First Kill

Rodri did not dare take the initiative. He could only hope that the Undying God of War before him had come to throw the match.

Harrot had no such concerns. He stepped forward, swung his greatsword, and swept it toward Rodri.

The greatsword was aimed at Rodri's waist. With Harrot's 21 Strength and Lv. 5 Power Strike, one hit would be enough to cut him in half.

Rodri was frightened by Harrot's ferocious aura and ruthless attack. His reaction was half a beat too slow, but at the critical moment, he still rolled to the ground and narrowly dodged the fatal blow.

Harrot did not care that his sword had missed. The Bald Man had repeatedly emphasized that his opponent was extremely fast. It would have been strange if that strike had landed.

Harrot continued wildly slashing at Rodri with his greatsword, while Rodri turned pale with fright and kept rolling and dodging. He did not dare counterattack at all. The twin blades in his hands had become nothing but dead weight, and he wished he could simply throw them away.

Harrot had 21 Strength, Lv. 3 Weapon Mastery, and 112 Weapon Proficiency.

That allowed him to wield the more-than-twenty-pound greatsword with ease. He did not need to stop and rest at all, relentlessly pursuing Rodri with wave after wave of attacks. One mistake, one failed dodge, and Rodri would die on the spot.

The stands erupted as the audience shouted loudly. Harrot's demon-like brutality perfectly matched their expectations.

Yet among the spectators, a middle-aged man who bore some resemblance to Rodri did not cheer. Instead, he slumped in his seat, his face ashen.

He watched Rodri narrowly evade attack after attack, his whole body covered in dust, his expression despairing, and his appearance utterly miserable.

The middle-aged man's eyes reddened as he muttered, "How could this be? How could this happen? Didn't they say that as long as I was willing to pay, they would sell my son back to me?"

In the VIP seats, a bearded nobleman sat with his daughter, surrounded by a group of guards, watching Rodri's struggle with great interest. From time to time, they laughed and made comments.

The bearded man asked his daughter in a low voice, "Well? Do you feel much better now? Are you satisfied with my arrangements?"

The nobleman's daughter looked no older than sixteen. Once, she had shaken off her guards and gone out to play in the countryside, only to be raped by Rodri. After that, she had become much more withdrawn and depressed.

Seeing her enemy suffer so miserably with her own eyes, she nodded gratefully at her father. "Thank you, Father. Trash like him deserves this kind of fate! But what happened to me... it won't get out, will it?"

"Don't worry. Only you, me, and the person in charge at the Gladiatorial Arena know about this. That fellow is also my friend, and he will not talk nonsense. I guarantee that your reputation will not suffer in the slightest."

__________________

The scene returned to the arena. Faced with Harrot's frenzied assault, like that of a killing machine, Rodri thought in terror and despair, He isn't throwing the match. He really means to kill me!

Tears streamed from the corners of Rodri's eyes as he thought unwillingly, I don't want to die. I can't die. I still have to restore my family's glory. I still have to obtain noble status. I can't die like this!

I only played with a few country women. Why should I be treated like this? I refuse to accept it! I want to live!

Everyone had the desire to survive. Even scum would not willingly go to their deaths.

I want to live! I want to defeat you!

Rodri's unwillingness and fury overcame his fear of death, reigniting his fighting spirit and giving him the courage to face Harrot.

After taking several deep breaths, Rodri gripped the curved blades he had nearly thrown away and began to counterattack.

When Harrot raised his greatsword for a vertical slash, Rodri did not flee as he had before. Instead, he silently thought, The opportunity is here!

Rather than retreat, Rodri advanced. He twisted his body ninety degrees to evade Harrot's downward slash, closed in before Harrot, and swiftly slashed Harrot's bare upper body with the blade in his right hand.

Then Rodri rapidly retreated, dodging Harrot's counterattack.

Rodri's heart pounded violently. He was exhilarated at having struck his enemy, yet terrified at having brushed past death.

Rodri suppressed the fear in his heart, stood at a distance, spun the twin blades in his hands, and looked provocatively at Harrot.

After witnessing Rodri's splendid counterattack, the stands erupted in thunderous cheers. A one-sided slaughter could never compare to an evenly matched battle.

Rodri's father straightened up from his seat, his eyes fixed on the two men in the arena as he said, "Come on, Rodri. You can do it. You can defeat him!"

Meanwhile, the nobleman's daughter in the VIP seats grew worried and asked in panic, "Father, what do we do? That big gladiator might not be able to beat that scum!"

The bearded nobleman smiled calmly, reached out to stroke his daughter's head, and said, "Don't worry. That big fellow's strength is extraordinary. He cannot possibly lose to that scum."

The bearded man was a capable noble who frequently went to war, and his eye for combat was exceptional. He knew Harrot and Rodri were not on the same level.

Moreover, he trusted the Bald Man. Since the Bald Man had agreed to this, he would absolutely send out a guaranteed winner. Otherwise, the Bald Man would take the field himself.

Rodri was indeed quite skilled. His sidestep and close-range attack just now had been extremely fast, and Harrot truly had not reacted in time.

However, Harrot remained as steady as ever. The wound on his chest was not deep; his muscles had not been torn, and only his skin had been cut, causing a little bleeding. The system showed that he had lost 2 Health, currently 50/52.

Rodri's Strength was ordinary, less than 10. His weapons were battered blades whose edges had curled beyond belief. On top of that, his attack had been too fast—his strike and withdrawal had taken less than a second in total—and his body had been unstable during the attack, leaving him unable to exert any real force.

With Harrot's solid muscles and the double defense of "+10 Golden Bell Shield," the other man's attack was nothing more than a scratch.

Moreover, this kind of attack was incredibly risky. Reality was not a game or a movie. There was no button one could press to block or dodge, and the human mind had its limits.

When one knew perfectly well that the opponent could kill them in a single strike, it was impossible to calmly think and flawlessly dodge and counterattack without any mistakes or accidents.

Rodri's counterattack was a gamble, a wager of life itself. If he won, he would inflict only a minor wound on Harrot. If he lost, he would die!

Rodri's heart was pounding violently. His entire body was abnormally excited, his mind raced, and his body was filled with strength. This was caused by the massive secretion of hormones when one came extremely close to death.

He was now practically on stimulants. Rodri began rapidly thinking of a way to defeat Harrot.

Harrot's attacks were terrifyingly powerful, his speed was not slow, and his stamina seemed endless. Rodri knew that he was far inferior to his opponent.

It would have been one thing if the two curved blades in his hands had been divine weapons, but gladiators used nothing but junk.

Rodri understood from his previous attack that unless he struck a vital point, his attacks could only inflict superficial wounds on Harrot. How many such hits would it take to defeat him?

Harrot's nickname was the "Undying God of War." One could tell from the name alone that he was a monster with astonishing Constitution. He would probably still be full of vigor even after taking more than ten of Rodri's slashes.

Then I can only gamble on this. After dodging his attack, I must strike a vital point in one move!

Rodri did not know why he was in such excellent condition, why he had not only overcome his fear but could make his body and mind perform beyond their limits. Yet his instincts told him this state would not last long. He had to end the battle as quickly as possible.

Rodri took the initiative and attacked Harrot. His body was abnormally excited, but his mind was extremely calm, allowing him to easily judge Harrot's attack path.

Too slow!

Rodri dodged Harrot's attack by the narrowest possible margin. The wind generated by the swinging greatsword made his skin sting with pain.

He closed in on Harrot, his eyes fixed on the vital points of Harrot's body. Curved blades were not suited for thrusting, so the head and heart were not the best targets. The neck was the ideal target.

"Die!"

Rodri exerted all his strength with both arms. Holding the twin blades in a reverse grip, he crossed his hands, leaped into the air, and slashed toward Harrot's neck.

After Harrot's greatsword missed, his hands had no time to return to defend. Rodri was about to strike his vital point.

A savage grin spread across Rodri's face. He could already foresee Harrot's throat being cut open and him dying of suffocation.

Suddenly, Rodri felt an enormous force strike his abdomen, and his whole body flew uncontrollably through the air.

While airborne, Rodri discovered the source of that force: Harrot's right knee!

Generally speaking, gladiators wielding a one-handed sword and shield often used shield bashes, kicks, and similar attacks to assist their offense or disrupt their opponents.

However, wielding a two-handed greatsword placed high demands on one's lower body. Using one's legs to attack would destabilize one's center of gravity and greatly affect greatsword attacks, so gladiators who wielded greatswords rarely used leg attacks.

Harrot's knee strike had been premeditated. He had already guessed Rodri's intentions.

Using his agile movements to evade attacks, closing in on him, and then striking a vital point—that plan was far too obvious.

But it was also Rodri's only chance of victory. Facing Rodri's desperate final gamble, Harrot deliberately made a casual swing and let his opponent evade it easily.

Harrot focused all his attention on his legs. The instant Rodri dodged his attack, Harrot's knee was already driving forward.

After Rodri evaded the greatsword, all his attention was on Harrot's neck. He charged forward as though he had deliberately thrown himself into Harrot's knee.

Rodri fell painfully to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth. That knee strike had shattered his internal organs.

This was the stark manifestation of their difference in Strength. Rodri's attacks could barely harm Harrot, while one casual blow from Harrot was enough to leave Rodri unable to rise.

Defeating the strong with the weak, overcoming hardness with softness—it truly was not so simple!

Harrot looked at the enemy lying on the ground and knew the outcome had been decided. The audience shouted in unison, "Kill him! Kill him!"

Harrot had accepted a mission to execute this rapist, so naturally he would not show mercy. With one slash, he cut Rodri in half. The nobleman was watching; being more ruthless could only help.

Experience +200

After executing Rodri, Harrot stood in the center of the arena and enjoyed the audience's cheers and applause, but there was no joy in his heart.