Steven's eyes warily opened from his shallow slumber. At first, the image of being in his bed in the human world surfaced vividly in his mind; however, he quickly ushered those luxuries away, forcing them out of his thoughts as reality settled in. He was sitting at the corner of his new home—this hellish prison. His body ached from the earlier battle, weighed down heavily by accumulated stress and fatigue.
Now that he was done resting, at least as much as this place allowed, he could finally finish checking the changes to his stats. Summoning the system, his gaze fell upon the notification that popped up before him.
{You have gained 1 Undead Core.}
{Undead Cores accumulated: 1}
Steven tapped on the notification, expecting it to expand and reveal a description. However, nothing appeared. It was a stat completely devoid of explanation, blank and unhelpful.
Steven sighed, dismissing the system entirely. 'I'll just have to find out some other time.'
Come to think of it, he had far more troubling thoughts to tend to. One of which was his sponsor.
Steven folded his legs and reclined further against the obsidian bars, seeking some form of comfort from their rough surface. That comfort, however, never came. Instead, the stale cold of the bars pierced into his skin, shaping themselves into his bones slowly, mercilessly.
Such harrowing luck.
Steven shook his head, pushing the thoughts away as his attention drifted back to the battle earlier—the strength of each Cohort member replaying vividly in his mind. One by one, he placed himself against them as an opponent. And honestly, when he weighed his current strength against theirs, he was nothing more than dead meat.
Drake was strong, and strangely perceptive—almost kin to sensing danger. Thinking back to how easily Drake had predicted the Rampage Blast, Steven couldn't help but feel unsettled. It was a strange ability, one Steven had no understanding of. Lin was strong too, her long-range energy slashes capable of ripping him to pieces at the very start of a fight. And then there was Favour, who possessed the strongest skill of all. Despite how long it took her to activate it, if she were positioned at a great distance and fired her compressed water blast, he would still be finished.
Steven frowned deeply at this analysis. 'If they were ever to betray me, I stand no chance of opposing them.'
He stared at his hands, tightening them into two balled fists, his eyes sinking under the weight of the truth. Still, he muttered quietly, almost stubbornly, "But my talent is better… and I'll eventually get stronger in time."
As if remembering something important, Steven turned his attention to the old man at the opposite end of the cage. The man was still curled in on himself, cowering with his knees drawn close to his chest. Steven reminisced quietly, 'I still have no idea how to entertain my sponsor… but I completed one of the three conditions to leave the trial when I met the Sea Deity. Does that mean if I can escape the Colosseum, I'll complete another condition?'
The assumption made sense. Just like the government official had instructed before he entered this realm—complete the trial and be brought back to the human world.
So the question became clear.
How would he escape the Colosseum?
Steven grew puzzled, his thoughts looping endlessly. After a while, he finally decided to ask the only person present who might have answers.
Turning his attention fully to the man in the corner, Steven spoke, "Hey, geezer. I've got a question."
The man reacted instantly to Steven's loud, commanding voice, his head lifting as his face slowly turned toward him.
Steven's expression paled as the old geezer's face came into view. Even from a distance, the changes were obvious—significant and unnatural. For starters, the man seemed younger. His once deeply wrinkled face no longer resembled a corpse. Now, he looked closer to sixty. The wrinkles had minimized to the point they were barely noticeable. His body had changed as well—no longer malnourished with flesh clinging desperately to bone. He was still skinny, but no longer starving.
This baffled Steven. He was witnessing the farce of a miracle—the lingering ability of the Sea Deity.
{Reward of the Sea Deity: A fragment of its body that sustains the consumer for over a week. However, if not consumed again after that week, the body will return to its original state.}
'Fair enough, I guess.' Steven sighed, his stomach grumbling softly in protest. Shamefully, he tried to hide the sound.
"Rat?" the old man spoke, his tone stressed with concern laced into his voice.
Steven smiled halfheartedly before replying, "We were never properly introduced. I'm Steven… and you?"
The old man furrowed his brows, puzzled by the sudden politeness. People often went mad in the cells—he had seen it many times—but for someone who had survived death itself, this was unexpected. 'What could have driven him mad all of a sudden?'
Deciding to play along, the old man answered, "I am Scribe."
"Okay, Scribe. Do you know any way out of this miserable place?" Steven went straight to the point.
"The Colosseum?" Scribe repeated, wanting to confirm. After Steven nodded, he replied, "Well, the first and best option was death itself… and you somehow managed to survive that."
As he spoke, Scribe weirdly patted his gut, disappointment laced into his voice.
Steven's face turned grim at the gesture.
Seeing the reaction, Scribe continued, "Well, the second option is pretty much the same as committing suicide. Everyone who's tried it is dead. But since you've cheated death twice already, you might just get lucky again."
Steven arched a brow, a strained sound wrenching its way from his lips. "And what would that be?"
"Battling the King Beast—the champion of the Fated Colosseum."
Steven's breath caught in his throat.
The King Beast.
He could only imagine how much stronger that monster would be compared to the Dreadling they had fought. Sensibly, it would be at least a full rank above it—something even fully awakened monsters would struggle to face.
And that was his way out of the Colosseum. Perhaps even his way out of the Realm of Entry itself.
The thought of this singular beast—being one of the requirements to leave the realm—terrified Steven to his bones. Would he never leave this cursed Colosseum? Or was he doomed to spend all his days striving here, fighting endlessly until he eventually died?
Because now, more than ever, Steven was confused.
//Author's note//
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