Unveiling the Fighter's Identity. (68)

Carefully adjusting the slipping glove on my hand, I peered through the opening portal, anticipation coursing through my veins. Time seemed to stretch as the spatial gap revealed two distinct silhouettes—one snow-white and the other pitch-black. In that moment, I felt the chilling breath of death graze the back of my neck.

The startled Caretaker stopped when he saw me, his pale blue eyes widened, he muttered a greeting, clearly surprised by my presence.

"Venerable One, I didn't know it was your turn to pick up the goods this time," he uttered, his voice trembling. Tilting his chin to the left, he caught sight of the lifeless carcass sprawled on the cold floor.

His words hung in the air, lingering for what felt like an eternity. The monster accompanying the Caretaker lifted the dead carcass by the neck, causing the shattered skull to crumble into fragments that fell to the damp ground with resounding thuds. I remained silent, with no intention of explaining myself, for I knew not the true nature of the body's former owner. In the heat of battle, all I had sensed was unadulterated bloodlust and a disdain for all living things.

Without uttering a word, I dropped a bag filled with First-class Spiritual Stones, the weight of it landing heavily on the ground. I locked eyes with the newcomers, my silence speaking volumes. After counting the contents of the bag, the Caretaker bowed respectfully and said, "Thank you. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused."

With no response, I shook my right hand, noticing the constant drip of purple liquid from the glove. Purple drops fell to the ground, staining the floor beneath me. With practiced precision, I pushed the cart onto a square podium, and with my steel claws, I pressed against the floating magic circle.

In a scarlet flash, I departed, leaving the guests without a farewell. This battle, with all its sacrifices, was worth it. Now, I rightfully assumed the identity of the Fighter.

Sealing the soul of the previous body's owner with the intertwining Dark Threads amidst a chaotic sea of memories, I felt the fragments of his mind crumbling with each passing moment. The pain was excruciating, making even the simplest movements a torment.

The surrounding environment underwent a drastic temperature shift, transforming into a realm of living lava. Bubbles of orange liquid burst, sending hot droplets raining down upon the thin stone bridge that stretched before me.

Damn.

Behind me lay a perilous cliff, and ahead, a narrow path stretched for several hundreds of meters.

[Participant 137, I sense the presence of another portal that leads to the residential area of the Arena.]

[Approximately where?]

[198 steps away from your current location. Please exercise caution, as the entire road is riddled with traps.]

Exhaling heavily, I began to roll the cart filled with human meat, counting the measured steps of my steel boots.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The fragile bridge strained under the weight of the cart, and twice I narrowly avoided spilling its macabre contents into the hungry maw of the active magma. Well, I thought nothing could surprise me anymore.

---

...196, 197, 198.

I came to a stop and surveyed my surroundings, searching for runes or magic circles amidst the stifling atmosphere. Sweat poured down my face like hail, but the confines of the armor prevented my body from cooling down entirely. I hoped to escape this place within the next few hours.

A faint breeze brushed against the brush attached to my helmet, causing it to flutter and obstruct half of my gaze. Looking up, my eyes caught sight of a white feather.

I still had to fully integrate into the new transformation.

[A new artifact, 'The Pen of the Second Transfiguration,' has been obtained. Do you wish to update your settings?

Yes. No.]

Mentally wiping the sweat from my forehead, I removed the stifling helmet and pressed "Yes."

[Updating Participant parameters 137:

Race: Dark Elf.

Rank: 7.

Power: 12,300 ~ 6,150.

Dexterity: 15,400 ~ 7,700.

Endurance: 10,900 ~ 5,450.

Magic resistance: 9,800 ~ 4,900.

Luck: 10 ~ 5.

Mana perception: 12,900 ~ 6,450.

Intelligence: 14,900 ~ 7,450.

Mental strength: 12,700 ~ 6,350.

Regeneration: 13,800 ~ 6,900.

New:

Alliance: The Infernal Legion.

General: Kai Theron.

Skills:

Earth Magic ~ Shadowed Familiars (Level 1), Spirit Weapons (Level 18 ~ 9), Poison Arrows (Level 16 ~ 8), Shadow Steps (Level 20 ~ 10), Shield Of Light (Level 0).

The update is complete.

Addition*

You cannot use the Transfiguration Elixir for 2 years.

Participant 137 is forbidden to use pure energy of Magic or Witchcraft; the system automatically changed the current skill to the last one.

Participant 137 joined the Alliance for the first time.

Participant 137 acquired half of all indicators of the characteristics of the previous owner of the personality.

Your name: Kai Theron.]

---

It took more than an hour, during which time I felt as if I had been drained dry by the scorching climate of this place. Shivering with my drenched body, I couldn't help but recall the fierce battle that had taken place.

To say that I walked on the edge of a knife would not be an exaggeration. Every step I took was accompanied by a palpable aura of murderous intent. Having been through countless battles, his body was tempered on the Battlefield, my opponent seemed to anticipate my every move. There were moments when I couldn't even defend myself in time. It was only by seizing his Original Essence* with Binding Souls that I managed to snatch a brief respite and transition into another body.

Now, an unbearable thirst gripped me, my throat dry and scratchy. Coughing into the warmth of the metal sleeves, I glanced at the completed statistics before me.

A hysterical grin tugged at my lips; I was left speechless. To emerge victorious and take control of such a formidable creature was a monumental achievement, but it came with its fair share of dangers.

Firstly, the weight of his presence within the Arena was immense. He was a damn general of The Infernal Legion, a figure to be reckoned with for sure.

Secondly, I had yet to absorb the defeated soul, which lingered in the depths of my mind. At any moment, it could prove to be my undoing.

Thirdly, I remained unfamiliar with his personality, character, and mannerisms, making it imperative for me to swiftly acclimate myself to his surroundings. Any slip-up could easily expose me, and the limitations on transformation for the next two years only added to the precariousness of my situation.

I stood poised on the sharpest edge, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing upon me. Donning my helmet, I gazed out over the lava surface and listened attentively to the system's instructions.

[Touch the air a meter above the path and turn the lever stone to the right and towards yourself. Wait until the portal is fully stabilized.]

I followed the instructions meticulously, occasionally cursing the arduousness of this wretched adventure. The edges of the stone were jagged, resembling fragments of a freshly destroyed mountain. I twisted the object to the right, exerting considerable force on its surprisingly robust structure. A small horizontal rift in space slowly expanded before me. Unable to contain my impatience, I muttered curses and, finding no comfortable position on the narrow path, mentally hastened the stabilization process.

Summer's scorching heat intensified within my armor, engulfing me like a squid submerged in boiling broth. Panting heavily, I leaned against the cart and surveyed the vessels before me. They seemed to be shielded by protective barriers, immune to the searing heat that filled the air.

[You can go through the portal.]

Like a dog eagerly responding to its owner's call, I pushed the cart forward and stepped into the unknown. The only thing on my mind was to escape this place without a moment's delay.

I was greeted by a group of creatures and beasts, perched on rocky steps, their gazes fixed upon me with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"You've arrived!" exclaimed the werewolf girl, her fluffy tail wagging with the colors of autumn leaves.

"Did you encounter any difficulties?" inquired the giant with an eagle's beak, casually crunching on plant seeds as he reclined on the uneven surface.

"Long," said the speaker, a figure lacking a distinct form, with only wisps of murky miasma intermittently emanating from the blurred silhouette before dissipating onto the smooth floor.

"Welcome back, Theron," greeted a tall man with two mouths on each cheek, his six eyes squinting in a warm smile.

So, they were indeed welcoming me. But how was I supposed to discern who was who?

Rooted to the spot, I watched them approach through the cracks at eye level, feeling like a fool.

"...Yes," I belatedly responded, rolling the meat-filled vessels toward them.

Yet, they paid me no heed, instead crowding around the cart from all sides.

"Wow, these are the first human children I've seen. Why is there no head?" the girl remarked, extending her sharp claws toward the severed forearm.

She was promptly pulled away by the man with two mouths.

"You can't, Mina. It's not a toy."

Ah, so her name is Mina.

"Greg, at least let her have a look at the factory goods. It's not every day you see this," the giant suggested, massaging his neck. His almost human hands ended in sharp, gleaming silver claws.

I didn't catch any other names, but within their casual banter and jeltsch I felt a hitherto unfamiliar camaraderie. They had recently joined the Infernal Legion, and their first task involved transporting meat.

The previous owner of this body had deep connections at the Third Level, and he was well-known not only among the fighters but also among the Caretakers.

The hooded man likely recognized him right away and refrained from taunting the deceased Lower Loss.

I followed the giant as he regaled us with tales of battles fought on the Battlefield, sharing insights into his opponent's tactics with colorful descriptions such as, "...And then he goes, 'fuck,' and I'm like, 'bang-bang,' and then he goes flying, and I manage to grab him at the last moment, squeezing him to death in an iron vise..."

Regardless, I realized that we had already reached the Fourth Level and were en route to a banquet celebrating the Alliance's semi-annual anniversary. Many of Shorty Joe's lackeys would be in attendance.

---

Addition:

* The forbidden technique "Binding Souls" results in the destruction of the caster's body.

Creatures, monsters, and animals do not perceive themselves as human nor believe in any gods or the concept of rebirth. For them, death signifies complete annihilation, followed by emptiness.

The Original Essence refers to the more tangible aspect of their souls, which can only be trapped with special training and skills, often referred to as the Enemy's Essence.