"Beautiful Beast" Igula

"The new cult leader is going to fight Beautiful Beast in a deathmatch!"

"Beautiful Beast won't even pass up 1 Contribution Point?"

"Could the cult leader have already fallen for his trick?"

"Oho, then it won't just be 1 Contribution Point. Beautiful Beast might rake in 50 Contribution Points this time..."

Listening to the chatter from the stands, Ash wrapped bandages around his fists and forced a smile. "Looks like you really were playing dumb to catch a big fish."

"I think you were the one hiding your strength to lure me in." Igula, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned, smiled. "You're the leader of the Four Pillar Gods Church who dared to defy the Bloodfury Hunter, while I'm just an ordinary con man. No matter how you look at it, your combat ability should be higher, shouldn't it?"

Indeed, before agreeing to the deathmatch with Igula, Ash had asked Lang Na about Igula's criminal record.

After all, nearly every inmate went on the News Channel to introduce themselves upon arrival, so the criminals' histories were practically public knowledge. Just as everyone now knew Ash was the minor cult leader taken down by the Hunters.

Igula Bojin, also known as the Fraudster, had worked in insurance. He had been imprisoned after defrauding numerous wealthy people out of vast sums of money. He was a Mind Artificer, possessing a series of Spell Spirits capable of manipulating the mind, including Contract.

Although Spell Spirits were theoretically banned in Prison, the ban only prohibited their direct use, not their complete use.

Mind Artificers like Igula, who focused on mental cultivation, could still activate their Spell Spirits through rhetoric, Suggestion, body language, and other methods. Just like the team invitation Igula had sent Ash in the hall—once Ash agreed, the Spell Spirit would silently brand a mark onto his mind.

It sounded as though Igula truly had no direct combat ability, but—

Ding!

The lights around the Deathmatch Club dimmed once more, leaving only the Light Screen above the arena to draw everyone's gaze.

"Igula Bojin wagers 46 Contribution Points."

"VS."

"Ash Hiss wagers 1 Contribution Point."

In deathmatches, everyone only wagered the minimum amount. In other words, Igula had already fought forty-five deathmatches!

And according to Lang Na, Igula had won every one of those forty-five matches!

So why had Ash agreed to this deathmatch?

Because he had already agreed.

When Igula jokingly asked Ash whether he wanted a deathmatch, Ash had answered with an equally joking, "Sure, sure." At that moment, he had already fallen into the trap—he could no longer take back that joke.

It was difficult to describe the feeling. His body had not been controlled; rather, his very notions had been altered. It was like suddenly forming the absurd belief that water was deadly poison. Ash was utterly certain that he had to fight Igula in a deathmatch.

Ash did not know what would happen if he refused, because the Thought of refusing simply would not arise in his mind. It was as if even thought, the freest of all things, had been shackled.

"That's why you shouldn't casually respond to anyone's invitations in the future."

Leaning against the railing, Sword Maiden said lazily, "You're the Doomsday Watcher, you know. If you ask me, you should reject everyone's goodwill and malice alike. Say 'no' to everything. Seize all things with your own power, define all things with your own will, and rule the world like a Demon King—"

"No!"

"...You brat..."

Just as Sword Maiden choked on her words, transparent barriers rose around the arena, declaring the official start of the deathmatch.

As a ding rang out in his mind, Ash felt as though some shackle within him had been released. The Neck Microchip no longer restrained them from attacking each other!

At the same time, Igula lowered his body and rushed forward, his agile frame lunging like a Cheetah pouncing on prey!

Ash immediately raised his arms to guard and dodged to the side. Yet Igula seemed to have predicted his reaction long in advance, sweeping Ash's legs out from under him and sending him sprawling face-first!

Even though Ash quickly rolled and got back to his feet, he still could not evade Igula's follow-up attack. A heavy punch slammed into his stomach, forcing out a muffled groan as bile nearly rose from his throat.

"Clench your teeth." Igula gave him a "kind" reminder before driving another fist into Ash's temple!

The blow left Ash dizzy. With his back against the wall, he used his arms to shield his vital areas. Yet Igula seemed able to foresee every move he made. Every jab and hook landed where Ash failed to defend. Before long, Ash's face was bruised, swollen, and flushed red as he fled in a miserable state while getting pummeled.

He roared inwardly, Hasn't the experience transfer started yet? At this rate, I'm going to get beaten to death!

It hurts! Sword Maiden, hurry up and possess me so I can beat the hell out of this blond bastard!

Sword Maiden Mama, save me—

Sword Maiden said perfunctorily, "Soon, soon. The more you get beaten up, the faster the experience transfers. And don't just stand there taking hits. Try fighting back!"

"Will fighting back speed up the experience transfer?"

"No, but it'll make this deathmatch more entertaining. Watching you get completely thrashed is actually pretty boring."

Though she said that, Sword Maiden was somewhat surprised inside.

Ash getting beaten around like a ball had been well within her expectations. This was Broken Lake Prison, after all. Ash entering a deathmatch here was like a Little Lamb walking into a pack of wolves. It would have been stranger if he had not been devoured whole.

She had expected Ash to reveal an unbearable level of ugliness—falling to his knees, begging for mercy, crying his eyes out, and so on. Yet although Ash was in a sorry state, he had done everything he could: keeping his back against the wall to reduce the area he could be hit, protecting the triangular zone of his face with both hands, getting up immediately after falling instead of lying on the ground to be pinned down... What surprised Sword Maiden most was that Ash had not cried.

For an Otherworld Soul who had lived in a greenhouse and never experienced bloodshed, Ash's will was unexpectedly resilient. He even possessed a certain ability to soothe himself psychologically.

He kept muttering to Sword Maiden in his mind, using conversation to ease the pain. Yet he had not lost focus either. His defensive movements grew cleaner and sharper, while his evasive reactions under attack became faster and faster. He was practically...

Practically like a sponge that never stopped learning.

Sword Maiden suddenly had a feeling: even without her, without the Sorcerer's Manual, Ash would still quickly adapt to this seemingly beautiful yet cruel world after enduring the initial pain of crossing over.

He was not a coward at heart. Once placed in another environment, his true nature would reveal itself.

As expected... he was the Doomsday Watcher...

Smack!

Ash felt as though the bones in his arm were burning. Sword Maiden was urging him to strike back, and he was getting angry from all the beating too. Even a clay figure had some temper, let alone Ash, who was never one to swallow humiliation.

He had his own way of surviving at work. Other than not arguing with his superiors, he refused to suffer even the slightest loss among colleagues. He was capable, knew how to flatter people, and shouted loudly enough when claiming credit. He had done quite well in the workplace, or his boss would not have sent him to serve as the Team Leader for a new game's operations team.

So, spotting an opening and recalling the Military Boxing he had learned during military training, he threw out a Horse Stance Punch!

"So soft. So cute."

Igula casually tilted his head aside as if strolling through a market, a disdainful smile on his face. He dodged Ash's punch with exquisite precision, then punched Ash squarely in the face.

"You!"

"You—!"

"You—you—"

Ash found himself unable to curse, and every punch he threw missed.

Every punch Igula threw heavily wounded Ash. No matter how Ash dodged, he could not avoid them, while Igula only needed a slight twist to evade Ash's straight punches.

To outsiders, they did not look like they were fighting. It looked more like Acting—like Ash was actively offering his face to collide with Igula's fists.

"There it is again, Beautiful Beast's trick."

"Looks like this cult leader's remaining 49 Contribution Points are all going into Beautiful Beast's pocket too."

"Hmph, he's just using those flashy tricks. If it were me—"

"If it were you, what?"

"If it were me, he'd be squatting down to see whether I was still breathing!"

"Even if we can't beat Beautiful Beast, Lord Tiger definitely can!"

Tiger, the white-haired old man, hurriedly shook his head. "No, no. Young people these days are each generation stronger than the last. An old man like me will sooner or later become your stepping stone..."

Old man, could you take your hands off the railing before saying that? You're about to twist it into a pretzel! Everyone silently cursed, when someone suddenly looked toward Lang Na, who was snuggled against a burly man's chest. "Lang Na, can you see through Beautiful Beast's trick?"

"I don't know. And talking about it is useless anyway; you have to fight him to find out." Lang Na smiled. "But I don't want to fight Beautiful Beast. He's not my type. Don't worry, darling. As long as you're still breathing, I won't look at anyone else."

The burly man Lang Na was leaning against was covered in cold sweat, barely managing to force out a smile in the darkness.

Inside the deathmatch arena, Igula flicked the blood from his fist and asked casually, "Do you know why I won all forty-five of my previous deathmatches? My physical condition isn't particularly good, and my reflexes aren't particularly fast. But why can't you hit me, while I can hit you every single time?"

Yes. Through their fight just now, Ash had realized that Igula's physique was actually about the same as his. Forget comparing him to a monster like Diamond Tiger—even any random burly man could overpower Igula. They were clearly on the same level, yet Ash could not touch any part of Igula besides his face.

It would have been one thing if Igula's boxing technique had been exceptional, but Ash could tell that Igula's fighting skill was only average. Otherwise, Ash would never have lasted this long.

They were both rookies, so why were you the only one pecking me to death?

"I've defeated Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins. Many of them had physical abilities far beyond mine, yet all of them fell in this arena and transferred Contribution Points that did not belong to them to me." Igula spoke unhurriedly. "The reason you and they ended up like stray dogs has only one explanation—"

"You are livestock."

"Your lives never belonged to you."

"The moment you stepped into this arena, your neck was already fitted with the chain I prepared for you. Until I squeeze out your last Contribution Point, you are livestock under my control!"

"Livestock only has one fate—"

"To be bled, skinned, and then..." Igula's handsome face looked down at Ash from above. He licked his lips, revealing a cruel smile. "Carved by its master into delicious little pieces!"

"Continue, Ash Hiss. Don't think about surrendering. There are no rules for surrender in a deathmatch. Don't worry. I'm very gentle with livestock. It'll be over soon."

Ash straightened up, rolled his neck, and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva. "Yes."

Sword Maiden in the stands nodded as well and said lazily, "It's time to end this."