Chapter 61 ‒ Arena of Wrath
Chapter 61 ‒ Arena of Wrath
The crowd erupted as a red-tinged figure emerged from the dissipating poison cloud. Tyler stood tall, his eyes burning crimson, veins glowing like molten steel across his arms. His entire body trembled not from weakness, but from sheer rage. He was a walking embodiment of fury—and all of it was pointed squarely at the opponent who had dared to make him relive his worst nightmare.
“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO USE A POISON GAS BOMB OF ALL THINGS?!” he roared.
Velin, stumbling backward, her daggers barely held in her hands, gasped at the sight. She had seen monsters in the Arena. She had seen merciless brutes, killing machines, and soulless gladiators. But what she saw in Tyler’s eyes was different. It wasn’t just violence.
It was pain.
“I-I don’t know how you survived that,” she stammered. “But I can’t lose! I won’t lose! I need this! I need my freedom! You think I care about honour or rules? I’ve rotted long enough in this pit. If I win, I get out! That’s all that matters to me!”
Tyler didn’t respond. He continued his approach, step by step, his swords now drawn and gleaming.
“WHHHYYY?!” he repeated, his voice now lower but no less intense.
Velin snarled in frustration. “Oh goddammit, stop repeating the same thing again and again! Has the poison affected only your mind?!”
In a flash, Tyler activated [Berserk] and lunged. His twin swords came crashing down in an arc, forcing Velin to raise both daggers in a crossed defence. But instead of completing the strike, Tyler stopped his blades a hair’s breadth away and delivered a savage kick to her arms.
Her daggers clattered across the ground as she cried out in pain.
“Do not worry,” Tyler growled, standing over her, “I will not kill you. But I will make sure you remember this lesson for the rest of your life.”
Velin gritted her teeth, reaching behind with her tail to draw her last dagger. With a desperate cry, she sprinted toward him—but Tyler met her halfway with [Forcepush].
A gust of energy slammed into her, sending her skidding across the arena floor. The last dagger slipped from her hand. As she reached for it, Tyler raised his palm.
[Activated Skill: Spider Web]
Sticky threads exploded forward, pinning Velin to the ground. She screamed and struggled, her limbs immobilized. Tyler calmly approached and reinforced the bindings with another wave of [Spider Web], binding her further.
“Try using another poison bomb now,” he said coldly, placing his boot on her midsection. Her eyes widened in panic.
She sobbed, “I forfeit! I forfeit! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done it! I’m sorry! Please! Please spare me! I didn’t want to go back to that prison! I was scared, I didn’t know what else to do! I panicked!”
But Tyler wasn’t listening to her pleas.
He raised his hand, forming a small swirling [Fireball]. The crowd chanted louder than ever.
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“KILL HER! KILL HER! KILL HER!”
Velin’s cries became shrill as Tyler shot another web over her mouth. She writhed in terror, muffled screams barely escaping. The fireball hovered above his palm, glowing brighter.
In the stands, a hooded figure crossed their arms and muttered, “So this is how it ends for you, [Player]? I had expected better. But sometimes, you have to lose yourself before you can find your true self. It’s not my time to intervene. Not yet. Ah this weather sucks, I am literally melting!”
Tyler looked down at Velin, at the terror in her eyes, and heard her muffled begging.
“Do you know what real poison is?” he whispered. “It eats you from within. Your bombs? They’re nothing. That poison inside me? That’s rage. Hatred. And thanks to your little trick, it’s awake again. You will now taste it.”
He reached toward his skill list.
[Skill Selected: Poison Mist]
But his finger hovered.
He froze.
A voice whispered in his head—his own voice.
What am I doing? Was I really about to use Poison Mist? After everything? After Milo? After vowing never again?
No. No, this isn’t me. This isn’t who I want to be.
Everything slowed. The fireball faded. The rage dimmed.
This… This is what Drellic wants. For me to become a beast. A monster. To give in.
Tyler’s chest heaved. His hand lowered. He looked down at Velin, now unconscious from fear. The arena had grown silent. The crowd was confused.
He turned and walked away.
The crowd stared. Not a boo. Not a cheer. Just stunned silence. They had wanted blood—but what they saw instead was a glimpse into something far more terrifying: restraint from a man who could’ve unleashed destruction. The same crowd that had jeered him before now sat frozen, unwilling to provoke him again.
I would have killed her. I nearly did. I would’ve crossed a line I can’t return from. But something stopped me… No. Someone stopped me. Milo. Thank you.
He collapsed into a seat in the corner of the arena, ignoring the murmurs. All he could think about was how close he had come to losing himself. He looked at Velin’s collapsed form as she was dragged back into the prison she feared most. And he whispered to himself, “I will come back for her.”
---
Meanwhile, in the office overlooking the arena, Drellic Wane leaned back in his chair as the Collector entered.
“Manager Wane,” the rat hybrid said, bowing. “I’m back with the latest update.”
“Come in,” Drellic said. “Let’s hear the numbers.”
“There has been a fifty percent rise in the number of people betting for [Player] rather than against him. If this trend continues, we will end up in the same situation as that of Kragg the Fallen. We will lose money if [Player] wins.”
“Hoho, is that the case?”
“Yes sir.”
“I see, judging by his last match, it was natural. After seeing him holding back in the first three rounds, I was assured that things would go exactly like I planned. But this fighter Velin or whatever, managed to anger him enough to use his full strength.”
The rat hybrid nodded in agreement.
“Now that’s a problem. Collector, who is going to be his opponent in the semifinals?”
“Sir, as per my report, all the semi-finalists barring Kragg and [Player] have already forfeited, or most likely will.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes sir, so I was wondering how we should proceed with the semifinals. Should we just force them to fight, like we always do?”
Drellic thought for a while and replied, “No wait. No need to force them to fight. The audience are probably not interested in fodder fights anyways. Let’s just proceed with the final showdown straightway.”
The collector got confused, “Final showdown straightaway? You mean—”
Drellic continued, “Yes, advance our champion Kragg and our wild card [Player] directly to the final round. Let Kragg complete the quarterfinal round, and then we will wait for a bit. To build anticipation for the final round. And you, you collect all the gold you can from the people willing to bet during that time. I’m pretty sure we will see some interesting results.”
“Understood sir, I’ll relay this to the announcer. I’ll take my leave.”
“Oh, and has he arrived?”
“Not yet Manager, but he will be here pretty soon.”
Drellic Wane looked down at the Arena where Kragg was just about to finish off his opponent. “Ah the smell of gold. It’s so strong that it’s overwhelming. Thank you Kragg and thank you [Player]. It would’ve been impossible without you.”
In a far-off corridor, quiet footsteps echoed.
Click. Clack. Tinkle.
The sound of hooves and bells.
A hulking figure approached the Arena.
Something… primal.
Something wild.
Something new.
The next storm was on its way.