Zalanir crawled back, stood up, and to his best attempt, plucked the dagger out from his back. He had numerous similar kinds of injuries before from all the fights he had taken, but this time, as the small weapon came out millimeter by millimeter, his flesh got heated up and pinched, wiggling along with the pull.

  The dagger wasn’t the sharpest kind, so it took an extra effort for him to get it out. Pain spread out from that wound throughout his whole back, paralyzing and urging him to scratch it. Though it was the madness and thirst that came with it that was the problem. They goaded him to not be a coward standing there, but instead to go in and pay this shit back to the sneaky bastard.

  He tried to suppress the feeling. It wouldn’t be the best course of action, considering they had basically a small armed force comprising about forty members. Besides the Red Nose, he also saw the naked man who had had a bout with Ulken the first day he came here, as well as the man with a whole additional arm growing from the back.

  But his restraint became naught as a fighter in the back fired off a fireball. In that instance, the spell acted like a beacon, screaming at everyone to get the main fight going. And so it did.

  A big man in cloth armor readied himself with a lion-like roar, magnetizing eyeballs from both foes and allies. His body was brimming with a purple veil visible to the eyes. As one of the front runners, he just launched his body onto the enemies, and then pushed one guard off while at the same time receiving a sword cut to the right arm as if it was nothing.

  Another fighter conjured two black tentacles from his flanks, effectively giving him another two arms to go about. Similar to the big man, he also charged forward without hesitation. Or rather, with overloaded eagerness.

  As the fighters and the guards engaged, Zalanir failed to hold back his lust. This was a very strange feeling, but at this moment, he just wanted to let it out. Thus, he stepped forward. One step followed another. Then one step brought him further, and it became a leap. Before he knew it, or before he registered what was going on, a sound bolt had staggered a guard, and his knee slammed into said guard’s belly with full vigor.

  It was different compared to the parade back when he went up against the Zerkshi mercenaries. He was in more control of his body and especially his mind at the time, but now, his viewport was masked by a light red shade. The mask pulsed stronger for each attack he landed or received. There was no true “white” anywhere. His head was now under a blood ocean, with red water plaguing all other colors, as if the existence of other shades in pure form would violate its domicile.

  A fist struck his flank. He repaid with a punch and a kick.

  A frost bolt found his back. He threw three random bolts at the nearest guard behind.

  A sword slashed his shoulder. He replied with a slash of a brown dagger that he didn’t even remember how it was in his hand and slammed the motherfucker in the face with a translucent shield.

  Everything was “took and gave”, “back and forth”, “you did one, I returned double”. The pendulum swung constantly as he squeezed through any gap. His lust indulged, but never satiated. Not until he saw a certain Red Nose bullying a fighter. Clarity briefly returned.

  Like an arrow, Zalanir shot himself straight toward the target, thrusted the dagger into the man’s back. Then he laughed. Not the kind of laugh that he usually did in his mind, but the variant that rippled through the air and reached everyone’s ears. Do you enjoy it, rat?

  The back of an arm slapped his face, pushing him off and destabilizing his body. He almost lost his foothold but managed to plant the left leg behind to counter the force.

  “Let’s see how are you going to escape today,” the Red Nose yelled.

  Zalanir fought rather recklessly, not only because of the overwhelmed bloodlust but also because he would have no chance in a prolonged fight. The one he lost in the arena was mostly due to his exhaustion. He needed to overpower that annoying healing in one go; otherwise, he doubted that he could get away still in one piece this time.

  He traded a slash to his thigh for a fire bolt in the man’s chest. Following that was another exchange of a metal bolt for a punch. When the Red Nose threw two small sphere objects, Zalanir reactively erected a shield to block them. Those couldn’t be allowed to stick to his body, otherwise he would be weighed down and lose his speed. He had learned this lesson from the last time and after asking Lithma about the man. Apparently, the Red Nose was a warrior specializing in debuffed attacks. Even Lithma found the man’s fighting style irritating.

  The close-quarter combat continued until a fighter fell onto their spot, temporarily separating the two. Glancing over, it appeared to be the corpse of a man with a thick beard. The cause was the sword penetrating his belly.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Zalanir took this chance to catch a breath. His mind was still fuzzy, but perhaps thanks to all the attacks taken, he had somewhat regained a bit of clarity back. His health was down to less than half. The other two still yet to fall below the 60% mark, but with four of the spheres he had contracted not long ago, he doubted the yellow bar would be able to hold on for long.

  The reason for his low health was that annoying draining skills that the Red Nose made now and then. Zalanir had no idea how that attack worked, but whenever the enemy formed the cross signal using the two index fingers, a red line of energy would be transferred from his nearest body parts to the Ned Nose. It wasn’t hard to associate that red line with his health bar.

  He aimed his bolts at nearby guards. Distraction. He needed some kind of distraction to not repeat the old result.

  Two guards ignored their respective enemies and went to attack Zalanir. Instead of running away, Zalanir formed a big shield in the air and shoved it onto the angry guards. He tanked a cut on his back by the Ned Nose in the process, but succeeded in halting the two guards in their spots, allowing the two fighters on their tails to connect their attacks. Stumbling to the side, Zalanir used a sound bolt to temporarily disturb a guard, who then failed to block a hammer from bonking his head. The skull was crushed, with brains splattered on the floor.

  The big man, who delivered the killing blow, let loose a huge roar. His torso was littered with bruises, but also some sort of bubbling purple energy. Now that the situation was 3-versus-2, Zalanir was more confident that he could—

  Pain. That was all he perceived now that his back was stabbed by yet another sharp point. The health bar in the right corner started to flicker, which meant he was now in critical condition. Red cloud came back to haunt his mind again, just like at the beginning of the battle, but he bit his tongue, hoping to keep himself still true to his thoughts. He couldn’t fall under the effect of the lust or whatever it was again. It would be stupid not to realize that by now.

  Because he had managed to keep his brain functional, Zalanir realized what was going on. The Red Nose was the culprit responsible for the stab. That damn rat was standing right behind Zalanir. That was the first important information, but not the critical one. The thing he paid attention to the most was the sight of the big man whom he had just helped running over to his spot, which in fact was just several meters away.

  He entered the fight looking for a way to overpower the opponent’s resilience, and what was better than having another hand helping out? Red Nose could survive his attacks, but how about two at the same time?

  Ignoring the excruciating pain the best he could, and ignoring the protesting from his logical mind, Zalanir stored forces into his legs and then used them to drive his body backward. The movement did catch the Red Nose off guard, just like he had predicted — or risked. Feeling the hand holding the weapon no longer there, Zalanir turned around and spammed point-blank sound bolts, keeping the enemy in place, while readying his focus to prepare for a timely shield.

  Three seconds later, the Red Nose received a shoulder bash on the face, but instead of flying away, he fell right down because of the presence of a translucent plane right behind. Zalanir had prepared to rush forward in case the shield didn’t work, but the proximity between him and the enemy had acted in his favor in this instance.

  Zalanir moved forward and carried out the most non-mage, street-fight attack ever. It was an action that he had never thought of doing in this magical world, but in this moment, it seemed to be a good choice. If the head and the heart were the two most important parts of anyone under B-grade, then he just needed to … stomp it? His legs were free, anyway.

  And thus, after a series of sound bolts and stomps, with an in-between hammer slam by the big man, the Red Nose was laying there, no longer identifiable. The red nose especially was squashed like an overripe tomato falling down from the tree.

  You have slain [Human — Level 34]

  Level advances to 29

  Level advances to 30

  Zalanir was about to burst into laughter at the scene after exploding the man’s head, but the sight of a human lying prone on the floor sent a signal to his brain that paralyzed his brain and his body as well. He had just killed the first human. And the worst was that he had enjoyed it at the end.

  What … did I .. just do?

  Even though part of himself had been preparing for this outcome that would inevitably come, as there was no way he could get away with not doing it in a fighting pit, reality still struck him dumbfounded.

  His heart pounded and pounded, then gradually hammered up and down. Suffocating. He inhaled and exhaled in short snorts. His knees gave up and slammed the red, damp ground. Thud. Thud. Thud. Sound by sound, beat by beat, his heart was losing control. His body convulsed. As time ticked by, his body now turned colder and colder, as a stream of icy energy went for a round inside his veins.

  He snapped out of this stage when the big fighter’s eyes somehow cut into his. A frosty glance, likely wondering what he was doing, but in his mind, it was mockery, as if there was a whisper in his ears sneering at the stupid compassion and self-questioning that he had fallen into. A part of his brain kept screaming for him to continue fighting.

  But he couldn’t. Thus, he ran. He still registered everything happening around, even the sight of Ulken laughing like a maniac after slitting the throat of the naked man from that gang. The rebel force was winning, but he no longer cared. No, he had never cared in the first place. He went along with it because he didn’t want to stay behind alone, and somewhat got caught in this bloodlust and vicious battle for freedom. No, he needed to distance himself from all of this.

  But where? He had no idea. Thus, when he spotted Djaxinz running out of the back of the arena to vanish outside the broken fences surrounding the fighting pit, he followed along. At least this man wasn’t a danger to him, and at least this man was strong.