The situation wasn't to Nash's advantage currently.
He was facing four heavily armored and trained knights, with halberds and thick bloodlust, while he had only one arm to defend himself and his measly luck, his prisoner's tunic being used as a makeshift bandage to hide his left arm's stump.
Indeed, it wasn't the best.
But that was temporary. The sound of knives rattling and hitting stones echoed in the distance, the noise increasing as time passed. If he waited long enough, Nash was guaranteed to win.
He just had to survive until then.
That's why he made the best choice in the situation.
He ran away.
To be more precise, he ran to the other side of the Arena and waited patiently for the armored knights to follow him, before running to the other side. He sat in the sand while waiting for the knights to arrive, revealing in the pleasure of seeing the four bastards exhaust themselves trying to follow him in their glistening chest-plates and helmets.
"I'm sure they're hating those armors right now..." He sneered while waiting for them, before once again running around them and reaching the other side of the Arena. It seemed stupid and couldn't look least honorable, but it worked. The knights were tiring out, their steps becoming heavy and they held their halberds loosely. Nash smacked his lips as he wondered whether he should give them another run, before deciding otherwise and rush at the nearest knight. Due to a slight difference in stamina, the knights weren't all stuck together in a tight formation like in his past life, but instead spaced out by a few meters.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Nash the chance to fight them on one. And that was all he needed.
The young man lunged forward, the surprised knight lowering himself in a defensive stance while sweeping his halberd to try and cut him in half. Nash gritted his teeth and cut in the halberd's direction, steel hitting steel, the shock ringing in his arm. He managed to push the halberd away but had to sacrifice his sword to do so. Nash didn't even spare it a glance as it flew away, planting itself in the sand.
As enhanced his body was, it still wasn't enough to make up for the fact that he knew nothing about how he should be holding a sword or anything. Brute forcing things was easy, but against skilled opponents, it was another story. Nash didn't try to grab his sword and instead continued his charge. The knight didn't have the time to defend himself and Nash shoulder-bashed him, throwing him on the ground. The knight grunted painfully, before trying to punch Nash, who avoided him without much struggle.
He slipped his hand under the knight's helmet and ripped it off, revealing a serious man with a pale complexion, his teeth clenched tightly as he tried to free himself. Nash continued to make leverage with his body while grabbing the knight's head, squeezing as hard as he could.
"ARGHHHH!!!" The knight cried in pain, alarming his colleagues who hurriedly tried and reach them to help. Nash didn't give them a chance and gave the last squeeze, crushing the skull into a bloody pulp. He couldn't appreciate a time of rest as the knights arrived upon him, nor the boost in strength. Instead, he rolled back and grabbed the dead knight's halberd, pushing himself up and pointing at the nearest knight, who roared while charging.
Nash swiftly stepped to the side while cutting diagonally to try and get rid of his opponent's arms as they had done in his past life, but the blade bounced off the armor without doing much damage. It might have been effective if he had wielded the weapon two-handedly, but he hadn't exactly chosen to lose his left arm. The knight quickly recovered and rotated his halberd, pushing off Nash and countering. The young man blocked as best he could before glancing at the two other leftover knights.
'Too close. Time to dip.' His decision was fast as he jumped back and turned his heels, running to the other side of the Arena. So far, his plan had worked perfectly, but Nash knew it was only a one-time thing. He looked back to see the three knights wait for each other as they approached Nash step by step, refusing to tire themselves further. Nash sighed and planted the halberd in the sand so he could wipe the blood off his hands on his pants.
The cheers of the crowd had longe went silent, the stands empty of any onlookers. It seemed like Aethon had forced them all out after the fiasco with the Spider and Nash's unstoppable rate.
'I would have probably done the same had my humiliation show been ruined that hard by the same guy I was trying to humiliate...' Nash smirked and picked his halberd back up, preparing to face the three knights. They were evenly spread out so they could stop him from running away, but close enough to each other so that he would be able to fight one-on-one like he did previously.
"I, Nash Dularfell, Heir to the Citadel, challenge you to a duel!" He shouted at the closest knight, who didn't even bother to reply to him. Nash winced before spitting to the side.
"At least I tried..." He muttered, slowly stepping back as he tried to find a way to deal with the three bastards. Fleeing wasn't an option, but fighting them wasn't either...If he couldn't find anything, he was going to die again in this miserable, wretched Arena.
Nash drew a deep breath and stood his ground, refusing to step back any longer. It wouldn't do him any good to be against the wall anyway. The three knights exchanged a gaze before charging at him, roaring as they tried to pierce him with their halberd. Nash gritted his teeth and tried blocking them as best he could, but his halberd flew off after one of the knight's sharp stabs. The young man's right hand stretched out as he tried to block the halberds coming when a huge black mass fell from the sky and crushed the three knights under its weight.
Nash froze tensely, before sighing in relief as Fang stepped forward, shrieking familiarly as it bowed in front of him. He shook his head slowly before patting the spider's massive head while he looked up at the opened ceiling. A black tidal wave surged as if to swallow the light, bulging and squirming oddly as it dropped behind Fang, Nash barely able to restrain an awed gasp in the sight.
In front of him, bowing like subjects to a monarch, were the Citadel's walls inhabitants, the ones who hid in the clouds and devoured anything that dared explore the misty layer.
An army of eight-legged beasts, of different sizes but all of the same kind, the mystical race of the Sky-Silk Weavers. There were some specimens bigger than Fang that stepped forward, almost crushing the car-sized spider under them. They bowed in front of Nash, clearly intending to curry some favor with him or something.
The young man coldly grinned as he walked up to Fang and pressed his hand against his hairy skin.
"Good job, Fang."
The spider shrieked confusedly.
"F...ang?"
Nash smacked his lips dejectedly, before rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, that's right. I...didn't name you, yet. You'll be Fang starting from now. You're in command of all these guys, even the big ones," He patted the spider, feeling its surprise and happiness through the Araneae Link. The young man walked past the creature over to the practically dead knights, reduced to puddles of flesh and blood. It was a wonder as to how they were still alive after being crushed by Fang, but ultimately, it didn't matter.
Nash stepped in front of the nearest one and coldly pushed his halberd through the steel helmet, using his foot to press on it and crush the steel, skull, and brain under it. The halberd pierced through messily, blood splashing with a disgusting squishing noise. His head leaned back as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the boost in power entering his veins.
The more he did it, the more he enjoyed it. Feeling the strength enter his veins, enhancing him to transform him into something barely human, with abnormal power that could rip through stone and steel. The young man didn't let the sudden power scare him and he killed the other two knights, fulfilling the requirements for the Ruler of the Battlefield's Trial, the Trial of Strength.
A sudden pain seized his heart, forcing him to his knees as he gasped for air. The spiders around him approached worriedly, but Nash stopped them with a move of his hand. He grabbed his chest, feeling his heart compress and expand, the pain ringing in his whole body and making him fall face first, his mouth tasting the red sand tainted with blood.
'This...!' Nash's eye bulged out as he tried to push himself up the ground, only to convulse and slip back in the sand. His hands dug into the ground as he tried to grab anything he could, white lights flashing in and out in his eyes.
Finally, darkness filled his eyes, darker than the spiders, darker than night itself.
'Shit...Did I die again?' Nash pondered, before gasping deeply as light chased away the darkness, the air entering his lungs burning as it did. He brusquely sat himself up, his heart beating at an abnormally slow rate despite his panicked state. His surroundings hadn't changed, he was still lying in the Arena's sand, surrounded by a whole civilization of spiders.
Nash glanced down to his chest, the searing pain gradually calming down. He waited for a few seconds, holding his breath in fear of additional suffering, before sighing in relief. The pain disappeared like a bad dream, replaced by wide eyes and confusion as the young man looked at himself.
His body...Wasn't his body anymore.
He'd never seen anything like it. In his life on Earth, he'd been in pretty good shape, excellent if he dared say so, whereas he'd been reduced to a skinny bloke by the Tower's will.
But now?
Now, he felt like he was looking at a sword. A cold, steel sword that has been repeatedly drenched and tempered for infinite amount of times, until it became tough enough to be considered unbreakable. His muscles were taut as bowstrings, compacted and covered his skeleton like metal armor. Nash pressed his hand against his pectoral, almost tempted to whistle at how hard it was. The young man carefully stood up, feeling as if he was weighing the same as a feather while possessing the strength of a bear.
"What...happened to me?" Nash mumbled under the careful eyes of the spider army. He didn't take long to come up with an answer to that question.
The Trial of Strength.
It increased his strength by leaps and bounds, preparing him to receive the power of ten people compacted in a single body. Maybe it was more than that, maybe it was less, but the facts were there. Nash could feel how powerful he had become. He felt so strong he didn't feel anything as he stared at the army's biggest spider, one the size of a regular house. While it was nothing compared to the monster perched atop the Citadel, it remained a gargantuan monster that could slay dozens, if not hundreds of soldiers.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
And Nash felt like he could take it. The young man clenched his fists in amazement when the movement made his heart stop for a moment. He slowly looked at his left hand, his whole arm regrown in a more perfect version compared to before, strong like steel and resilient like stone. Nash snorted in awe, bemused, before shaking his head slightly. He bit down on his lower lips before traversing the Arena, the dark sea of spiders splitting open to let him pass.
Nash didn't even spare a glance at the first knight he killed as he picked his one-handed sword up, giving it a try as he cut through the air. The weapon was practically weightless and was dancing around his fingers like the pen he used to play with back when he was still going to school. The dangerous weapon had become only that, a toy he could fiddle with.
"Well..." Nash smirked before slipping the sword into his belt and jumping on Fang's back, connecting with the spider and giving it his orders. Fang shivered, before shrieking the words of the Patriarch to the rest of the army. The spiders, no matter their size, joined together in a synchronized shriek, letting Fang walk past them before following behind him. Nash grabbed the back of the spider, making sure he wouldn't fall from his ride accidentally, before bracing himself and sharing his readiness with Fang.
Fang shrieked one last time before jumping on the Arena's wall, climbing it with ease, followed by the tidal wave of spiders. The dark wave drove over the walls of the Citadel as it escaped the coliseum, ascending the massive tower their ancestors built, taking little to no time to reach the luxurious part of the castle, where the King and the nobles resided. Nash shouted, igniting the signal as the spiders cried and broke through the thick stones, their claws ripping out the bricks and digging a hole in the Citadel's wall. The rampart crumbled down into a hole wide enough for Fang to fit through, arriving in the pristine hallways where red light dominated and where knights stood in front of each column like solemn statues.
As soon as they broke in, Nash and Fang were met with a dozen knights in glistening armor, their halberds raised as they prepared to slay the evil beast that dared invade the King's Citadel. Nash sneered and grabbed the spider's fur tightly as it jumped against the hallway's hall, climbing up to the ceiling, and soon turning its back to the ground. Nash's legs tightened as he held himself on the spider while looking at the despairing knights who couldn't do anything but watch and run after them as they traveled through the Citadel's hallways.
The red stained glass bathed them in a crimson hue, the sound of the knights screaming angrily to try and get Fang's attention sounding like music to Nash's ears.
'It just feels great to have things go my way...' He thought with amusement as the angry screams soon turned to fear and despair as the rest of the spider intruded into the Citadel.
Nash's orders were simple: kill anything that moved a weapon around. He didn't care about the rest, but anything with a weapon was a threat, and he didn't have the time to be picky. The more time passed, the more he desperately felt like he wanted to leave this fucking, hellish floor that already killed him twice, so he could finally rest and put his mind at ease.
Well, his mind would only be truly at ease when he'll be with his sister, but that was another story, for another time.
Right now, the issue was to deal with the King, Aethon the Fourth, get the Trial of Faith done, complete the Hidden Scenario, and escape the First Floor. Simple, but complicated.
At least, as things stood, it didn't seem like he was going to die anytime soon, thanks to his unstoppable spider army and his reinforced body. Doing the Trial of Faith, whatever it was, would be more to get everything he could out of it rather than an obligation. Willingly risking his life for some obscure power felt mind-boggling, but Nash knew it was the best option. If the First Floor was that hard, and killed him twice already, he couldn't imagine the next Floors. What about the Second, the Third, etcetera etcetera?
But then, was there even an end to all these Floors?
Was there a ceiling to the Tower?
It was a question that would have to be answered later, for Fang, under Nash's careful guidance, was reaching the throne room, whose grandiose and extravagant door shone with golden filigree as it waited to be opened. All the knights in their path had been decimated by the spider army, which was rigorously following in Fang's footsteps.
The spider returned to the ground, Nash slowly descending from his back. He stepped in front of the golden door, inhaling deeply before assuming his hardest, coldest expression. He pressed his hand against the door, ignoring the bodies of the knights who had previously stood guard in front of it before being devoured by the smaller spiders, and pushed the door open.
The clamor of weapons and cries of fear welcomed him, alongside a volley of arrows. Nash took cover behind the door, the sound of the arrows hitting the gate similar to the one of raindrops hitting a window, only louder.
The young man pulled his sword out, the cold iron gleaming ominously under the stained glass's red light. He kicked the doors wide open, stretching his hand forward, the spiders rushing in and killing anything in their path. The whole time, Nash had remained silent, his lips sealed as he walked while watching the massacre.
The nobles were cowering behind their knights who fended off the spiders the best they could, before being swallowed by the sheer number of them and losing. The knights were devoured, as were the soldiers, their cries echoing in the Throne Room, blood repainting the walls and floor. Soon enough, there was no one alive to make a noise, besides Nash...and Aethon.
The King was frozen on his Throne, his face and skin pale as he looked like he had aged older by hundreds of years, his eyes trembling in terror in front of the pure horror that had taken place in front of his helpless eyes. The tide of spiders split open and Nash slowly walked up to the King, his sword rattling against the marble floor.
The young man moistened his lips before pressing the edge of his blade against the King's throat.
"Aethon..." said Nash as a cold grin appeared on his face. The King gulped heavily, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and sliding along his chin, to fall on Nash's sword.
"...N...Nash..." Aethon stammered, his eyes stuck on the iron touching his skin, drawing a little bit of blood. The young man took his sword back and walked back down, leaving Aethon to take a deep breath. Thoughtlessly, Nash pushed a brasier burning nearby serving as decoration, spreading the fire within to the Banyan banners, the black twisted tree with gnarled branches against a blood-red background sigil burning away in the purifying flames.
The young man planted his sword in the flames before walking back to Aethon, grabbing him by the neck and squeezing lightly. Even though he didn't put much force into it, the King's face didn't take much time to turn to a sick shade of purple. Before he could lose consciousness, Nash let go of him, ignoring the old man's coughs as he grabbed his hand and crushed it, grinning as he saw the pain in Aethon's eyes.
"ARGHHH!!!" The King cried, holding his broken hand against his chest. Nash drew a deep breath and tried to recover his calm.
"Aethon, where and what is the Trial of Faith?" He asked coldly, the King's eyes widening at the question.
"You...You can't be thinking...!" He whimpered, until Nash pressed his right foot on his kneecap and popped it open, the King almost blacking out as a result.
"Answer. The question."
The King slipped from his throne, lying on the ground in pain. He hissed through his teeth, his eyes filled with pain and despair.
"The...The Gate of Faith! You need..., to jump down the Gate of Faith!"
Nash frowned before walking back to his sword that he had left heating up.
"Keep talking."
King Aethon heaved with difficulty, crawling through the blood and gore, the spiders waiting around taking a few steps back in disgust of him.
"Hah...hah...Behind...The Throne...There's a hole in the ground...used in the old times...for rituals and executions..." Aethon explained while gasping for air between each word, the pain shutting him up each time. Luckily for him, it seemed like his desire to live was greater than the pain he felt. Glenn snorted and grabbed the searing hot sword, ignoring the sizzling of his flesh burning, unable to feel the pain. In addition to having become a monster of muscular strength, it seemed like his nerves had lost the capacity to transmit the pain to his brain. Or perhaps it was just a side-effect of the rage Nash was feeling.
He certainly couldn't tell at the moment.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He spat as he pierced through the old man's right leg, pinning it to the ground. The flesh burned black as the red blade cut through it, grilling slowly and cooking Aethon's leg from the inside.
"ARGHHH!!! PLEASEE!!!!! STOPPP THIS!!!!" The 'King' yelled as he cried painfully, gasping for air when Nash pulled the sword out.
"I, I'm not lying! You know it as well, this is the fucking tradition!" Aethon sobbed, cursing the pain as he grabbed his leg. Nash sneered and kicked him in the side, his hate of this horrible individual not dimming out the slightest.
"You're just trying to kill me, aren't you Aethon?" Nash questioned as he held the burning blade right next to the old man's face, who hurriedly scrambled away from it, screaming in fear of it. Nash smacked his lips, before planting his sword in the ground right next to the King.
"How many people passed the Trial of Faith, Aethon?"
The King's sobs slowed as he difficultly swallowed his saliva.
"A d...dozen...?"
Nash's eyebrows creased.
"And how many survived the fall?"
The King didn't reply, his lips shut. Nash sighed and picked his sword up, the skin on his right hand long gone and burned away. He stabbed through Aethon's shoulder, before moving the sword back and forth, using it as a saw to cut through the shoulder and detach the old man's right arm from his body. The King didn't even have the time to scream in pain that he lost consciousness, for Nash's greatest disappointment. Thankfully, after a few minutes of spiders devouring his left foot alive, Aethon woke up, his eyes bloodshot with pain as even his soul seemed to be trying to leave his body.
"How many? Survived. The fall?" Nash slowly asked, Aethon yapping in reply.
"N, none!"
Nash shook his head, before planting the burning sword in the old man's half-eaten leg and walking to the Throne, ignoring Aethon's cries of pain. He walked around it, finding a small, hidden door leading to a small hallway. He entered it, soon arriving in a dark, circular room where a hole wide enough to let a man jump through was open in the ground, whistling wind coming from it. Nash rubbed the temple of his nose, hesitating, before walking back to the King.
He still had a few debts to pay.
----------------------------------------
Aethon wheezed, his head bobbling to the side when a light smack woke him up. He spat out a black, rotten mouthful of blood, fear and pain filling his eyes. Nash looked down at him as he sat at the Gate of Faith's ledge.
"...I hope you slept well, Aethon," Nash muttered softly, grinning evilly. The old man slowly looked down at himself, finding his legs and arms missing, all the stumps cauterized messily, the pain in them a witness to the barbaric operation. The King gasped as tears welled up in his eyes when he realized where he was. He was also waiting on the Gate of Faith's ledge, the emptiness waiting for him to slip to swallow him and bring him to a crushing death.
"Nash, don't...don't do that!" Aethon's eyes widened with horror. The young man smiled falsely as he looked down the Gate of Faith.
"Do you know how painful it is to die from such a fall?"
"Of course not—"
"It's painless. The shock is so brutal and fast, that your brain is reduced to a bloody pulp faster than he can realize. Before you know it, you're dead."
"W...What?" Aethon mumbled confusedly as he listened to Nash's divagations.
"Which is why I think it's pretty nice of me to let you have such a nice, painless death," Nash concluded as he pushed Aethon down the hole. The King screamed as he felt the void pulling at him when Nash suddenly grabbed him and pulled him back to safety.
"Oh—Hah, phew." Aethon sighed in relief, Nash chuckling at the sight.
"Oh, don't be relieved yet. I just almost forgot to take your eyelids off."
"What do you mean—ARGHHHH!!!" Aethon screamed painfully as Nash ripped his eyelids off barehanded, blood flooding the King's already red eyes. Nash gave him a friendly smile and pat on the back, before pushing him down the Gate of Faith. He watched with satisfaction as Aethon fell for a long time, probably a few minutes before disappearing away from his sight to be crushed into a bloody pulp.
"...Well, my turn now," Nash whispered as he jumped down the hole. He prayed one last time for him to be right and that he wouldn't die for nothing, but he had his doubts.
The cold wind whistled past his ears as he flew down the sky. He turned back in the air to look at the Citadel growing smaller and smaller as he approached the ground, piercing through a layer of clouds and getting out of it at extreme speed. Instead of falling uncontrollably as he had during his first life in the Citadel, he was instead trying to go as quickly as possible, to get done with this matter as quickly as possible.
'I fucking killed myself, didn't I? Well, I hope I'll wake up in that tasteless room again then. If not...No, I'll wake up there and try again,' Nash convinced himself as he whistled down the sky, his fall unstoppable when suddenly, he stopped.
As if time had stopped itself, the wind died down, the cold disappeared, and the ground didn't grow any closer.
Nash's fall had just stopped still in the sky. The young man didn't have the time to be shocked that a blue window appeared in his eyes, bearing good news...
[The Ruler of the Sky gazes upon you. He smiles and laughs, wondering whether it was your enemy or just stupidity that pushed you into this hole. Nevertheless, he has to reward this entertaining spectacle. May your passage into the Otherworld go unhindered, and have a painless Death.]
As soon as Nash finished reading, he resumed his fall, the ground swallowing him up as he made contact with it.
...
...
...
[Death counter]
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[...3...]