Two muscular n stood atop a massive arena stage, locked in a tense standoff.
Both of them had massive, ripped physiques like professional bodybuilders.
The first man was in a battle stance, clearly nervous, eyes sharp and body tense, ready to strike at any mont.
The other man, by contrast, wore a calm expression, not even bothering to look directly at the opponent in front of him.
Gong... Gingin...
A bell-like sound echoed across the stadium, signaling the start of the battle.
Without wasting a second, the agitated man slamd his foot against the stage. As if by magic, sharp pieces of stones broke off from the ground and began hovering behind him.
Yet, the man with the calm expression didn't move.
He made no attempt to counter.
"Die for , you f..." the man with the stone growled.
But just before he could finish his sentence, the calm man slowly reached for the knife at his waist.
He drew it slightly from its sheath... then, just as suddenly, slid it back in.
The attacking man's arm froze mid-swing.
A thin red line appeared on his neck.
The floating stone dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
Panicking, the man grabbed at his throat with both hands, eyes wide as he stared at his opponent.
Then, in an instant, he collapsed, his body falling to the floor and his head rolling off to the side.
It had all happened in less than a second.
--
"YEEESSSSSS...!!!"
The crowd erupted. Millions of spectators filled a stadium so vast it seed to stretch into the sky. The volu was deafening.
"God... Speed... WINS!!!"
A short man ran into the middle of the stage, screaming at the top of his lungs.
He pointed at the calm fighter, who still looked completely unbothered, as though the entire fight had been beneath his notice.
"God Speed!"
"God Speed!"
"God Speed!!"
The chants echoed from all corners of the stadium.
Inside a VIP room overlooking the battle, a woman glared at a casually dressed man who sat relaxed, smiling from ear to ear. Several others were seated beside them, all with similarly bitter looks on their faces.
"You just brought your candidate to bully us," the woman said coldly.
The man didn't even look at her as he took another sip from his drink. "Don't be a sore loser. Your candidates are just too weak, That's why it looked like bullying."
The other VIPs' expressions darkened further.
The man took another slow sip, then glanced around the room at their angry faces and laughed loudly.
"Haha… Don't tell you guys are planning to back out of our bets?" he said with a grin.
"No..."
"No."
"…No."
The replies ca one after the other.
The man placed his glass on the table with a loud clink. His smile vanished.
"I hope so. After all… the ga isn't over yet."
His gaze shifting back to the stage.
Several people in the room felt a chill run down their spines. A few even swallowed nervously.
--
"God Speed!!"
"God Speed!!"
The crowd's chant thundered on.
Elsewhere in the stadium, buried in the sea of spectators, a skinny guy with popcorn stuffed his face. White powdered milk stained the corners of his mouth.
Beside him slouched a masked teenager, arms crossed, face unreadable.
""Ugh…" Tarkan exhaled with a mix of boredom and irritation. He couldn't take it anymore.
To most people, it might've looked like God Speed hadn't moved an inch during the fight, but to him? The man was just too fast. Even Tarkan himself couldn't block that kind of speed.
He had also applied and participated in the matches. He'd collected, cough cough borrowed 2000 gold coins from Slim, which he used to place bets.
So far, he'd managed to win over 8000 gold coins, which was not bad, considering he'd only bet on his own matches.
His odds had started at 1:89, but with each win, they dropped steadily until now they sat at 1.09.
Sigh...
Tarkan let out another deep sigh.
"All the talent here is garbage," he thought. "Not even worth wasting my talent on."
He had co expecting to see spectacular fights, maybe even learn sothing new about the upper dinsions.
But all the fighters here were still stuck in the first dinsion.
From what he'd seen, most of them had only maxed out their feral points and nothing else.
He couldn't believe how many had signed up, even knowing this was a death match, aning only one man standing alive.
And if you were unlucky enough to get paired against a monster like God Speed, soone even he couldn't beat in a fair fight, you'd have no choice but wanting to quit.
But quitting cost 100,000 gold coins.
Everything about this tournant felt like a scam.
Sigh...
Tarkan groaned and glanced at Slim, who was in the middle of grabbing another handful of popcorn.
"…Is the popcorn really that good?" Tarkan asked, eyebrows raised. Slim had been devouring it non-stop since he'd introduced him to the powdered milk topping.
"I don't want the milk to go to waste," Slim said matter-of-factly.
Tarkan stared at him for a mont, then shook his head.
No point arguing.
They were already down to the semifinals. Only about 50 contestants remained.
Tarkan was fed up. But thanks to the contract he signed, he couldn't leave unless he quit the tournant altogether.
The whole thing was dragging on painfully. He wished he could just fast-forward through the rest. To think he'd be stuck here until the finals tomorrow…
"Ughh…"
Just then, an announcent snapped him back to reality.
"Next match-up!"
"Sinbad and Tarkan…!!!"
"Please approach the waiting area!"
The short announcer guy scread the nas into the mic.
Nobody cheered.
Tarkan didn't mind. He hadn't done anything flashy in his matches so far.
Nothing worth rembering, and he was perfectly fine with that.
He quickly checked his odds on his wristband.
1.13
He clenched his jaw.
Still low.
Odds of winning 1.13.
Tarkan sighed again.
Frustrated, he closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, trying to center himself.
Then leaned in toward Slim and whispered sothing into his ear. He transferred all 8000 gold coins to Slim.
And without another word, he stood and walked toward the waiting area.
...
Hey legends, I'm still kicking! 😎
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