Chapter 5

As Braden entered the arena, a deafening roar erupted. But he still felt nothing.

His challenger was a head taller and twice his size. When their eyes met, the challenger bared yellow teeth and growled at Braden.

It’s been a while since a decent opponent showed up.

Braden glanced at the woman by the entrance. She was still watching him.

His boredom faded, and his blood began to stir.

Was it because the opponent was strong, or because he wanted to show the woman praying for his victory how strong he was? He wasn’t sure.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you are truly lucky. Welcome to the greatest match.”

The host’s voice brought another wave of cheers.

“Today’s match is between Braden, the Emperor of Consecutive Wins who has never lost since entering the Colosseum, and the terrifying rookie Greg, who’s on the same path.”

“Waaah!”

“Will the Emperor of Consecutive Wins keep his throne? Or will Greg become the new emperor? There has never been a match this exciting!”

Listening to the host’s noisy introduction, Braden smirked.

Emperor, in a tiny neutral state, inside a little Colosseum—it was laughable.

‘Should I threaten to leave the Colosseum if they keep up that embarrassing introduction?’ 

Braden thought, as Greg picked up a double-headed axe the weight of a child and swung it around to show off his strength.

Braden watched him.

Despite his massive size and power, Greg moved quickly.

Each swing of the axe made a threatening sound in the air, and his bulging arms were as thick as Braden’s thighs.

“Waaah!”

The crowd went wild at Greg’s display.

If that axe hit you, whether it was your neck or your arm, it would be chopped off.

Definitely formidable. Today, bare hands won’t cut it.

In the beginning, the Colosseum was full of gladiators who were all show. After Braden’s winning streak, the atmosphere had changed a lot.

Now, not just big guys, but increasingly skilled fighters challenged him.

Braden went to the weapon rack and chose a heavy longsword.

“Today’s challenger Greg picked the double-headed axe used for hunting monsters. Braden picked the longsword.”

“Waaa! Braden! Braden!”

“K*ll him! Whistle!”

Even just picking a weapon, the crowd cheered wildly.

Braden could handle any weapon, from bare-handed fighting to daggers, long swords, and spears. That’s why even his weapon choice was a hot topic.

“Let’s begin the match.”

The host quickly exited.

Greg charged at Braden with full force. He didn’t waste energy swinging his axe unnecessarily—he wasn’t just a showoff.

Despite the tremendous force, Braden didn’t avoid him and ran straight at him. The axe swung, and Braden deflected it with his sword, then quickly moved back and kicked Greg’s leg.

This was a gladiator match, not a knights’ tournament. There was no code of chivalry.

There was only one rule.

Win, no matter what.

Anyone else’s knee would have buckled, but Greg was tough. He staggered for a moment, then spun and swung his axe.

“Not bad.”

Braden snorted and lightly stepped back.

“Hey, do you know who I am? I’m Greg, the Double Axe Monster Hunter.”

Greg growled.

“I see.”

He’d heard of him. A mercenary hired by the Empire for monster hunting, with a fair bit of fame.

“‘I see’? Who do you think you are, you nobody!”

Annoyed by Braden’s indifferent response, Greg’s eyes flared as he charged, swinging his axe.

Braden, watching his movements, knocked both axes out of Greg’s hands.

“Oops, your axes are gone?”

His axes flew away so easily, Greg stared at his empty hands for a moment.

“Shall we have some show time now? If it ends too quickly, it’s boring.”

Braden grinned, then threw his own longsword far away.

“Going bare-handed against me? Ha ha, what a show-off.”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Thud.

Braden swung his foot and struck Greg’s nose. So fast, Greg couldn’t dodge.

Blood spurted from both nostrils, spraying everywhere.

“You couldn’t dodge that? Disappointing, Double Axe. Next is your mouth.”

Braden’s beating began.

Blood that started from the nose soon flowed from the mouth, and finally from torn skin around the eyes. Greg was soon covered in blood.

But the blood was partly for the crowd, and partly to slow down his opponent. No mercenary would back down just because he was bloodied. Greg was no exception.

“You!”

Greg stretched his arms and kicked, charging at Braden with all his might. He was confident in his endurance. He believed that if he landed even a single solid hit, he’d win no matter how many times he got hit.

Or so he thought—until he took a few hits from Braden.

Thud!

“Ugh!”

Thud! Thud!

“Gah!”

Despite being half his size, every blow from Braden felt like being struck with a mace. The pain was overwhelming for Greg.

Thud!

“Aaagh!”

“Heh, as expected. He’s got great endurance.”

Any other opponent would have gone down after a single blow, but Greg only staggered for a moment.

As time passed, his legs weakened and he would have collapsed, but Greg stubbornly rose to his feet, even as he wobbled.

Thud! Thud-thud-thud!

“Ugh!”

“He’s got good grit, too.”

Because of that, it took longer than usual for Greg to finally collapse.

But no matter how tough he was, there was a limit to endurance. After taking blows to his jaw and left side in succession, Greg lost consciousness and fell backward.

“Waaaah!”

As Greg went down, the roar from the crowd was indescribable. It was a thrilling match, especially since Greg had lasted so long against Braden.

Among the Colosseum’s gladiators, there were many who killed their opponents. It was a way to gain popularity and draw larger crowds.

The more life-threatening the struggle, the fiercer and more urgent it was, and the crowds cheered wildly for such brutal matches.

But Braden never killed any opponent. He didn’t break their arms or legs to leave them crippled, either. So, to satisfy the audience, he made sure there was at least this much blood.

Braden wiped away the sweat and Greg’s blood from the back of his hand.

He picked up his opponent’s axe and raised it high. The host shouted Braden’s victory, adding all sorts of flowery praise and excitement.

Ssshh.

Braden’s gaze moved to where the woman had been standing. But she was gone.

Too bad. He had thought about dedicating the spoils to her today.

Her cold blue eyes, her pure white skin, those intensely red lips, her dignified voice.

Her appearance, paradoxical yet harmonious, felt mysterious—her image lingered and faded like the scent of lily of the valley he had smelled at the end.

Heh, thinking about a woman.

Her image, vividly imprinted in that brief moment.

Braden shook his head as if to shake off the afterimage.