Loud cheers, air that was practically vibrating with excitement and nervousness at what was about to come.

Among these emotions, I strode to the ground.

The metal gate opened up and all the participants entered.

I could feel the sand on the ground jump with excitement. Seated in the stadium were thousands of spectators.

More participants were entering from the five other gates on the wall, bringing the total number to a little over 300.

As everyone entered the stage, the gates were tightly closed shut.

This further hammered the fact that now only 16 people will leave this ground alive.

-WELCOME TO THE 3RD GLADIATOR CHAMPIONSHIP. WE WISH YOU A BLOOD-FILLED FIGHT-

Dumumumu- Dumumumu-

The weird words of the commentator were followed by dramatic drumming, signaling the start of the first round.

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However, the participants kept their distance closely, eyeing their respective surroundings.

It was natural.

Moving first was a sign of confidence. A statement that you were confident of your strength.

The first round is always a shit show. There is no strategy, no teamwork, no nothing. It is only killing others until you are among the last 16 standing.

It was the perfect time to eliminate stronger threats by ganging up on them.

Anyone who will move first will become the trigger, starting the match, as well as the target, to be hunted down.

In this ground, where everyone was as still as a statue, someone finally moved.

It was me.

"Haaah….How long until you weaklings finally start? If you were so afraid, then why even participate?"

"B-boss…"

Miller couldn't continue his words when the suffocating pressure of dozens of gazes bore down on us.

Malicious or not, participants began surrounding us.

My words had made it clear. I was someone confident in my strength.

Seconds trickled, but no one came forward to attack. Their eyes peeled, making sure none of my actions bypassed their scrutiny.

I spread and arms and spoke loudly.

"If none is going to start, then I will."

Three small cylindrical objects appeared in my hands.

"Watch closely. This is how someone strong fights."

Secretly pressing the button on top of them, I threw them into the air.

The gazes of the crowd, which were trying to make sure that they register my every move, also followed the objects.

Without waiting for the outcome, I brought the grimoire out of my storage ring.

"Miller, close your ears."

"What, bo-"

-Booooom!

*

-Booooom!

His world was dyed white and he lost his hearing. For a moment, he thought he had come to a different place. For a moment, that is.

CHIIIING-

His hearing quickly returned, bringing along a painful ringing sound inside his head.

"..t.., ..re.. ..k..y"

"..a..o, a.. ..o...."

Slap-

"…., are you okay?"

It hurt. But the slap to the back of his head brought clarity to his mind.

He quickly regained his composure. This wasn't the time to be floundering around.

Unsheathing his katana, he warily looked around. Dozens of participants were in holding their heads and rolling in the sand. Probably he was also acting like that until the girl, his partner, slapped him back to his sense.

"Orraaa!"

Bang-!

Someone jumped at him from behind. But before the attacker could do anything, their head exploded.

"Thanks, Sie."

He looked at his partner, albeit his senior, despite being the same age. She was wearing grey robes and a black mask, similar to him.

Before she could reply, a loud shout rang throughout the stadium, followed by many others.

Participants started attacking each other without restraints.

The ground was painted red from blood, severed limbs were scattered everywhere, and flashy or simple attacks raged through the stadium.

All hell had broken loose.

But even in this hell, some places had more chaos than anywhere else.

In one corner of the stadium, three people in ragged clothing were defending and counterattacking every attack thrown at them.

Their attire along and the purple crest on their bodies said a lot about them. They were battle slaves.

Tournaments like these were perfect opportunities for slave traders to show off their 'goods'. And it seems the goods this time were exceptional.

Two battle slaves defended while the last one, a mana user, kept killing everyone with precise mana bullets.

The mana control of the battle slave left him baffled. He prided himself in his high-level mana control, but that slave was at the least on par with him.

"N-no, please ..NOOOO!"

In another corner, blood-curling screams resonated. A woman with a halberd was smashing heads like watermelons.

Her movements were like an untamed beast. Standing in her path only leads to death.

Swish-

A little away from him, a head flew in the air. The next few seconds, more heads flew.

He gritted his teeth. There was an assassin with an invisibility skill near him.

Fortunately, although he couldn't see the assassin, he could sense the general direction of the assassin. So, they were safe from the danger of sudden decapitation.

Gulp-

He gulped. What were these peoples? Weren't only Iota and lower ranks allowed to enter the competition?

How could they fight so… skillfully?

He felt ashamed. Although he had no talent, he had always believed that he trained harder than anyone else. If the stakes were equal, only a few could best him.

But he finally understood that he was only a frog in the well.

He skillfully danced on the battlefield, defending his partner and himself from the never-ending onslaught of attacks. All the while looking at the three places where the most brutal deaths were happening.

"Sixth Form…"

He started using his art. A copy of his own ran ahead and acted as bait.

The most dangerous place in this hell weren't the three places he was looking at. No, it was where he, himself, was standing.

He gritted his teeth and slashed. Arcs of blood drew in the air, and he could hear the repeated shots of a gun from behind.

Most participants were attacking them.

The reason? Actually, there were two.

First was their attire. Their suspicious clothing made it clear that they were hiding their identities. This only made everyone think that they belonged to some important background.

Leading to the conclusion, they must also be strong. So, everyone was trying to kill them, the strong contenders before the 2nd round.

Thinking about the second reason, he almost cursed out aloud. The other two people who had been wearing black robes and white masks were assholes!

The leader of that duo had come forward and provoked everyone. Then, when everyone was observing him, he threw a disguised flashbang in the air.

The bastard purposefully made everyone look at him to increase the effectiveness of the flashbang!

Then he vanished. He vanished into thin air after provoking everyone!

'Watch closely how someone strong fights', was it?

The bastard had the nerve to say this when he launched a sneak attack and then hid!

"We should slow our attacks and increase defense!"

His partner shouted so that he could hear her through this orchestra of death.

They were starting to get overwhelmed. Still, he didn't use his stigma. It was too eye-catchy, and he had to save it for-

Vupp-

-Swiiiiishh!

A person with long, unkempt hair appeared high in the air. He swung his hand and the whip in his hand crackled, dismembering everyone within the vicinity.

"Hufff…Hufff..Yato, are you okay?"

He nodded and looked at the person who landed on the ground.

Long unkempt hairs, an eyepatch, and a whip in his hand. This appearance only belonged to one person. The Vile Reaper.

This person was the reason that most of the participants this year withdrew from the tournament.

"Sie, stay back."

He walked toward the Vile reaper but secretly scanned his surroundings.

'Only 23 participants are alive. I'll need to stall him for at least a minute.'

Admittingly, although the Vile Reaper and he were both Iota-rank, he was no match for the Vile Reaper, someone who was at least Lvl21.

Golden lightning crackled around him, raising his stats by 100%.

And he dashed ahead.

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