again with such a mighty strike the Gladiator was almost forced to let go of his weapon.

'If I want to keep on getting one one-on-one fights, I either need to keep up the crowd's interest alongside the King's. If I dominate the Gladiator so quickly and so easily, they won't think I'm too strong, no...' Nash calculated as he suddenly flexed his muscles and knocked the trident out of the Gladiator's hands. The fight was nothing like it had been in Nash's first life. With the boost granted to him by the deaths of the Clown, the goblin, and the Orc, he was now much stronger and faster. In addition, the main thing that had been detrimental to his fight in his previous life was how unexpected the Gladiator's proficiency with the trident had been.

The Gladiator couldn't spare a glance at the trident flying away as Nash's sword pierced through his chest, before cutting through the bones and flesh. The young man pulled his sword out as he watched the Gladiator grunt painfully, before taking a few steps backward and falling in the red sand. Without losing a second, Nash finished him, his sword piercing his head like it had done for the Orc's head, putting an end to his suffering.

The crowd watching whispered with disappointment, as they had expected a much more interesting fight like the previous ones. Nash ignored them as he enjoyed the feeling of the strength filling his body, enhancing his muscles and boosting them up. The King watched confusedly, before leaning to the side to ask one of his aides something. Of course, Nash couldn't hear what they were talking about from so far away, but he could guess what the subject of the conversation was.

'It must have been shocking to watch the Gladiator die in such an anti-climatic way when I struggled so much against the previous opponents. There are only two explanations for that, either I became incredibly strong in the span of a few minutes, or...'

The King cleared his throat while interrupting Nash's thoughts, gathering the attention of the crowd.

"Hrem, it seems like Colin Delar, the Warrior of Neptune, wasn't in the best of conditions when fighting the Prince. Thankfully, we have plenty of other fighters who will succeed in showing us anthological fights, so please, welcome a beast living in the clouds, hiding in the darkness, and hunting any prey..."

Nash's ears perked up and he focused on the steel gate, the sound of chains rustling coming from behind it. The steel gate pried open, soldiers pulling and pushing an eight-legged beast the size of a car inside the Arena.

"A Sky-Silkkkk...Weaver!!!" The crowd burst into cheers as Aethon raised his hands in the sky, hyping the public and exploding in laughter. The spider, Fang as Nash had named it in his previous life, gazed upon the young man, happiness, and excitation appearing in his dozen of eyes. The young man frowned and held his sword up, putting up a pitiful defensive stance in front of the massive creature.

In truth, Nash knew the spider was no threat to him, but he had to make it look like it was.

'I'll need to be quick about it...' The young man gritted his teeth as the spider, once again, freed itself from the chains before charging madly toward him. Instead of waiting for it, Nash ran forward as well, his sword lowered as if he was going to try and do an upward cut. The spider stopped in front of him, but Nash didn't, sliding under the spider and pressing his hand against its hairy belly, transmitting all the information it needed. The spider shrieked surprisingly, before jumping away from Nash, who hurriedly stood up like he just narrowly escaped death. The spider hissed threateningly, before turning toward the audience and climbing on the Arena's walls into the stands. The crowd burst into cries of terror as they hurriedly got out of the spider's way who continued to climb up while ignoring them. Finally, it reached the highest point and escaped the Arena, leaving to do Nash's bidding.

The young man sighed before sitting back in the sand.

'That has gone much better than I thought it would have. I managed to find a way to make use of Fang without killing him, and without forcing the King to put impossible opponents against me. I even think it discredited him quite a bit,' Nash smirked as he watched Aethon's face break down as he shouted orders to his aides as well as to some guards. The Crier, seeing his King's distress, took the initiative to step up to announce Nash's next opponent.

"Cough, coming from the depths of the Lang Forest, a Cyclops!" announced the Crier to the audience who hadn't yet left, captivating them with his words. Nash's eyebrows creased and he abandoned his one-handed sword without a second thought, walking up to the orc's corpse and picking up the greatsword instead. It was incredibly heavy and strained his muscles painfully, but that was his best bet if he wanted to deal with Cyclops quickly.

'I don't have the help of Fang this time around to help me pierce that eye, so I'll have to do damage differently. I'm quite scared that it will fight with its eye working...' Nash thought as he watched the male Cyclops enter, only armed with his heavy chains. The young man pinched his lips, feeling that he would have a considerably much easier time had the monster possessed a more straightforward weapon. Chains were too unpredictable, and in the end of the Cyclops, a true weapon of death.

The steel gate shut down behind the Cyclops, who roared to the sky violently as he undid his chains. He then wrapped them around his fists before pointing at Nash and shouting in a foreign language. The young man frowned, only tightening his hold over the greatsword's handle, a pearl of cold sweat sliding down his back. This was the real fight, the one where was supposed to die.

'It's time to go all out. How many did it make already? The goblin, the orc, the gladiator, the clown as well...If I kill the Cyclops, that would make five out of ten. I don't know if it'll be enough to deal with the knights, but I sure hope so...Let's forget Fang's help as well, there's no guarantee it'll work,' Nash clenched his teeth before charging at the Cyclops, dragging the greatsword behind him. The blade dug into the sand, raising a small cloud of dust when Nash lifted it to block the chains coming to strike him.

The sword was so long and large that it covered his entire body, but it didn't protect him from the weight behind the attack, sending a shock throughout his body. A loud ringing sound echoed in the Arena as the chains made contact with the greatsword, making the audience's heads ring as they wondered how a human could stop such an attack.

Nash didn't have the time to wonder about how impossible what he was doing was, and lifted his sword once again, lunging forward before using his whole body to act as counterweight as he slashed sideways with the greatsword, the blade acting as a literal scythe of death. The greatsword cleaved through the Cyclops' right foot cleanly, crimson blood splashing over Nash and the red sand. The young man hurriedly jumped back as the Cyclops roared painfully, falling to one knee while holding his cut off his foot. Nash didn't waste the occasion as he lifted the greatsword above his head and let it fall like the Sword of Damocles over the monster's head.

The heavy blade dug into the flesh, splitting the Cyclops' head in two. Nash fell back, gasping for air after feeling the strain of using such a stupidly heavy weapon. He let go of the sword while heaving in relief, satisfied to see how well the fight went. Now, he just had to wait for the surge in power and prepare to fight the five knights or worse... The young man blinked before looking at the Cyclops and the unending flow of blood coming from his skull.

Under Nash's horrified gaze, the Cyclops slowly grabbed the greatsword and pulled it out of his head, ignoring the pain and the blood as it stared down with a single eye at him.

"This is fucked up..." He blurted out, before hurriedly throwing himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the greatsword from splitting him in two. What remained of the crowd cheered at the bloody show, even though they had long stopped calling him the Foolish Prince.

How could they continue when he was fighting like a true Gladiator, his life hanging on the line with each fight?

Nash pulled his sword out of his belt, before jumping back to avoid yet another attack. The Cyclops was dragging himself over the ground, his eye bloodshot and filled with insanity. He roared madly as he crawled toward Nash, using the sword as a help to keep on advancing, all the while continuing his attacks. Nash gritted his teeth jumped over the sword and lunged forward, throwing his sword like a javelin into the Cyclops' eye, but the creature easily stopped by putting his hand in the way.

Nash groaned in frustration, adrenaline pumping in his veins as he avoided yet another sweep of a greatsword. He then jumped to the side of the Cyclops, jumping on his back like he had done in his previous life. He took out his twin daggers and lacerated the back of the Cyclops while climbing it up. The creature cried in pain before rolling on the ground, successfully getting rid of Nash. The young man coughed the sand that had gotten into his mouth, before hurriedly stepping to the side, the greatsword cleaving down right where he was standing a second ago. Nash felt time slow down as he glanced at his left arm fall on the ground, separated from his body.

Something broke inside his mind at that moment and he threw himself at the Cyclops while disregarding his safety, barely avoiding the creature's attacks. He jumped at the Cyclops' throat covered in blood and used his sword to pierce through it. He then bit down on the handle to hold himself while he pierced through the thick throat with his remaining right arm using Steel Grip and ripping out anything he could find in it. The Cyclops didn't expect it and tried to get a hold of his throat, but the combined blood loss between the split in his skull, his missing foot, and now his ripped-out throat, he could only grab with wobbly hands at nothing. He crashed into the red sand, his blood pouring down in an unending flow. Nash similarly fell on his back, gasping for air as he grabbed the stump in his left arm, trying to stop the blood as best he could.

The surge of strength that indicated that he had managed to slay the Cyclops surged into his body, soothing the pain and stopping the blood loss of his arm by sealing the sound.

"Hah...Hah...Hah..." Nash heaved with difficulty, gritting his teeth as he rolled himself up, pushing his forehead against the warm red sand. Swear was making his clothes stick to his skin, half of his clothes covered in blood. He struggled as he took off his top, tightening into a makeshift bandage to cover his stump.

'There's no...need to...advertise that I healed myself...' Nash struggled as he tightened the bandage, sighing tiredly once he was done. The crowd had gone silent from the spectacular fight, shocked after finding out that Nash had managed to survive and win despite the more than unfavorable odds. One of the persons in the audience suddenly shouted something, something that was quickly picked up by the rest of the crowd.

"The...The Giant Slayer!"

"The Giant Slayer!! The Giant Slayer!!" The shouts of the public filled the Arena, not doing anything to alleviate Nash's regret of having lost a limb. The hardest fights remained, and he would only be able to use a single arm for it. His chances of winning had suddenly decreased, and he didn't like that.

'I'd rather not die again without having made any progress...Shit, of course, the surge of strength couldn't regrow my whole fucking arm...' Nash raged silently while pushing himself up, stumbling over to the Gladiator's corpse, picking up the trident, and trying to get used to using it one-handedly.

He would be much more comfortable using a one-handed sword, but the knights had too much range with their halberd for him to keep the sword.

'If only I could find a way to get more training with melee weapons, I'd probably handle myself much better...' Nash couldn't help but think as the steel gate opened, revealing to his surprise the female Cyclops. A grin decorated his face while dread and sadness filled her single eye.

'If I manage to kill her, that's a six-person boost. I need to do it without losing any other limbs though...' He calculated while the Cyclops cried silently, looking at the two trees she used as blunt weapons sadly. She threw one at Nash who effortlessly avoided it, seeing the projectile coming. The Cyclops, blinded by grief, charged at Nash, both her hands tightly grabbing her thick tree over her head. Nash aimed slowly, his right arm pulled as far as he could behind him, before shooting the trident as hard as he could.

The weapon whistled through the air, almost invisible to the naked eye from how fast it was going, before piercing the female Cyclops' eye. She dropped the tree she was holding while grabbing her eyes with a heart-wrenching cry. Nash coldly walked toward the dead Cyclops and pulled out his one-handed sword from his throat. He ignored the blood on the blade as he slowly stepped in his current opponent's direction, his face emotionless. She rolled on the ground while hiding her eyes behind her massive hands, crying red tears of blood.

Nash spat to the side before jumping on her back and cleaving a chunk of flesh out. She screamed painfully, but Nash ignored the pestering noise, not giving her the occasion to get rid of him as he shoved his sword inside the wound, reaching the vertebral column and destroying it.

The Cyclops convulsed as she foamed at the mouth, before stopping entirely. Nash pulled his sword out and wiped it off on the corpse, closing his eyes as he accepted the rush of power.

'Four more, and I'm done with this place,' The young man gritted his teeth before pointing his sword in Aethon's direction, the King unable to speak a word. Finally, he shouted the expected words to his guards and aides and left the premises. Nash smirked and stretched as best he could, steeling himself for the next fight, and for the consequences if he failed to win.

A gruesome torture and horrible death. A cold glint shone in Nash's eyes as he straightened himself while the steel gate opened, letting four heavily armored knights. Nash frowned, before soon coming to an understanding.

"Ten fights...Even if Fang fled the Arena, for them, it still counted as a fight..." He deducted, before grinning. His odds, even if they weren't in his favor, still had climbed up a bit with one less knight. He wrapped his hand tightly around the weapon's hilt, holding it in front of him in an aggressive stance. The four knights' steps echoed in the Arena, the public watching while holding their breaths.

The four knights raised their halberds, their helmets glimmering with a silver hue.

"It's the same all over again..." Nash chuckled, before looking at the sky.

"...Or is it?"

In the distance, he could hear it.

The sound of knives rattling against the stone.

The reinforcements were on their way.

He just had to survive a few minutes until they arrived.

"Sigh..."