The crowd’s cheer decided what Chris had to do. His first target was challenger one, who was still trying to stand up, despite the world spinning around him and the spectators’ voices swimming through his brain like a school of fish.

Challenger one had just managed to sit up and was about to get on a knee so that he could propel himself to a standing position when a shadow came over him. Chris stood in front of him and blocked some of the spotlights shining on the ring.

Chris took a deep breath and gathered strength before turning in place and unleashing a spinning heel kick toward the place between challenger one’s skull and neck. Since he had time to focus all his strength, Chris was able to show off all the power his strengthened body could muster. Challenger one was powerless to defend himself and was in the perfect position for Chris’ kick to strike true.

The decapitation was by no means clean. If anything, it was the opposite. Chris’ kick was powerful, and it broke challenger one’s neck with enough force to tear his skin as well, at least partially.

Challenger one’s neck released a spray of blood that splattered Chris and the ring. His head hung limply on his shoulder, attached with nothing more than a few strips of skin.

Blood squirted out as if challenger one’s neck was a fountain two times before the body and head thumped to the floor, and blood pooled on the ring.

Chris grimaced slightly at the blood that splattered on him and the crowd’s roars. The sound bounced around the Cube and resonated to incredible volumes. Chris considered covering his ears just because of the crowd’s deafening cheer. But he was smart enough not to do that.

The bloody and gory execution had whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Doing something so trivial as covering his ears might help them calm down, which was something neither Chris nor any of Wither’s executives wanted.

So, Chris did his best to shut out all the noise as he moved to challengers one and three. Since challenger one had already gotten such a terrible death, Chris didn’t bother giving the other two anything extreme. He just stomped on their heads with enough force to send blood and brain juice splattering outside the ring.

Chris raised his hands in triumph, which only further helped the crowd get lost in the excitement of a grueling, blood-boiling battle.

Fights in town and on the streets weren’t so rare that the residents never saw something like it. But it only rarely got so intense between only a few people. Usually, only two or three guys would duke it out until they had settled whatever caused it. If someone died, they would wait until they recovered before heading to Potato Pot and forcing a portion down. It would be wrong to say they would be enjoying the meal together.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But the opening fight of the Cube battle arena was, first of all, exclusive to those who paid to enter on a first come, first serve basis. But it was also a fight purely for the sake of fighting. And it was between the three challengers who boldly rose up to the champion in a bid for wealth and glory and the champion who defended his position as the king of the hill.

The story was rough and just there as a bonus, but it was enough to make the crowd more interested in the fight. Who would win, and who would lose? Would the challengers come out victorious and live the rest of their lives squandering their wealth? Or would they lose everything and then some?

The inflated expectations compounded with the tension and thrill of being able to bet on the outcome. People cheered on the challengers because if the challengers won, so would they. And it was the same with the champion.

And then, as more and more people got excited and cheered, the atmosphere inside the Cube continued rising until there was no stopping it. The people of Vanitapolis, who had lost their sense of excitement and become filled with boredom and apathy, happily drowned in the intoxicating, addictive, cheery, and intense atmosphere inside the Cube.

It was the most fun and exciting thing to have happened in Vanitapolis in ages.

Micah taking over Vanitapolis had stirred some embers of hope and feelings of wonder and amazement. It was the most change to have affected Vanitapolis since Artholomew made everyone play chess with him, after all.

But Micah taking over Vanitapolis was barely more than idle gossip. Those who weren’t directly involved, like Micah’s immediate subordinates, couldn’t feel excited about it.

However, the Cube and its opening fight were different. It was more than a gladiator battle. It was a promise toward the residents of Vanitapolis. The boring old days of sleeping all day to pass the time were gone.

It hadn’t been enough time to spread that promise to all of Vanitapolis, but as soon as the doors opened and the intoxicated spectators flooded out, Vanitapolis would undeniably change.

Micah smiled. But he didn’t open the doors to the Cube. The night had only begun, and it would be a waste not to take advantage of this atmosphere. He gave some orders to Art, who had come up to the soundproofed booth after all the fighters were on stage.

Art and the four clerks, two of which had been receivers, and the other two who had come to enjoy the show, followed him.

Since there hadn’t been any seats, they had been allowed to watch the fight from the booth with Micah and the executives. However, they had been too nervous, so they huddled together in a corner and didn’t pay too much attention to the fight. If they had, they might have been better prepared for the task Micah assigned them.

But it wasn’t like they had a choice, and the clerks had already realized how good it was to be on Micah’s good side, so they gritted their teeth and followed orders.