[1% LIFESTEAL] Chapter 248 - Scion of Cruelty (Patreon)

[Quick Note]

Sorry for the long wait, this was a chonker of a chapter, and I thought it would be ten times better to just read the whole thing in one go rather than split up. Enjoy!

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Leopold woke with a start, a sharp gasp sounding from his lips. “Fuck!” he swore, punching a hole in his mattress, eyes red with anger. “Not that dream again…” He hunched over, hands buried in his shimmering green hair, the fury boiling just beneath his skin, with no way to release it.

He was a man who wasn’t afraid of anything—shouldn’t be, at least. While awake, this held true without fail. He’d delved wild passages, taken on insanely dangerous dungeons all by himself, and several times, he had faced serious threat of death for the sake of power.

And yet—”If only I knew who he was…”

No matter how fearless he felt while awake, he had no such control over his mind while asleep. And there, the demons he’d buried deep within gleefully came out to play.

To date, he’d fought in almost five hundred arena matches. He had only lost thrice—each time, it had been at the hands of someone cheesing the lack of consequences to abuse some combination of deadly spirit abilities, elixirs, and tactics. Outside of that, he’d faced escalating monster waves for training more times than he’d cared to count, each attempt ending with having to inevitably experience death.

None of that had ever gotten to him.

But that bastard…

Leopold had paid serious money to try and figure out who Inquisitor was. PIs had scoured through every second of the man’s arena footage that had ever hit the shelves. And yet, nothing. Other than the fact he was ridiculously tough, clearly a hidden powerhouse, and unreasonably rich—given the fact he’d appeared in a full Steppon Milliure set once—nobody could figure anything out.

The man had simply never shown enough cards. It wasn’t even certain which affinities he had.

No matter how much Leopold hated to admit it, that goofball had gotten him good. He did not expect the man’s entire face to come off like that, and the fact that he had to have put the mask on before coming to the arena was undeniably creepy as all hell. This wasn’t just a passionate performer—this was a genuine lunatic. And he was out there, perfectly anonymous, roaming the same streets as anyone else.

Yet another psychopath from the arena, a ticking time bomb waiting to blow. 

To then disappear after making him embarrass himself with that feminine shriek was just the cherry on top. Ever since, he’d been so consumed with trying to figure out who this asshole was that he’d gotten lost in his search, falling deeper and deeper into a hole his subconscious mind continued to dig.

He knew it was long past the time to give up. But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t drop it.

Not once in his life had anyone humiliated him like that.

Days continued passing, and slowly, the search fell further and further to the back of his mind. There was only so much money and time he could waste before it became abundantly obvious that he wasn’t getting anywhere. Months had passed without a single hint, and eventually, he’d all but entirely given up.

Until one day.

He pulled up to the arena lobby the same as usual. He’d made it something of an early-morning ritual to do a few warm-up bouts before he headed off to a delve. While some claimed that the arena cultivated terrible habits, he was firmly in the camp who believed the benefits far outweighed the downsides. It was a way to get practically endless life-and-death experience without actually risking death for it. For every bad habit that crept into one’s mindset, ten valuable skills could be developed in turn.

Only a fool would pass up such a resource.

As usual, he made his rounds, greeting the other fighters he was best acquainted with. Not that he gave a single shit about the vast majority of these plebians, but nevertheless, in the words of his mother, reputation was either made by you or for you. And one made for you rarely suited your best interests.

After a couple of minutes, he stumbled upon Shane Lawman, one of the few people there he actually considered a peer. The man’s shiny red hair and deep golden eyes stood out in the crowd, even without his towering height.

Leopold walked up to him, shaking his hand and making some small talk. They briefly discussed arranging a match later that day. Usually, Leopold wasn’t a fan of taking risky matches, but there was no shame in losing against the young Lawman. Not that he believed himself to be any weaker, but it was close enough for the fight to go either way.

Ultimately, however, their schedules just didn’t align.

A shame, but not a coincidence.

Neither of them were cowards, but alas, they had both worked hard to cultivate their respective auras of invulnerability. Even if it landed them a main stage spot and a good bit of extra pocket money, neither would take the risk of such a public loss lightly. Still, they had to at least talk about it in plain view, if for no reason but that others could assume they weren’t intentionally avoiding each other.

For another half-hour, Leopold searched for good fights, but ultimately, it looked like it would be another day of either monster waves or anonymous performance matches. Well, until someone suddenly shouted from the other side of the lobby.

Quickly, a commotion broke out. 

A highly suspicious match had appeared in the public performance category, with some of the strangest terms Leopold had ever seen. It was a match with ten open slots, and almost no details sans a very brief description of the event:

A GROUP OF HEROES GATHERS TO SLAY A GREAT EVIL HIDDEN WITHIN AN ABANDONED FORTRESS.

That was it. There was no description of what or who this great evil was supposed to be, and practically no style guides. There wasn’t even a clearly defined end-point that would close the match. A brief description, ten slots, scheduled for twelve hours later.

Usually, any self-respecting gladiator wouldn’t look twice at a listing like that. 

There were so many details that were critical that had been—likely intentionally—omitted by the match host. Such as who would be followed by the POV, or whether it was a custom or a random map.

Even ignoring the lacklustre details and the woefully underwhelming setup, with ten free slots—eleven total with the host included—the profit from the sales would be split eleven ways. Well, it usually would. 

This was where things got incredibly suspect.

For starters, the terms specified that the host would surrender their share of the profit. If that wasn’t enough, anyone who joined a slot would be paid ten million dollars, on top of having the entry fee covered, with an option for bidding the payment down if someone wanted to compete for the slot. That was a ton of money to pay out.

However, neither of these details were of particular interest to Leopold. He only cared about one thing—

MATCH HOST: INQUISITOR

He didn’t hesitate. As soon as he saw the name, he picked up a slot.

Even if this was a scam by an impostor, ten million dollars for a quick match was no joke. But if it wasn’t… “I’ll find out who you are… just you wait.”

The ten slots filled up quite fast.

No matter how crappy the match ended up being, a participation payout and no entry fee practically guaranteed full slots. It wasn’t long until the bidding started, too, and slowly, the payout people were willing to take gradually dwindled. The slots dropped to five million in a blink, then three, then two. Then one. 

Leopold gritted his teeth.

There was a bunch of trashy bastards who’d sell themselves to a khork for a couple of bucks pushing the payout way down, and before long, it fell under a hundred grand.

And then, something unexpected happened.

SLOT 1: SHANE LAWMAN (BID: $3,000,000)

Leopold laughed. The host was no longer paying—he was getting paid so that people could participate. 

Just barely hiding his aggravation, he approached Shane, who smiled at him in turn. “Shane… What possessed you to bid that kind of sum? With a ten-way split, you know you won’t be making much money back.”

Shane simply shrugged. “I’ll admit, I’m incredibly curious about this Inquisitor guy. Are you not the same?” He smirked knowingly. “Just admit it. I know you’re probably pretty mad about what happened, but the guy’s built a fun little mystery. With you and I on the roster, this is definitely main stage material.”

“Right…” Leopold didn’t give a single crap about landing the main stage with this match. In fact, he was starting to feel like he was playing right into this bastard’s hands, and he hated it. But he didn’t have a choice. If he wanted a hint of who this prick was, this was the only option he had. He’d been searching for months to no avail—there was no way he’d back out now.

Walking away before he could say something unpleasant, Leopold took a seat in the corner of the lobby, put the tablet in his lap, and observed the price of the slots move. Bit by bit, the sellouts who had driven the payment to near-nothing were replaced by serious competitors, who were starting to bid against each other for a chance to make the roster.

Even with a ten-way split, a main-stage match could make some serious money, but that wasn’t why so many people were bidding. The more stars there were on the roster, the more interest the match would attract. Even if they earned squat for this specific match, the performers wouldn’t miss out on a chance to get some publicity.

The more famed performers joined, the more famed performers wanted to join. Just an hour into the bidding, the average cost of a slot surpassed five million. An hour later, it was confirmed on the main-stage schedule, which quickly made the price double. A total payout of a hundred million was a bit optimistic, even by main-stage standards, and nobody wanted to take a massive loss, so after that, the price slowed down. The auction would end an hour before the match started to give everyone the time to prepare. 

Eventually, the price of the average slot ended up reaching just a touch over thirteen million—and to ensure nobody would bid him out at the very last second, Leopold was among the biggest suckers present, parting with a painful fourteen million dollars. 

All for the right to be a puppet in whatever play this bastard was running. “Why am I doing this again, exactly?” It was too late to back out now. So, teeth gritted, he marched over to the nearest pod room and started getting ready.

During the hour of waiting, he wondered what exactly the match was going to look like. Again, the details were frustratingly scarce, so it was entirely unknown what they would even be fighting. “It couldn’t be him… right?” The thought made Leopold chuckle.

For a moment, he had the thought that Inquisitor had been hoping to land ten randoms who would happily jump at the opportunity to make some pocket money, and that the set of elites was entirely unexpected. If that was the case, this was going to be hilarious.

But somehow… he couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the case.

Before long, it came time to crawl into the disgusting pod. And then, a minute later, he was whisked away.

***

Leopold opened his eyes. They immediately widened at the sight before him.

An utterly overwhelming castle stood in the nook of a mountain, a short walk away from where they stood. It was an ancient-looking thing of dark stone and what looked like countless rooms. Up above it, the sky shone with a dim, sinister red light. Custom map, then… A very expensive one.

Several surprised yelps came to his side, and he turned, finding the others standing side-by-side. The “ten heroes” were lined up dramatically atop a small hill looking over the eerie fortress. Despite the scarce style guide, it was obvious that the host was aiming at a medieval magic fantasy sort of setting, and that was reflected in the way the performers were dressed.

It was all robes, leather, and shiny armor. There were markings on the equipment disguised to look as natural as possible—the logos of sponsor companies.

A woman gasped. “It’s so big…” she said, tightening the staff she was holding right between her breasts, which were all but falling out of her highly-revealing white robes. She looked around, wide-eyed. “Who could have built this?”

“I do not know.” A large armored man spoke beside her, shifting and making his oversized plating clatter. “Clearly, we are facing no ordinary threat.”

“Indeed!” A lean, lightly-dressed man clad in tight leather with far too much ab exposure, his long, blonde hair billowing down his shoulders, took a step forward, a single hand resting on the pommel of his massive sheathed sword. “We’ll have to put everything on the line.” His jaw tightened. “Just remember your training. What you fight for. We cannot give up now.”

Several others nodded and released varying noises of agreement. 

Leopold resisted the urge to aggressively roll his eyes. There was a reason he wasn’t a fan of the public matches. He hated these pricks and their stupid personas, stupid costumes, and the stupid way they talked. They reminded him of delusional eight-graders, but somehow even worse, since these were grown-ass men and women.

And yet, they somehow earned enough money to put lesser Lords to shame. What is this world coming to…?

Alas, he kept his mouth shut and simply nodded. While he didn’t enjoy public matches, he didn’t want to get blacklisted, so he tolerated their bullshit.

“We should get moving,” a gruff voice sounded. A wider than he was tall man stepped forward, his gigantic shield vibrating as he lightly tapped it against the rocky ground. “The sun is about to set, and we don’t want to be caught wandering outside in the dead of night. Light your torches.”

“Indeed, brothers and sisters!” a voice came from behind them. “We must hurry!”

In an instant, weapons were drawn and abilities ready as every single person present whirled to face the source of the voice. 

Hidden inside a particularly dark shadow beneath the thick canopy of a tree was the outline of an armor. With the sound of old metal scraping, the figure stepped forward, revealing a ridiculously muscular man wearing enough plate to put a small car together. 

He stepped into the clearing, then spread his arms wide open. “I greet you all, chosen heroes!”

“Who are you!?” the skimpy blond boy blabbered intelligently.

“I am he who brings order!” Inquisitor declared. “And for you, my brothers and sisters, who carry the torch of justice, I have nothing but utmost admiration. Please”—he fell to his knees, then prostrated himself—”allow me to follow you as you deliver the final blow to that wretched thing!”

A silence spread through the clearing.

It was obvious from a million miles away that he was up to some bullshit. Nobody there was an idiot—this was a setup for whatever the actual setting of the match was. And it was all-but-guaranteed that he wasn’t going to be on their side.

Still, what were they supposed to do?

He was prostrated before them, utterly helpless. They could kill him in the blink of an eye, sure, but what then? If he really was the main antagonist of the match, ending it right there would just ruin the performance, and utterly shaft everyone involved.

No matter how hard Leopold wanted to plunge his crystal sword right between the creepy bastard’s eyes, that would accomplish nothing. It wouldn’t help reveal who he was, and it wouldn’t make for a particularly good performance. And it would also certainly get him blacklisted.

The exact same thought process went through everyone’s mind.

They had no choice but to fall for the most obvious ploy of all time.

Slowly, the weapons were put down.

The heavily armored shield-wearer laughed heartily. “You should have said so from the start, good man.” He stomped forward, putting a heavy hand on Inquisitor’s shoulder. “We are happy to have another pair of capable hands with us. Welcome to the team.”

“I thank you deeply, deliverer of justice.” Inquisitor said as he rose. 

The man wasn’t that tall, only about six feet, but he carried a truly unbelievable amount of muscle. The shield-bearer looked positively small next to him. How the man had managed to build that much mass in such a short time, Leopold had no clue, but there were definitely drugs involved. And some seriously heavy stuff, at that.

Inquisitor marched up to them. Then, just as he was about to step into line, he turned towards Leopold. 

No matter how much he hated to admit it, the gesture sent shivers down his spine.

The glance lasted for all of two seconds, and then, the man went right back to pretending like Leopold wasn’t even there.

They started their walk, with the public performers doing their witty dialogue thing that made Leopold cringe. Eventually, the elephant in the room came up.

A tan woman with a massive bow stepped forward, speaking in a deep, strong voice. “You, newcomer,” she called. “What do we call you?”

“I have no name.” He looked up towards the sky. “But some call me Inquisitor.”

A short man whose gimmick appeared to be some kind of dashing thief archetype chuckled. “Well, Quizzy… Can I call you Quizzy?” Rather than wait for an answer, he knocked on the man’s armor. “You’re a big fella, eh? Carrying the weight of all that order has to be one hell of a workout.”

“I have toiled tirelessly at the training grounds, sweating and bleeding beside my brothers and sisters to ensure that no evildoer sleeps peacefully at night.” He glanced at Leopold again, and Leopold couldn’t help but grit his teeth.

“I see…” The thief laughed. “Well, I’m glad you’re on our side, then!”

Har har har, nice fucking foreshadowing, bro! Leopold mocked in his mind as his patience slowly frayed. I despise these people.

Their merry little party made their way over to the ominous castle. Even those with acting skills on the worse side had little trouble looking profoundly uncomfortable. 

Even ignoring the glaringly obvious fact that Inquisitor was going to try to kill them, the castle was a work of art with how perfectly creepy it was. The long, winding corridors, echoing footsteps, chittering of bugs and rats, the dripping of water, flickering torches just barely lighting the path enough to see, making shadows dance in sinister patterns—this map had to have cost a fortune to commission.

Leopold glanced at Inquisitor again. He couldn’t help but wonder—what was this guy’s deal, anyway? Was he really just a crazy bastard, or was he actually trying to do something with this character? This whole persona felt too thoroughly thought-out to be the work of some impulsive maniac.

He forced himself to tear his eyes off the man. The man’s presence was too conspicuous, which was suspicious in its own right. With how much attention everyone was paying Inquisitor, Leopold had no doubt that he was trying to distract them from something else entirely.

Their uncomfortable walk continued for a while, and before long, they found themselves at a junction.

You’ve gotta be shitting me.

The hallway they’d been walking down suddenly split into five different routes.

Everyone halted and then glanced at Inquisitor.

Splitting up was obviously a stupid idea.

And yet—”A junction! We should split up, guys!” Blondie whispered.

“That is dangerous!” someone whispered back.

“But the paths are too narrow for everyone to go together, and we don’t have the supplies to loiter for too long.”

“Oh yeah, we’re gonna need a faster way to check which path is the right one.”

“Indeed!” Inquisitor shouted at the top of his voice, making everyone else flinch. “I shall go this way!” He pointed his rusty old heavy sword down the rightmost path. 

“Hold on, now,” Shane surprisingly called. “We need a proper plan. Recklessly splitting up will only endanger us. We should all decide who goes where as a group.”

Glances flew left and right, and Leopold resisted the urge to snicker. Again, it was clear that Inquisitor had prepared things ahead of time, so letting him go where he wanted was both stupid but also kind of difficult to avoid.

Performance matches were a performance first, and a fight second. If being stupid served the setting, being stupid was the only right choice. Again, losing a performance match didn’t mean anything—well, other than the whole experience of death thing—while putting on a good show, even if it meant taking a loss, could earn a performer a mountain of cash.

But while this was the case, not everyone agreed on what made for a good show. The bulk of the performers there were of the act first, victory second kind. But Shane and Leopold were different. Their victory was their act. While they wouldn’t willingly destroy the show just to win faster, they would not make it easy for this bastard to toy with them.

If he wanted things to go his way, he would have to work for it.

“Indeed,” Leopold added, taking a step forward. “Since there are eleven of us, one group will have to take three people with them. If you come across an enemy, do not engage if at all possible. We will walk for a fifth an hour’s worth of time, and then, meet back here and decide which path is the most promising. I suggest we draw lots for the main group, while… Inquisitor can accompany whoever goes down the centermost route. How does that sound?”

The group was silent for a long moment, idle murmurs echoing through the small junction. 

“That works for me,” Shane added, then turned to Inquisitor. “While I would usually ask for everyone’s thoughts, Inquisitor, I believe it would be for the best if you simply listened to us. Your help is greatly appreciated, but we do not know you, so we do not know for sure of how much help you will be should there be a fight. And for that reason, I also volunteer to take the centermost route with you, since I am confident that I will be able to protect you in the event of danger.”

Despite the fact they were professionals, it was obvious that everyone beside the two of them was pissed at what they just did. Depending on what exactly Inquisitor was planning, they might have very well utterly screwed everything, but nevertheless, neither of them was going to apologize. 

Any good show needs a bit of conflict, no? He thought gleefully as he watched the masked prick mull over the suggestion. You want things to go your way? You’re gonna have to work for it.

Likely seeing no way out of it, Inquisitor slowly nodded. “I shall defer to you, chosen hero.”

“Good,” Shane said, smiling pleasantly. “As for the rest, we could draw lots, but it would be faster for everyone to simply pick their route.”

“I volunteer to go with you!” The white-robed… priestess? Mage? Leopold had no idea what her persona was supposed to be, but the woman stepped forth, standing beside Shane. “Should we run into trouble, I can provide healing and blessings.” Priestess it was. She gave Leopold a quick glance, betraying the fact that she had volunteered to make sure Leopold and Shane didn’t team up. 

Leopold resisted the urge to chuckle. “I will go down the rightmost path, then,” he said, meeting her gaze. If there really was something prepared down that route, well… It would be best for someone qualified to be there, no?

She gave him a tight smile, clearly unhappy that Shane and Leopold were putting so much pressure on Inquisitor.

The rest of the group picked their routes, with Leopold being joined by the tan archer woman. A few minutes later, they were all happily going down their routes.

Throughout the entire way, Leopold kept his eyes peeled, but—There’s nothing? 

He thought there might be a hidden switch, or a trap, or just anything, but he spotted absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. And he was using Seismic Pulse to check, too, so he knew for a fact that it wasn’t simply well-hidden.

He assumed there had to be something deeper down the route, but before long, they stepped out into another open junction. And then, one by one, the rest of the group left through the other exits. Well, everyone except Shane, that priestess girl, and Inquisitor.

“What’s going on!?” Blondie croned annoyingly, his voice grating Leopold’s ears.

“Perhaps they are simply lagging behind,” the shield-bearer said.

“Or they got into trouble,” the thief muttered darkly.

Their dialogue was interrupted by the sound of panting. Someone was running down the fifth path. 

“Someone is coming!”

They got their weapons ready, watching the silhouette run into view.

It was Inquisitor, limping rapidly and holding a stump that had once been his right arm. He was covered in blood from head to toe, with countless open gashes all across his armor. “Dear heavens!” he shouted. “Help me!”

Leopold froze. Did he kill Shane? It was a thought that sent shivers down his spine. 

Shane was a serious elite, and even if Inquisitor had prepared some bullshit, successfully killing the man and only losing an arm was beyond impressive. Leopold had known that whoever Inquisitor was, he had to be an actual elite, but to be able to beat Shane, he had to be among the foremost elites in the entire empire. Who the hell is this guy?

Nevertheless, he had paid a huge price. If his plan had been to slowly kill them off one by one, that ship had sailed. His injuries were too extreme.

As expected, the group of asswipes was all-too-happy to fall for the obvious ruse, playing up their distress. A man in thick gray robes stepped forth, delivering a Heal to stop the man’s bleeding. The Heal took surprisingly well, almost as if the man had close to no Heal resistance. Leopold noted that detail.

“What happened?”

“A thing…! A wicked, horrible thing! It moved through the shadows, hunting us like animals!” Inquisitor hacked blood. “I barely made it out alive, but the others… Oh… Heavens!”

Gasps and curses made their way through the group.

“We should avoid splitting up in the future,” someone surprisingly suggested.

“Indeed.”

Leopold didn’t expect them to make Inquisitor’s life more difficult given his injured state, but again, perhaps they were a bit shaken up, too. Horror scenarios weren’t fun, even as a performance.

“Brothers… Sisters…” Inquisitor muttered. “I don’t believe I will be of any use going forth.” He hacked dramatically again, more blood leaking under his helmet. “Allow me to walk ahead of the group. I refuse to be a burden. Should that thing appear again, I will act as bait!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“We can’t allow you to do that!”

“What kind of heroes would we be!”

“Silence! You do not know what you are dealing with!” Inquisitor insisted. “Please…! I refuse to be a liability!” 

The others shared nervous glances, Leopold included. Did the man even have a coherent plan anymore? Or was he just improvising and hoping that the others would give him a chance to make a move?

There was no way he’d planned to get this badly injured this early on.

Leopold mulled it over for a few seconds. 

The lack of Heal resistance meant that the man had received few to no holy-affinity Heals throughout his career. Leopold doubted the man had wanted to reveal that detail. It was very telling—most likely, he had had access to high-level life-affinity healing throughout his career, meaning he’d never needed to resort to Holy Heals. 

Either that, or a lot of time had passed since he’d received his last Heal.

It could mean a number of other things, but even just access to high-level life-affinity healing was already something that could help hone in on his true identity. If he let just a couple more such details slip, the odds of Leopold figuring out who he was would skyrocket.

“I think we should let him take the lead,” he said. “We cannot afford to bring him out to safety, and with the death of”—he briefly paused to try and remember what pseudonym Shane used, but failed to recall it—”one of our strongest fighters,” he said instead, “we are clearly facing a threat that can’t be taken lightly.”

“Are you seriously recommending we sacrifice one of our own!?” The gray-robed man said.

Leopold scowled, his frustration at having to deal with these losers boiling over. Wasn’t it in their best interest to play along with Inquisitor? Well, he supposed the act did come first, and ten supposed “heroes” agreeing to sack someone was just a bit too much.

Still, everyone there wanted the same thing. They hadn’t let realism hinder them until now, so what’s with the sudden change of heart?

If they want to make things more realistic, let’s do that, then. “And what else do you suggest, exactly? Sure, you know what? Pick him up and carry him!” He spat. With his patience gone, he found himself getting carried away. “Let’s be real here for a moment, this guy can’t be trusted.”

“How can you say that!” Blondie shouted.

“Oh shut the fuck up, will you? Come on, he joined up with us just outside the castle. We never even checked to see his face. We have zero clue who he is or where he’d come from! And now, he’d just returned from having gone off with two of our own as the only survivor! Do you not find that even slightly suspicious!?” He let the silence hang, and as he did, he found himself regretting running his mouth.

The hostile looks the others were giving him could be interpreted as part of the act, sure, but any performer knew what it looked like to be on the verge of getting blacklisted. “Look…” He looked away dramatically, trying to salvage the situation.

“I get it,” the archer lady said, stepping forward and putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “We just lost two good people, and we don’t know what we’re facing. I understand how you feel.” Pause. “But that is no excuse to act out like this… don’t you agree?” she asked pointedly.

He slowly nodded.

“Good. Save your grief for when we’re out of here. Distrust between us doesn’t help.” She pointed at the wounded man. “Do you not see his injuries? Even if you don’t believe him, let alone harm us, it will be a miracle if he can survive until the end of the day. So get your act together!”

Leopold slowly nodded, not failing to pick up on the hidden meaning of that last part.

The shield bearer stepped forward, offering a hand to Inquisitor. “Can you get up?”

Inquisitor offered his remaining arm and slowly rose to his feet. “I can walk on my own.”

“Very well. Make sure you stay in the middle where we can keep you safe.”

“I thank you, heroes, for your kindness.” The man’s voice grew raspy. “And I am sorry for being so worthless…”

They got into formation and then proceeded to go down the hall.

“No more splitting up,” the thief said. “Whatever this thing is, it is clearly avoiding facing our entire group.”

The others all nodded in agreement.

Leopold found himself frustrated. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that the other performers knew what they were doing. A balance had to be struck in how they acted. 

Inquisitor had fucked up—well, Shane did make his life a bit of a nightmare, to be fair, but nevertheless—and now, the group was making it abundantly clear that they wouldn’t let him keep pulling the strings. If he wanted the performance to stay interesting, he would have to change course.

Their group continued down the hall for a few long minutes, making their way up several flights of stairs. 

And then, finally, Inquisitor made his move. He froze. The others tensed, likely expecting him to attack, but rather than pull his weapon up, he turned around, clearly panicked. “What was that…?”

“What was what?” the thief asked.

“No… No, no, no…” he muttered, grabbing his helmet. “No, no, no, no, no, no…”

“Are you okay?” the tall, armored guy asked, but.

“Stay away from me!” he shouted, pushing the man back with enough force to send him tumbling into the wall.

The others took their weapons out, and Leopold kept his eyes peeled wide open. Was Inquisitor about to make his move? If so, this was the perfect time to get a closer look at his abilities.

But rather than fight, the man just continued shouting. He reached for parts of his armor, pulling them off with superhuman strength as he shrieked something ungodly, as if he were being slaughtered. “Get out, get out!” he shouted, punching the side of his helmet with enough force to send splashes of blood seeping through the cracks. “Get out!” 

“Pull yourself together!” Blondie shouted.

Rather than respond, Inquisitor released another ungodly shriek, and then, with a shocking burst of speed, ran past them and down the hallway. It was a clever move, if a bit cheap. This was where he would get “lost” and then, the act would be back on—

Inquisitor barely made it twenty feet away from the group before suddenly, his foot landed on the wrong stone. The floor opened up beneath him, and just as he vanished out of sight, a mechanical noise sounded, the sickening crunch and clatter of metal being crushed echoing through the hall a moment later.

They remained stunned for a long moment, the surprise at what just happened filling the room. And then, they ran forward.

Leaning over the open floor, they beheld Inquisitor. A piston with nasty, jagged spikes at the end had slammed him against the wall, likely as soon as he fell inside. His body was a wreck, blood flowing out of it like through an open faucet. “I… Help… Hel…” The trapdoor that had dropped him suddenly slammed closed, blocking their sight of him.

Huh? Leopold muttered in disbelief. Is this how he decided to end the performance? What the actual fuck?

But the performance didn’t end. 

“What are you waiting for!?” someone shouted. “Get him out!” 

They went all around, trying to break through the trapdoor, but it was ridiculously tough. After nearly half a minute, they finally pried the mechanism open, only to find that the piston trap had retreated—and that Inquisitor was gone. 

“Over there!” Blondie shouted, pointing at the trail of blood leading to the side of the trap hole, where it looked like Inquisitor’s body had been dragged into a hole in the wall.

Leopold was stunned, and he wasn’t the only one. 

“What is happening…?” Someone muttered, and their confused tone made it clear that the question wasn’t part of the act. 

Leopold raised his finger. A blade of pure diamond appeared from the inside of his storage ring with a pop. He used Telekinetic Strike to slice the piston up to make sure it wouldn’t snap at them again, and then jumped down into the trap. His feet landed on the slick floor, Tethered Footing the only thing keeping him from slipping, and after taking a few steps away to be safe, he bent over, peeking into the hole Inquisitor had been dragged down. “There is another room!” he realized. 

The trail of blood went through the wall and into a room that looked like it wasn’t meant to be one. It was a room between rooms, a hollow space abandoned by time as the castle grew around it. Either that, or it was meant to be a way to approach the trap mechanism for the sake of maintenance. Or, you know, neither, and it was just a creepy throwaway prop room Inquisitor had commissioned to do…

What, exactly? Drag himself away? Looking at the blood trails, it really did look like something had dragged him through the hole. With those injuries he’d suffered, it was hard to imagine how he’d pulled that off. Seriously, what the hell…?

The others jumped down as well, using their torches to see better down the dark hole. With some extra light, the path the body had been dragged down became clear as day. The room had a small turn at the end, going right.

Wordlessly, the others agreed that following the trail was the only choice. One by one, they crawled through the opening in the wall and entered the other room, wary of traps. 

Leopold used Seismic Pulse a few more times, just to be safe. There was, indeed, nothing out of the ordinary hiding out of sight.

Slowly, they moved as a group towards the bend. The room continued past the bend for another twenty meters, before finally ending with another hole in the wall—this one much smaller than the last one, and judging by the splatters of blood and chunks of armor laying around, Inquisitor’s bulky frame hadn’t fit through nearly as easily.

Leopold cast another Seismic Pulse, and this time, he scowled. He could see the vague outline of the structure past the wall, and… “It’s small,” he muttered. “The hole leads into a tunnel just barely large enough for a body that size to fit through.”

The others were starting to look seriously uncomfortable. The setting had taken a pretty damn surprising turn, and even Leopold couldn’t deny his elevated heart rate.

As they made their way closer, suddenly, a faint red light lit up from the hole.

Several people gasped as they came to a stop.

A few seconds later, they heard cackling. It was an eerie, high-pitched laughter, coming from several voices.

“What is that…!?” someone muttered, clearly panicking.

The group shot each other glances. Obviously, backing off was the best thing to do. But the pressure was on. This was suddenly a pretty interesting performance indeed, and anyone who acted in a way that would ruin it would take a serious hit to their popularity.

As the seconds passed, one by one, the gazes landed on the thief, who was starting to look pretty pale. He understood what needed to be done. “I’ll take a look.” Breathing in deep, he suddenly vanished as his Invisibility kicked in. It was a pretty impressive ability at that, only leaving a slight distortion in the air, one that would be quite difficult to spot in the dark.

The noise of his footsteps also vanished, indicating that Soundless Presence had been added on top. It was perhaps slightly overboard, as there was no way anyone would be able to notice—

Leopold’s thoughts were cut off as a loud tearing sound suddenly echoed from the direction of the hole. A moment later, a shimmer dissipated around it, revealing the headless body of the thief, which fell over to the ground just below the opening with a fountain of blood gushing through the torn neck.

“Holy shit!” someone shouted. Someone being Leopold, in this case, even if he’d pretend it wasn’t him if anyone asked. Thankfully, the screams and yelps of everyone else made it hard to notice.

That sinister cackling sounded again, this time much closer, and then, with the sound of metal rustling, it got further and further away.

“What the actual hell is happening…?” Leopold wondered aloud. Was that Inquisitor? It wasn’t impossible if he had the right kinds of spirit abilities, but it was unlikely. If it wasn’t him, then what? A custom monster? It seemed too smart for that. A summon? Maybe, but Leopold was pretty sure he’d seen the shadow of an arm move just before the thief’s head came off.

Meaning, someone—or something had torn it off. Physically.

That kind of strength on a summon was highly unlikely.

Judging by the looks of the others around him, a conclusion was wordlessly making rounds through everyone’s minds—it was a hidden, 12th participant.

The Starhold Arena wasn’t infallible—there were ways to sneak people into a match, but these methods were highly, highly illegal. Not slap-on-the-wrist illegal, but beheading illegal. 

Now, on top of the increasingly horrific scenario they were playing part in, everyone there was fearing the possibility that they would be investigated to ensure that none of them had abetted the crime. 

“We have to keep moving,” the archer woman said, likely in an attempt to get the scenario over with.

It was possible that there was nothing illegal going on, but the clues were starting to stack up. For starters, Inquisitor defeating Shane had been suspicious to begin with. If he’d been helped by a three-star he had sneaked into the match, it suddenly made a lot more sense.

Why on Faralethal he’d be doing something so stupid, Leopold didn’t know, but he didn’t like it in the slightest.

Cautiously, they made their way out of the small room, crawling back to the hallway. With little choice in where to go, they continued forward, the shadows of the dim torches looking far more sinister this time around.

Not long into their walk, that same cackling returned. “Where is that coming from…?” he muttered. It was probably just a recording playing from a speaker, but something about those voices sounded… surreal. A few moments later, the cackling ceased, and they continued moving forward. 

They met sharp bends, winding staircases, entrances to long-abandoned rooms, with all the would-be junctions having all but one path collapsed, leaving them with a single way forward.

The silence was broken yet again, this time, by an utterly inhuman screech echoing from further down. Their group paused, shot each other nervous glances, part for the act, part just because… yikes.

Finally, they reached a straight hallway that gave a definite sense of finality. Dim torches lined the walls, and the hallway opened up into a large chamber at the end.

Deep breaths sounded all around as the group worked on calming their nerves and getting ready for whatever was about to come next. And then, just as they started making their way forward, they heard… music?

It was too quiet to discern at first, but as they continued their approach, it slowly became clearer. Someone was playing a slightly out-of-tune piano, and well. Extremely well. It was the kind of playing Leopold usually only heard at high-profile events. The song itself was mournful and tragic. It sounded desperate. The closer they approached, the angrier the piece became, a deep, spiteful wrath tinging every sharp note.

They stepped into the open chamber, and the source of the music came into sight. Most of the chamber was covered in darkness, with draping, dry vines hanging off the ceiling, further obscuring the corners of the room. But on the exact opposite end, right atop a small platform, was a piano, and behind it, an extremely muscular figure hunched over it, dimly lit by a sputtering torch barely hanging on the wall.

Layers upon layers of cloth draped over the figure, leaving all but an all-too-familiar mask uncovered. 

Leopold didn’t know what to think at that moment. His mind simply broke at the sight of the figure. There was no hidden 12th. There was no custom monster. A Seismic Pulse confirmed there were no traps.

Before he could get his thoughts in order, the music reached a crescendo before suddenly cutting off, the man’s head snapping in their direction as the dim torch behind his back went out. The scurrying clatter of metal sounded right after, before suddenly going dim.

Nobody made a single sound, but still, torches went up as they desperately searched through the surrounding darkness.

Leopold’s heart was well and truly hammering in his chest. 

Then, suddenly—

A rapid pitter-patter of footsteps sounded through the chamber, quickly growing closer. Leopold sent a Telekinetic Strike in its direction, and several other attacks quickly followed, but the clothed figure of Inquisitor effortlessly dodged all of them, then swooped through their group like an eagle. 

The sound of someone screaming swiftly grew distant as the group turned in the other direction, barely spotting the sight of one of the performers shouting bloody murder as he got dragged into a hole in the wall. His screams grew louder, and then stopped.

“Oh fuck this shit!” the large armored man shouted as he suddenly turned his sword on himself, cutting his own head off to flee the match.

Several others looked on the verge of doing the same thing, but the consequences to their careers couldn’t be taken lightly.

They were down to five people. Leopold, the archer chick, the short shield-bearer, Blondie, and the monk guy in brown robes.

Leopold gritted his teeth. They were in absolute disarray, and at this rate, they would lose. Inquisitor was ten times more powerful than Leopold’s wildest estimates, leaving only one possibility—they were dealing with a severed powerhouse, a former Lord at the very least. 

This was the kind of power that could only be attained by someone who had gathered countless resources and years of experience, then reverted back to the first star, restarting their growth with every advantage imaginable.

It explained his physique, his lack of Heal Resistance, his insane fighting skills, and possibly, made for a solid motive to hype himself up through a performance match like this.

At this rate, even if Leopold did find out who this bastard was, he wasn’t sure there was anything he could actually do about him. Gritting his teeth, his spite boiling over, he shouted, “Get your shit together!” at his teammates, releasing another three blades of diamond into the air. “Monk, buffs! Archer, bow ready! Shield up! Blondie, stop shaking already!” At the very least, he would do everything he could to ruin the man’s performance. 

His team finally remembered they could actually fight back.

The brown-robed monk guy put his hands together in prayer and then chanted something. His body lit up with a white light. Some kind of buff infused Leopold. He didn’t know exactly what it did, but he guessed it was some kind of spirit ability that traded the guy’s life. Leopold didn’t feel stronger, and his abilities didn’t grow in power, meaning it was most likely defensive in nature.

An entire lightshow lit the room up as the others all triggered their spirit abilities. Blondie was enveloped in some kind of golden light, and a crackling red power wound around his sword. And then, his eyes lit up with shimmering colors. Three spirit abilities with heavy costs.

The archer girl triggered a similar combo, but only one ability had a visible effect—her hair turned shimmering white and grew out behind her, flowing through the air in mesmerizing patterns. 

The shield-bearer grew twice in size, a vague outline of some kind of knight shimmered into existence behind his back, and a red crown appeared on his head.

And finally, last but not least, Leopold triggered his one and only spirit ability. He used it extremely rarely, since he felt it was a cheap thing to abuse in performance matches, given the lack of consequences. “Golden Nova.”

He felt his star progress reverting by nearly sixty percent. And, in turn, the power of his abilities would be temporarily doubled. It was a straightforward exchange, and one that he had actually used several times in real battles. The loss of progress was annoying, but the feats he’d collected by using it were no joke.

Leopold barked out a frustrated scoff. At this point, even if Inquisitor lost the fight, he’d already won the war. By forcing all of them to take things this far, he had showcased more than enough power to make it abundantly clear he wasn’t to be messed with. 

At this point, he could just hide and wait their abilities out to win anyway, if he didn’t mind tanking the embarrassment, but Leopold doubted he’d be willing to do that. His next play was thus rather obvious—he would keep trying to pick them off one by one, slowly whittling them down until—

The thump of metal sounded from behind Leopold’s back, sending a chill down his spine. He whirled, spotting Inquisitor who had dropped from the ceiling and landed right in the middle of them. They were packed nearly back to back, so he was practically stuck between them. The lower part of his mask was missing, showing bloody, shattered teeth. “Surprise!” he shrieked in an utterly inhuman voice as everyone present attacked him as one.

A flurry of attacks met the man’s body. He only dodged one attack—the blade Leopold had aimed to cut his head off, and simply tanked everything else. His left arm was sliced clean off, he suffered a number of slashes across his torso, Blondie’s sword went right through his heart, and an arrow shot straight through his stomach, punching out the other side with a shower of blood.

The shield-bearer was the slowest, preparing a devastating shield charge.

Two stars lit up in Inquisitor’s aura, and he met the charge with a punch.

Leopold came to a couple seconds later, splayed out on the ground several meters away, a terrible ringing in his ears. “What just…?” The last thing he recalled was a flash of light as Inquisitor’s fist met the shield. He spotted movement on the other side of the room. His eyes went wide as he watched what was left of the shield-bearer slowly peel off the wall, piece by piece, and fall to the ground. With a single punch…?

A deep terror spread through Leopold as he realized what kind of monster they were facing. This guy isn’t human…

His hearing slowly returned, and he scrambled to his feet, still disoriented from the shockwave. 

He spotted Inquisitor dragging the screaming archer girl down another hole in the wall, with Blondie chasing after them, shouting and swinging his sword around impotently. The monk was trying to get to his feet as well, but it looked like the combination of ruptured ear drums and whatever cost he’d paid for the spirit ability was making it impossible for him to maintain any semblance of balance, causing him to keep falling over.

The blond swordsman was panting heavily as he slowly backed away from where the archer had been dragged off, her screams still sounding through the chambers. “You despicable bastard!” he shouted. “You sick fuck! What the hell is wrong with you!?” It was clear his act had entirely fallen apart, and yet, it was better than it had ever been. “All this power, and you use it to—” A blur dashed across the room. 

Blondie vanished, and his sword fell to the ground, the red light sputtering, leaving Leopold in near complete darkness. The shockwave had put all the torches out. There were no screams this time, just absolute silence, only interrupted by the fumbling of the monk. The sound of bones breaking echoed through the chamber a moment later, and that went silent too.

Leopold raised his blades, making them hover before him. His breathing was a mess. He was shaking. Somewhere deep down, he still remembered this was just an arena match, and that he wouldn’t actually die, but the fear of death he felt was very much real.

He kept his eyes peeled, watching for any sign of movement, eyes open to the slightest noise. He heard the occasional rustling and clatter of armor, but the echo of the chamber made it all but impossible to figure out where it was coming from.

Then, he heard laughter. This time, it wasn’t high-pitched cackling from some mysterious source, it was the voice of Inquisitor, twisted into this raspy, screechy thing as if modulated somehow. It reminded him a bit of this performer who used Hydraulic Flex to manipulate his voice, but with a lot less finesse. It did the job regardless, with the howling laugh sending shivers up and down Leopold’s spine.

“You think this is funny, huh?” Leopold laughed in turn. “Sure, sure, laugh away, you freak! Ha-ha, you sure showed everyone how strong and scary you are!” He shouted. “You’re so fucking cool and badass!” he mocked. “And you’re totally not a pathetic loser who abandoned his duties to go play with children instead!”

But the laughter did not stop.

“Do you hear me!? Stop hiding and show yourself so I can cut your fuckin’ head off!” He made the blades spread out. “And thank you for this. I’ll use this as practice before shutting you up for good once we’re out of here.”

The laughter stopped. The quiet settled for a few long moments before finally being broken by a stray piano note. Leopold didn’t hesitate. The blades sliced the piano into pieces before flying back to him in the blink of an eye, but Inquisitor wasn’t there.

“Ah, yes…” Inquisitor’s twisted voice echoed through the chamber, its source indeterminable. Leopold’s eyes darted around the room, finding nothing. “You lasted longer than I thought, Leopold,” he said, his glee evident. “But in the end, an ego born of this system simply cannot help itself.”

Leopold heard a footstep behind him, and his blades went flying before he could even turn to see the source. And yet, when he turned around, Inquisitor was standing there, unharmed, having avoided the blades. Leopold pulled them back, eyes peeled as he waited for another chance.

Inquisitor raised his hand, and then, with a tug, pulled what was left of the mask off. The face beneath it was shredded beyond recognition. “You wanted to see it… The face of justice,” he whispered. “Here you go, Leopold. Are you watching?”

Leopold’s lips tugged down. “You’re sick in the head.”

“You, child, are the one who is sick—sick in the heart, twisted by the power thrust upon you, groomed to be a flawless scion of cruelty. But Justice is all-forgiving.” He spread his arms out. “I am all-forgiving. Scion of cruelty… prepare yourself, to be forgiven.”

The hairs along Leopold’s neck rose at the maniac’s words. The lunatic whispered something, and then simply stood there, arms spread out as if he was about to give Leopold a hug. His mouth suddenly spread open, and then, with a snap, his jaw unhinged like a snake’s.

Rationally, Leopold understood that that was just a trick. The man had used Hydraulic Flex to do that, all in an attempt to psyche him out. But damn did it work.

The seconds stretched on. For nearly ten seconds, he simply hung there. And then—

With a burst of unbelievable speed, Inquisitor lunged forward. But Leopold’s blades were just a touch faster. One caught the man’s legs, slicing them clean off. The second cut a large rent right into his torso, severing his spine. And the third landed on his neck, removing his head.

Leopold grinned, the satisfaction of success instantly flushing him. Not a billion years could he have guessed what would happen next.

Leopold’s father always said that the moment when an opponent thought they won was the point where they were the weakest. And now, he forgot that lesson at the worst time imaginable.

Inquisitor’s head continued flying forward, jaw unhinged. It landed right on Leopold’s forehead, teeth wrapped around the front of his head.

The last thing Leopold heard was the deafening crunch of his skull collapsing in on itself.