Chapter 67: Smiling Battle Psychopath

Lev scratched the side of his head, holding his sword at his side.

"Ah, fuck bruv. You might be a bit weird, but I don’t want to swing a sword at some defenseless idiot." Lev glanced at the arbiter. "Missy, can you provide him a sword or something?"

The announcer cocked her head at Lev’s request, then turned back to the crowd and continued her spiel about where to bet and who the fighters were.

Lev sighed.

"Bruv, do yourself and me a favor and just resign."

Lucas laughed lightly, then said:

"It’s fine. I don’t need a sword. I watched your earlier fight. That’s all the proof I need that my knuckles are enough."

Dumbfounded, Lev’s mouth fell slightly agape. He was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth and dropped his sword. He then raised his fist and punched the air.

"Fuck it, I’m game."

Lucas laughed, then pointed at the sword.

"Friend, I’d suggest you pick that up."

Lev shook his head and shamelessly did just as Lucas said:

"Ah... the other guy was quite the asshole, so I didn’t mind swinging it at him. But, honestly, you might be worse."

Veins bulged across the man’s forehead as he clenched his blade.

The only response Lucas gave was a warm smile.

Patiently, Lucas waited for ten minutes to pass, then the arbiter fled the arena, signaling the match had started.

Lucas wasted no time on words.

He immediately charged Lev while lightly guiding his Aether to be evenly distributed throughout his body.

The man responded by seemingly empowering just his arms, then cleaved down at the charging Lucas.

’Slower than a damn goblin.’

Despite Lev’s claim of hate, the strike was still hesitant, allowing Lucas to easily slip to the side.

That was all it took for Lucas to close the distance.

’I’ve always wanted to try Vale Tudo.’

Lucas gripped Lev’s wrist holding the sword and held it still.

Lev tried to pry his arm away, but Lucas stepped on his toes with his left foot.

Awkwardly stumbling back, Lev’s arm extended fully.

Lucas was already raising his Aether-reinforced right knee, driving it into Lev’s forearm.

A hefty crunch resounded throughout the arena.

Lev cried out as he dropped his sword, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Gyreaaah!"

Lucas gave his torment no rest.

He let go of Lev’s broken right arm and grabbed his left one. Still pushing down on his toes to hold him still, Lucas gripped his arm as tightly as he could and tore it in either direction.

His intent was simply to break the arm, but his strength was beyond anything he had previously been capable of — he’d failed to properly control himself.

With only slight resistance, Lucas tore Lev’s flesh straight off, exposing his radius.

"Guh!"

Even he was a little disgusted.

Still, he mercilessly finished the job by holding Lev’s arm still with one hand and punching it with the other.

Crying, Lev fell onto his back as Lucas let him go. Immediately, he tried to scream:

"I sur-"

Lucas quickly cut that shout short by football-kicking him in the jaw.

"Shhh."

Taking a step away, Lucas beckoned with his hand while a wild smile split his face, then said:

"Get up."

Lev cried out again.

"I shu-rehndhur."

Yet whoever officiated the match didn’t intervene. He then tried to open his palms, but he couldn’t move his left hand, let alone raise it.

Tentatively, Lev fought his instincts and staggered to his feet.

Then...

He peed himself and passed out, falling on his back.

"Ah. I way overdid it. Got a bit too caught up..."

Sadly, that wasn’t nearly enough to relieve Lucas’s anxiety.

A moment later, a blue flash enveloped Lev and spat him up into the stands. He immediately woke up with a perfectly healed body, but the terror etched on his face as he frantically looked around and patted his arms said the opposite about his mind.

Lucas’s gaze drifted around the arena.

Almost all of the spectators looked upon him with fear and disgust.

The announcer appeared and asked Lucas a few questions, saying he could cut and run or stay and fight. Without much thought, he made his choice.

The announcer then turned to the crowd and cheered:

"Lucas Hajek of Camelot is the winner! If you wagered on this match... Lucas has chosen to fight again!"

***

None who witnessed Lucas’s fight dared to challenge him. However, soon enough, those who’d just discovered the arena and heard of someone waiting inside ignorantly decided to challenge him.

They all received treatment similar to Lev’s, though Lucas did tone it down on the brutality.

It seemed fighting goblins for so long had really messed up his sense of morality. While these people were opponents in the arena, they were meant to be his allies outside, yet he was fighting as if ready to kill them at any moment.

He had to recognize these as something other than deathmatches, which became surprisingly hard after the last month.

Anyway, he’d switched from joint locks and breaking bones with leverage to mostly punching and some kicking.

Eventually, the flow of challengers stopped.

It seemed he’d grown quite the reputation as people were apparently blocking the registration booth and warning people about him.

However, that merely caused the challengers to lessen in quantity but increase in quality. Some even possessed Relics, though none of the items had been good enough to close the gap between them and Lucas’s unhinged nature.

That was until Lucas’s current opponent...

Breathing heavily, Lucas jumped away.

’A spear...’

He’d only ever fought a person wielding a sword so far. This new opponent was wielding a spear. Moreover, the way he wielded it made it seem as though it wasn’t something he’d just picked up after being summoned. The man had clearly been trained in the art and mastered it long before ending up here.

Worse, it was clear the spear was a Relic of sorts as it manifested out of thin air when their bout began.

Walking around, Lucas studied the various blades on the ground, then found a sword that matched his liking.

The spearman simply watched him.

After picking up the sword and settling into a stance, Lucas returned the stare.

For a minute, the man and Lucas remained locked in each other’s gaze, each attempting to gauge the other’s strength.

They circled one another until Lucas broke the stalemate, creeping closer. He stopped about two and a half meters away, just beyond the spear’s reach.

If he could close that gap, the win was as good as his.

Stepping forward, Lucas slashed at the spear.

Expertly, the man knocked his sword aside with the spearhead and jabbed.

Lucas twisted away from the point by mere centimeters, then retreated beyond its reach.

After catching his breath, he advanced again. This time, rather than rushing the strike, he carefully angled his sword and knocked the spear off course.

Unable to recover his blade quickly enough for another swing, he drove a kick toward the man instead.

To his dismay, the spearman spun his weapon and caught the kick against its shaft.

A half-step backward restored the distance between them, but the reprieve lasted only an instant.

The spear shot forward.

Lucas raised his sword vertically, trying to catch the thrust against the flat of the blade.

This wasn’t a movie, however; the block didn’t halt the attack perfectly. From such an awkward position, he couldn’t match the force behind the thrust. His sword struck the spear but only robbed it of some momentum.

The point punched into Lucas’s shoulder.

He recoiled, clutching his left shoulder as searing pain tore through it. Blood streamed from the wound and ran down his body.

Rather than pursue, the man stepped back, content to let Lucas weaken with every drop he lost.

Unable to slow the bleeding, Lucas could only guard his injured side and rely more heavily on his right.

A terrible smile appeared on Lucas’s face.

’This! I’ve been waiting for someone like you!’

Although Lucas had no nifty Relic capable of turning the battle in his favor, he still had a little less than half of his Aether.

Pouring as much as he could into reinforcing his body, he charged the spearman for one final confrontation.

With his enhanced strength and speed, Lucas knocked the weapon from the man’s hands before he could react.

The spearman stumbled backward, and Lucas raised his sword above the man’s exposed head.

Victory was his.

Yet a split second before impact, he hesitated and pulled the strike.

Seizing the opportunity, the man rolled aside and snatched up his spear in the same motion.

Lucas had no qualms about beating someone senseless, but killing another human — even inside a coliseum — was different. Until now, every opponent had either surrendered or lost consciousness before he was forced to make that choice. He’d assumed that because he could kill humanoid goblins without much remorse, he could strike a person with lethal intent here, especially when no one truly died and every wound would be healed.

His mind had proven otherwise.

That hesitation had cost him the match, exposing a weakness in his resolve he hadn’t known existed.

With his strength and Aether spent, Lucas collapsed onto his knees. Blood continued to spill from his shoulder as his vision flickered in and out.

Staying conscious became a battle of its own.

Then something sharp pressed against his throat.

Lucas tried to look at the man and failed, unable to raise his head.

Using the spear, the man carefully lifted Lucas’s head for him.

Lucas spoke slowly as if he were dying — well... because that was exactly what was happening. Still, he managed to weakly mutter:

"My name is Lucas Hajek... May I know yours?"

Still, he trusted, or at least hoped, that he’d be healed. In truth, Lucas didn’t mind losing because he’d had fun fighting this man. The sheer exhilaration had cured him of a lot of his anxiety.

"I’m Shen Xiao," he responded. "Will you surrender?"

Lucas stared into his eyes with the brightest smile he could muster on his bloodied face:

"No."

The man’s eyes narrowed.

"It seems my judgment was correct. If that’s the case, I surrender."

"What?!"

With the man no longer there to support his head, Lucas’s gaze dropped to the floor.

The woman Lucas had seen much of that day now returned, but he could only raise his head enough to look at her feet.

She asked:

"Congratulations, your winnings total twelve silver. Would you like to keep fighting or retreat with your earnings?"

’Does it look like I can even move?’

"Send... me back."

With that, Lucas immediately found himself up in the stands. He felt as healthy as when he had first entered the arena, if not healthier.

"The winner of this fight is Lucas Hajek of Camelot... If you bet on the game, go to the broker to receive your winnings. As for fighting, no other fighters are lined up. Lucas has decided he does not want to fight again..."

He could go claim his earnings as well as the weapons later, for now...

Lucas turned his attention to the man beside him.

"Why did you surrender?"

"Why did you hesitate? If you hadn’t pulled back your strike, you would have won. My honor would not let me win due to pity."

Lucas bowed slightly.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look down on you."

The man turned and began to walk away.

"I understand. May we see each other around and fight again once you resolve yourself."

Lucas called out:

"Wait! Before you go... Are you interested in joining my guild?"