The arena trembled with the first spark in his eyes—
silver and black clashed like a cold vortex, the very air grew heavier, as if death itself descended like a fog seeping into the lungs of all who dared to watch.
Zaro struck first, flinging his crimson threads to bind him, but Kim simply raised his gaze.
One second was enough: the threads withered, turning to pale dust before touching his skin.
Zaro staggered back, sweat dripping from his brow.
— "Impossible… my life… it's leaking away?!"
Maera's trembling hand strummed her cursed strings, hoping to drown his mind in a melody of paralysis.
But when her eyes met his, the song shattered, and string by string the guitar snapped apart.
She gasped, her hand frozen in place.
— "No… he doesn't hear the melody… he devours my soul!"
Drake, the brute, wasted no time. He charged with a hammer strike that shook the ground like thunder, dust swallowing the scene.
But through the haze, Kim walked forward slowly.
Drake's arm trembled violently—half his strength gone in an instant.
— "What did you do to me?!"
Kim's cold reply:
— "I've taken a piece of your life… a piece you'll never reclaim."
Felix, the serpent in the shadows, lunged with his poisoned needle aimed at Kim's neck.
But before the strike could land, Kim turned.
His abyssal eye caught Felix's gaze—
and the assassin froze mid-air, collapsing like a severed puppet.
— "This isn't a fight… it's an execution."
The crowd fell silent.
Even the master of the arena stood without a smile, whispering through clenched teeth:
— "What kind of demon have I unleashed?"
Kim stood at the center, bleeding from earlier wounds, yet his eyes devoured the battlefield.
No longer a fighter. A king born of ruin.
Suddenly, lines of text burned across the void before him:
> Main Skill [Death Gaze] Activated.
Restraints Reset.
Royal Path Unlocked.
Title Gained: Death Tiger.
Sub-skills available for awakening.
For the first time, Kim's lips curved into a cold smile.
He understood—the fall he suffered was only the beginning.
Raising his head toward the master's throne, his voice cut sharper than any blade:
— "You wanted a game… but you've created a king."
And with that, he advanced.
This was no longer survival.
This was a royal massacre.