Chapter 345

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Insta-kill, insta-kill, it's always freaking insta-kill!

With just one finger, Abel effortlessly advanced to the 120th floor.

There, he encountered a 'familiar face'.

His opponent this time was one of the three who mocked him at the registration desk downstairs.

"It seems my luck is pretty good."

"So it's you, it looks like your luck isn't so good."

Just when Abel thought it was as if fate itself wanted him to teach this guy some manners, his opponent recognized him and revealed a confident smile.

Clearly, this guy hadn't seen Abel's previous matches in the arena.

Moreover, the other two were there as well, cheering loudly from the spectator seats, and certainly not missing the chance to mock Abel.

"Indeed, bugs like these should be crushed outright; otherwise, they keep buzzing in your ear, which is really irritating."

Abel muttered to himself, not taking his opponent seriously at all.

As the fight started, Abel, who usually waited for his opponent to make the first move, chose to attack first this time.

The overconfident guy only blinked, and suddenly Abel was in front of him?!

And at that moment, Abel's finger was already pressing against his chest.

Then, Abel adjusted his angle ever so slightly.

Boom!

A figure was sent flying out of the ring in an instant, crashing into the spectator seats.

Two were below, and one was above.

The three of them smashed into the wall in a stack, resembling a pile of dolls.

Number 1, with a sunken chest, was clearly no longer alive.

Numbers 2 and 3, with countless broken bones, were breathing more in than out, on the brink of expiring.

Amidst the chaos, doctors rushed over to administer emergency treatment.

"The results can be announced now, right?"

Abel, withdrawing his gaze, jolted the somewhat bewildered referee back to attention.

"Uh, victory to contestant Abel!"

Since it was a fighting arena, casualties were inevitable.

Therefore, every contestant had signed a waiver at registration.

However, it was rare for spectators to be killed by a contestant sent flying into their midst.

Clearly, the responsibility didn't lie with the contestants; the organizers had failed to ensure adequate safety measures.

As a result, the staff at the Sky Arena didn't give anyone a hard time and were prepared to offer compensation.

Sorry, but money allows for such impunity.

For Abel, who had casually taken out a few pests, there was no particular emotional turbulence; he merely enjoyed the quiet that followed.

Following incidents where Abel's opponents were sent flying into the spectator stands, causing casualties, all arenas involving him had their safety measures enhanced, with barriers erected.

This wasn't for the protection of the contestants, but for that of the spectators.

Against all odds, Abel reached the 190th floor without much effort.

Since he insta-killed his opponents with just one finger every time, he attracted countless spectators and was starting to make a name for himself.

Many were curious to see what kind of opponent would make him show his real skills.

By this point, those competing for money could have ended their journey since there were no cash prizes further up, with honor and reputation being the only incentives.

But clearly, the 190th floor was still far from Abel's goal.

"The victor is 'God's Finger' Abel!"

"Oh, Abel! Abel!"

"He's too strong; this guy is unbelievably strong!"

"Ah, so handsome! I want to have your babies!"

"He's not only handsome but also strong, and most importantly, being with a man of his stature... his woman must be very happy~"

Abel: "..."

Huh?

Meow meow meow?

Did a wheel just roll over my face at high speed?

Utterly speechless, Abel contemplates the ridiculous nickname 'Divine Finger' that someone has given him.

Speechless, Abel steps down from the arena and follows a staff member to another service desk.

The real challenge starts after reaching the 200th floor, everything before is merely an appetizer.

The rules change after the 200th floor.

The battle application system is adopted, allowing each fighter a 90-day preparation period, to choose any day within that timeframe to compete.

Each fight grants a fresh 90-day combat preparation period.

However, losing the right to compete after not participating within the allotted 90 days.

To pass this level, one must achieve ten victories, but disqualification occurs after four defeats before achieving those wins.

If one wins at this floor, they can challenge the 'Floor Master' and become the new master by defeating them.

After listening to the service desk lady's explanation, Abel nods and says, "Arrange it for me, the sooner the better."

"Are you sure? You want to apply for a battle now?"

"Correct, no matter who the opponent is. If there's anyone available, let's start now."

The lady sighs in resignation, as she must comply with the competitor's wishes.

Then, a figure in a cloak and a gas mask approaches swiftly, submitting an application, "I'd like to apply, too."

The service desk lady casts a sympathetic glance at Abel and proceeds with her task.

Because of the battle application system, people often lurk here, jumping at the opportunity to fight newcomers.

They aim to secure an easy victory by 'baptizing the newcomer'.

In other words, they bully the weak and fear the strong.

Abel catches their attention as well.

The cloaked man coldly threatens, "Newcomer, let me give you a piece of advice: better to concede on the spot in the arena, lest I can't guarantee you won't end up severely disabled."

Abel chuckles at this, "Do you have companions? Why not call them over? Are you trying to hog the feast all to yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, challenging one is a challenge, and three is just the same. You shouldn't be afraid of a 'newcomer,' right?"

"Hah?"

"If you're in such a hurry to meet your end, then we won't be courteous."

A man missing his left hand and another paralyzed from the waist down, sitting in a wheelchair, joined the scene.

"Eh? But this doesn't seem to follow the rules," the service desk lady hesitates.

"I just checked, and there doesn't seem to be a specific rule against it."

Abel, with a smile, says, "Plus, as long as I've not accumulated four defeats, in principle, I can keep applying to be matched with opponents, right?"

"Uh, there hasn't been a precedent for this; I'll need to check."

Abel needs to rack up ten victories quickly, so for him, these guys couldn't have shown up at a better time.

If it weren't for the fear that the remaining two might chicken out after the first match, he wouldn't want to make it difficult for the lady in front of him.