Chapter 98: Underground Arena (4)
The underground arena.
Kalbaron’s residents might think it’s a place overflowing with blood, fists, and romance, but that’s not true.
It’s a coldly calculated, rational operation.
‘Thirty percent of daily matches are rigged.’
The past month was worse, with entire days filled with fixed matches.
But someone put a stop to it: me, Harang.
The guy tagging along with the conman Ulrik shook up the arena with incredible skill, wrecking the organizers’ plans and causing significant losses.
Not intentionally, but the result was the same.
Kalbaron’s powerbrokers weren’t pleased with me.
‘If he was moderately strong, the five guilds would’ve salivated. But he’s too strong. For the conservative higher-ups… they’d prefer he puts on a great show and dies. Making money in the process is a bonus.’
So, who should the organizers pit against me to meet these goals?
‘Someone strong. And… unknown.’
That way, they could defeat me and reclaim the bets placed on me.
Luckily, the organizers had plenty of such people.
They kept hidden aces for such contingencies and could request the five guilds’ “shadows” for big-money matches.
But…
‘With all those spare fighters, they pick the drunkard Shakin?’
The aide couldn’t understand.
Who was Shakin?
Kalbaron’s biggest fool, known to all.
A gambling addict who always ended up broke, clueless about betting.
An alcoholic living off drinks bought with others’ winnings.
He wasn’t unskilled.
Surviving a decade of such a wretched life proved his ability.
Some bandits who underestimated him ended up crippled, crying.
They say you could fill sacks with the wrists Shakin cut off.
But…
‘Is he really championship-match material?’
The aide couldn’t help but doubt, so his gaze toward Badin, the arena’s owner, was tinged with distrust.
“…Shakin? Sorry, did I hear that right?”
That’s why.
Though he’d never questioned Badin before, this was too much.
This match had to succeed.
Failure could jeopardize their lives.
“Badin, sir. You know how much is at stake. Even those who’ve been patient won’t be this time. If Shakin loses…”
“…”
“Let me fight instead. My identity’s not well-known, so I can handle the task…”
“Enough.”
“…!”
Swish!
The aide quickly turned.
He had to.
A voice, neither his nor Badin’s, had spoken.
He glared at the source with a serious expression, muttering the name.
“Shakin…!”
“Listening to this is getting on my nerves. Sure, you can badmouth a king behind his back… but only if you don’t get caught, right? So what happens when you do?”
“…”
“You apologize. ‘Sorry, I won’t do it again.’ Though you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m used to this treatment. Call it thick skin? Ha! Shakin, you’ve grown! Before Kalbaron, I was soft, crying into my pillow every night. Now I can be this magnanimous…”
“Shut up. How’d you get in here?”
The aide asked, hand on his scabbard, eyes full of wariness.
He had reason to be.
Shakin had entered, closed the door, and watched them without being noticed.
Even skilled assassins would struggle with such stealth.
That alone showed their assessment of Shakin was wrong.
‘Maybe Badin chose Shakin knowing this…’
The aide finally understood.
But his expression remained grim.
Beyond logic, his emotions still viewed Shakin with unease.
Above all, his pride was hurt.
An Expert, upper—no, confidently top-tier.
A top predator in Kalbaron, he couldn’t back down meekly.
Without turning, he spoke to Badin.
“Badin, sir.”
Shing.
“Sorry, but I need to see this drunkard’s skills to be convinced. Forgive my rudeness.”
With that, the aide and guard fell silent.
He maximized his Aura, heightening his senses.
Pushing “Sensory Awakening” to its limit, everything about Shakin became clear.
Shakin’s tilted head, watching him with dissatisfaction.
The musty smell of his dusty clothes and worse liquor stench.
The ticking of a clock in the corner.
All sorts of data flooded his senses.
His eyes deepened.
A bit more time, and he’d find the perfect moment to strike Shakin.
Then, a new sound.
Step step.
Someone approaching.
Clearly Badin, the arena’s owner.
‘…Trying to stop me?’
His energy deflated.
He let out a hollow laugh.
But he couldn’t defy his superior.
Shing, click.
Sheathing his sword, he turned to face Badin and bowed, apologizing for overstepping.
“Sorry.”
Swish—!
Slash!
That was his final word.
He left this world, unaware of his own death.
Shockingly, the one who cut the aide’s throat was Badin.
“Sorry for showing you such shameful behavior.”
Looking at his subordinate’s corpse, Badin bowed to Shakin.
Astounding.
The arena’s owner was among Kalbaron’s most esteemed, second only to the five guild leaders.
Typically, he held status equal to their deputy leaders.
Yet he not only bowed but beheaded a valued subordinate as an apology?
It should’ve been impossible.
But it was inevitable.
Knowing Shakin’s true identity as the Red Cloud Guild Leader’s younger brother, even greater deference wouldn’t be surprising.
“The money on this match is beyond imagination?”
Gulp gulp, Shakin asked, chugging whiskey from the bottle.
Badin bowed and replied.
“Yes. The biggest ever… An enormous sum is bet on Harang.”
“So my brother sent me. But is that Harang guy that strong?”
“I can’t guarantee victory.”
“Oh? Really? Didn’t you reach Graduate last year or so? And you’re still unsure? So he’s a Graduate too… I won’t lose, right?”
“No chance of that.”
Badin bowed again.
Yes, no matter how strong Harang was, he couldn’t beat Shakin.
Though living as a wastrel due to lack of ambition, his true skill was never below the five guild leaders.
“Then, I’m counting on you. After this, we won’t bother you again.”
“Don’t believe it, don’t believe it. Maybe I’ll leave Kalbaron? It’s been 15 years; my wanted posters are probably gone.”
“The Red Cloud Guild Leader would be saddened.”
“Pfft. We’re not that close.”
With that, Shakin left the room.
Only Badin, with a triumphant smile, and the aide’s corpse remained.
***
“Waaaaah!”
“Kill him! Kill him!”
“This is the finals opponent? Shakin’s allowed in a place like this?”
“Hahaha, this might be one hell of a slaughter show!”
“Hey, Shakin! Run well! Though you’ll just die in the end!”
“Nah, that’s not true. Harang’s got a soft side, you know? He spares those who surrender. Could just crush their skulls, but…”
“Ugh, that’s boring… What if Shakin surrenders right away?”
“Won’t happen. He lost big at gambling a week ago. To pay that debt, he has to fight to the end. No fight money if he surrenders.”
“Really? Great! I’m betting 15 gold on Shakin’s death!”
‘Is my image this bad?’
Bathing in boos, Shakin wore a sullen expression.
He couldn’t help it.
He thought of Kalbaron’s residents as friends, but they acted like they held grudges against him, making him feel betrayed.
‘Jerks. After all I’ve done for them.’
He often let deserving punks off with a few punches and bought drinks for those he met in good moods.
But what was this!
Even those he’d treated were betting on and cheering for me?
‘I’m done. I’m leaving for real.’
He’d already been planning to go.
The common folk might not know, but Kalbaron’s higher-ups were in chaos and tension.
Rather than stay and bleed, it seemed better to face some pursuit and return to the outside world.
‘If only Boss would wash his hands and come with me… but that’s unlikely. He’s built too much here.’
Thinking of the Red Cloud Guild Leader, Shakin’s face showed worry.
Seeing this, the crowd shouted taunts like “Don’t chicken out, idiot!” or “Fight hard, give us a show!”
‘These bastards… Fine, this match will be boring.’
Shakin grinned mischievously.
He’d planned a thrilling bloodbath ending in victory, but not anymore.
He’d end it fast, throw the arena into chaos, and slip away.
That was the plan.
As he thought this, watching me, the challenger, enter, his expression froze.
“…”
Shakin’s face stiffened.
He didn’t feel the crowd’s cheers or the arena’s heat.
The moment he faced my indifferent gaze up close, chills ran through him.
Feeling an intense shiver, he spoke to the referee.
“I forfeit.”
“…What?”
“I forfeit.”