Power of authority...

<+5 EXP for causing problems a lesser demon.>

The resounding slap echoed through the arena, causing everyone mid-meal to pause and turn their attention to the commotion. Drama always had a way of captivating eyes, and this unexpected altercation was no exception.

Potty, the demon with a grotesque frog-like appearance, was caught completely unaware by the force of the slap. The Magistri's palm, marked with deep claw indentations, left an unmistakable imprint on Potty's stunned face.

Furious, the Magistri berated Potty harshly, his voice dripping with contempt. "How could you, a pathetic F class, allow a lowly D class to slip through your watchful gaze? You stupid retard!" The words struck Potty like a physical blow, his face contorting with shock and disbelief. He followed the pointing finger of the Magistri, his eyes widening in astonishment. To his surprise, there stood Lenny, a frail figure with an unlikely presence amidst the fierce gladiators.

Potty's big frog-like eyes bulged even more, his mind racing to process the unexpected turn of events. He was rendered speechless, his tongue tied by a mix of confusion, surprise, and perhaps even a tinge of fear. After all, he had orchestrated Lenny's demise, pulling the strings to send the half-human into the treacherous Arena. Potty had anticipated Lenny's demise, assuming his fate was sealed. But demons, it seemed, were unpredictable creatures, driven by their own dark agendas.

An F class? The realization hit Potty like a thunderclap. Lenny had somehow defied the odds and survived, ascending to the ranks of the D class. The implications of this revelation washed over Potty, leaving him shaken and uncertain. What had transpired within the treacherous confines of the Arena that led to Lenny's unexpected advancement? Potty's mind whirled with unanswered questions.

However, in the world of demons, strength and authority reigned supreme. It was a reality where prejudice and discrimination simmered beneath the surface, lurking in the shadows of their twisted society. Potty, a pure demon by birth, couldn't deny the ingrained hierarchy that governed their existence. The fact that Magistri, once a mere human, now commanded authority over him only served to exacerbate the simmering resentment within Potty's being.

While Potty grappled with his conflicting emotions, Magistri's attention shifted back to Lenny. "This one has caught Lord Cuban's eyes," Magistri declared, his voice filled with a blend of respect and awe. The revelation sent shockwaves through the gladiators and spectators alike.

Lord Cuban, the undisputed king in this ruthless realm, held absolute power and authority. A mere nod of his head could bestow freedom or condemn one to a grisly demise. His favor was coveted, and his displeasure invoked dread in the hearts of even the mightiest demons.

Lenny's sudden rise to prominence instantly transformed him into a figure of envy and curiosity. The gladiators gazed at him with a mix of surprise and longing, their own aspirations overshadowed by Lenny's unexpected fortune.

Among them, D4022, still nursing the wounds of a lost eye and a severed finger, regarded Lenny with a complex mixture of admiration and envy. The gladiator's mind teemed with thoughts of what it would be like to bask in Lord Cuban's favor.

Magistri, well aware of the envy pulsating through the arena, surveyed the crowd, his eyes scanning the gladiators. In such circumstances, it was common for the chosen one to become the target of everyone's ambition. The allure of Lord Cuban's recognition was simply too enticing to ignore. Magistri, however, cared little for the ensuing dynamics. His primary concern was carrying out Lord Cuban's will, no matter the consequences.

Cuban had expressed his desire for Lenny's participation in the upcoming welcoming event for the governor. But there was a condition attached to this opportunity—an ultimatum that Lenny had to survive until the end of the week. Magistri, torn between his loyalty to Cuban and his awareness of the treacherous nature of the Arena, knew that Lenny's chances of survival were slim. However, Cuban's will superseded all other considerations.

"Let him train with the E class," Magistri instructed, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and determination. "If he manages to endure until the end of the week, then he shall face the trials of the D class." Potty, bowing submissively, acknowledged the command. "Yes, Lord Magistri!" he replied, his anger still smoldering beneath his obeisance.

As Magistri turned and walked away, the stifling atmosphere of his presence dissipated, leaving behind a palpable sense of tension and uncertainty. Potty straightened himself, a mix of frustration and anger coursing through his demon veins. As a pure demon, his birthright demanded strength and authority, attributes that he had honed over countless battles. Yet, here he stood, restrained by the orders of a former human.

His eyes narrowed, and Potty turned his gaze upon Lenny. Anger burned within him, a fiery volcano threatening to erupt. This human, who had defied him and should have been long dead, now possessed the audacity to earn the recognition of a deep-level demon. The prospect infuriated Potty to no end. Without thinking, his hand shot up, ready to deliver the same punishing slap he had received moments ago.

But then, something unexpected happened. Lenny, meeting Potty's enraged gaze, broke into a wide smile. The audacity of the human's reaction only fueled the demon's fury further. How dare he mock him? How dare he challenge the natural order of their world? The demon's hand trembled in anticipation, suspended in mid-air.

Lenny, undeterred by the impending blow, stepped forward, presenting his face to Potty. "Come now! You want to give me a smacking, right?" Lenny burst into laughter, a defiant glint in his eyes. "I dare you! I dare you, FROGGY!" The audaciousness of his words sent shockwaves through the spectators, their collective gasp echoing through the arena.

Demons were revered creatures, even the lowest-ranked ones. Their status commanded respect, and only those of the A and B classes, who had unlocked their demon ranks, dared to challenge them openly. Potty, with his demonic prowess, possessed a power that surpassed that of the mightiest human. In the demon hierarchy, he stood closer to the realm of gods than the mortals that scurried beneath his feet.

Lenny's bold challenge was akin to defying a god and expecting to escape unscathed. The observers were incredulous, unable to comprehend the audacity displayed by the human interloper. But deep down, they knew there was nothing Potty could do. The satisfaction of unleashing his wrath upon Lenny would pale in comparison to the severe consequences he would face for his disobedience.

Lenny, however, was no ordinary person. He had traversed a path marred by madness and darkness, and the revelation of this twisted world had ignited a spark within him. His mind, attuned to chaos, yearned to push the boundaries and test the limits of this new reality. In a way, he relished the opportunity to provoke the demons and challenge their perceived invincibility.

With a grin etched across his face, Lenny watched as Potty's hand quivered with frustration and unfulfilled vengeance. With a mixture of amusement and confidence, Lenny concluded, "Incredible!" The words hung in the air, a subtle mockery that stoked the fires of Potty's rage.

Unable to unleash his wrath directly, Potty resorted to asserting his dominance through physical restraint. He swiftly clasped a cold metal collar around Lenny's neck, securing it tightly, and fastened a chain to it. With a forceful tug, he began to lead Lenny away, his anger and resentment simmering just beneath the surface.

D800, a fellow gladiator who had been silently observing the unfolding events, chuckled softly to himself. "I like this kid," he muttered under his breath.