Book 1: Chapter 93: Apologetic Eko and A Drum's Beat

Book 1: Chapter 93: Apologetic Eko and A Drum's Beat

'I 'beat' Clicker in the 64-set, Muradon forfeited in the 32-set, that burly woman did the same in the 16-set and I just wrapped up the 8-set,' Lone thought. 'Only a single fight to go before the crown prince and that pedo scumbag are added into the mix.'

Lone exhaled deeply as he considered his plan going forwards. 'Oh god, it's stupid. Sophie would scream and yell at me and tell me not to do it... but I have to. A man can only get pushed so far before he falls over. I hope Soph's sleeping so she doesn't see what'll happen soon. That screen upgrade to The Summoning Room is a bit annoying now that I think about it.'

He hadn't even really used the telepathic function of it and honestly, he'd rather not talk to Soph or Sophie right now. He was scared one of them might convince him to change his mind on what he was planning to do from here.

Lone's time meditating came and went. When he checked his status to confirm how much time had passed he'd gained 75 SP meaning the break this time was only 15-minutes long.

Regardless, he proceeded out of the waiting room and noticed that there were two moderately-sized stages in the centre of the arena.

'Makes sense. This is the 4-set so there'll only be two fights,' Lone commented internally.

His 'opponent' this time was a handsome young bald man who looked like a monk. He had no weapons on him but he was wearing a conflicted expression on his face.

Lone paid him no mind. The two shook hands and just as Lone was about to part ways the monk said, "I am sorry, Brother. I have no desire to partake in this farce but I am left without a choice. If you survive through this ordeal and wish to seek me out for justice, find me at the Eastern World Tree. That is my next destination on my journey of self-discovery."

Lone gave him a scrutinising look. "I can only blame myself for what's happening here. Just forfeit and put it out of your mind. I don't think you or the other contestants are at fault."

"... I see. I wish you luck on your path, Brother," the monk said before letting go of Lone's hand and returning to his side of the stage.

As soon as the fight started, as expected, the monk declared the battle his loss.

"Number 301, Lone Immortus the Ninetailed Golden Foxkin advances to the semifinals!" the announcer yelled.

At this point, the crowd's thoughts on Lone were mixed so they didn't react too strongly to this announcement especially after what he had yelled in his last match. Instead, they focused on the other fighters since the king must have had a good reason for seeding Lone into the tourney's semifinals in such a strange manner.

"Brother, my name is Eko. I hope we meet again and in a less... harmful environment," the monk said before he bowed his head and held his palms together in respect.

''Hmm... I wonder what they threatened him with? Maybe death if he didn't forfeit? I wouldn't put it past them. Not like it matters. They'll still get what's coming to them. At this point, even if he hadn't forfeited I would have fought him just for the chance to fight the prince or that loser of a summoned hero,' Lone thought in silence as he returned to his waiting room.

"Oi, you. You're fighting the prince now so put on a good show, yeah?" a man holding a clipboard said to Lone, awakening him from his meditative state.

"... The prince, is it? Okay. Lead the way," Lone said as he cracked his neck, grabbed his swordspear then stood up. '50 SP this time. So 10-minutes. Shame I got the prince first... Oh well, when life gives you turds it's best to make some fertiliser.'

Unsurprisingly, there was only a single stage now. It was a lot grander than the prior ones and clearly the mages responsible for making it had put the effort in to make it visually appealing as opposed to the rather plain stages from the earlier fights.

Lone got onto the platform and stood patiently on his allotted side. Not a minute later the effeminately handsome crown prince entered the arena as the crowd screeching in joy at his appearance.

'He looks like one of those actors that starred in a highschool-based movie but they're actually 30. I see he has a sword but does he know how to use it?' Lone wondered.

"Welcoming onto the stage His Royal Highness Crown Prince Auberon!" the announcer yelled. "He is one of the kingdom's most accomplished swordsman for his young age and he has even shown a strong talent for lightning magic!"

The crowd went wild as they always did when someone or something that interested them was being described.

'Lightning magic, huh?' Lone thought. 'I wonder if he's Duke Malik's apprentice or something... That cunt practises lightning magic if I recall correctly. Hmm...'

The host has developed the active lightning magic skill: Amplified Current.

Congratulations! the host's passive skill [Lightning Magic Resistance] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 2.

Congratulations! the host's passive skill [Lightning Magic Resistance] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 3.

The magic had burnt a hole right through Lone's light clothing as if it were paper. That made sense to him, in all honestly. He didn't wear armour since his most-suited type was his bones and usually, he was eager to get hit to gain skills and let Basic Regeneration grow.

His skin was charred black and red blood flowed from a small crater that had formed in his lower torso where he'd been struck.

Lone now realised that perhaps he should have better prepared for the off chance of facing against a mage or two.

Regardless, he felt his muscles cramp up while he watched the prince's smirk widen as the man readied himself to attack Lone with the very sharp and very deadly weapon he was holding.

'Good. Underestimate me, you little shit. Unless you can apply your stats then I still have this under control,' Lone thought as he powered through the pain and numbness in his chest that was slowly spreading throughout his body. 'Truly a current, huh? What a nasty skill.'

"You're mine, beast!" Crown Prince Auberon yelled as he lunged forward and invoked another skill. "Lacerate!"

Lone didn't know what that skill was but the name alone gave enough context clues for him to know not to let himself just get cut up by it.

"Pierce!" he shouted back but his swordspear was, oddly enough, pointed nowhere near the prince.

"What a useless fool! Regret your actions in the Realm of the Primals!" the prince declared as his blade came within inches of Lone's head, ready to cut it in two from the top-down.

"Momentum Shift," Lone muttered.

A sharp stabbing sound could be heard as metal shredded through metal even over the screaming and hollering of the crowd before silence overcame the colosseum.

"You talk too much. We're fighting, not arguing," Lone said coldly as he slowly pulled his swordspear - now covering in blood - out of Crown Prince Auberon's gut and ruined chestplate.

The man's eyes shook wildly as he felt his grasp on his magical sword slip, resulting in the weapon clattering to the floor.

Lone slowly bent over and picked it up. "A nice blade. I've never seen a magical weapon before. I'll be claiming this," he said as he tossed it into what looked like an adventurer's pouch but he had actually put it in his Dimensional Storage.

"Now, to mete out justice," Lone whispered. "The arms with which you tried to kill me, they are now forfeit."

The prince shook with nothing but raw emotion. He was frozen solid despite his sporadic trembling. He'd never been injured like this before.

Sure, he'd been hit around a bit by his father and his instructors during training. That much was normal. But the pain of being stabbed so fiercely, and by a skill no less... To add insult to injury the one to deal the blow was a no-name slave beastkin.

All he could do was watch as the beastkin in front of him slowly brought his weapon down and cut both of his arms off as his mind was recoiling in shock.

It took a few seconds for the pain to catch up with his emotions and frazzled mind. "AHHHHHHH!" His scream filled the crowd with terror but more important a different sensation washed over them - anger.

A demihuman slave had just seriously injured their crown prince, crippled their crown prince, humiliated their crown prince. And now? And now the animal was looking at them like they were worth less than dirt.

Lone stared at the crowd with a truly harrowing gaze. "I am no freak show and I am no spectacle to be made a mockery of. If you wish for me to dance, then dance I shall, but only to the beat of my own drum!"