Archon stood on one side of the arena, calm and prepared. His opponent stood on the opposite end; a female warrior with a powerful, muscular physique.
I remembered her. She was one of the early characters in the novel. A fierce fighter. Brave. Skilled. But unfortunately, she was destined to die here today.
This was a harem story, after all. And the protagonist had absurd luck with women. But not all of them made it to his side.
For Archon, victory was everything. When it came to survival, he had no soft spot. Not even for a woman. That cold, decisive nature was what made him so terrifying.
And maybe... admirable.
In that moment, I realized something. I needed to learn from him.
If I wanted to live in this world, I couldn't afford weakness. No distractions. No hesitation.
No falling into a honey trap.
Soon, the battle began.
The female warrior charged first, her movements bold and fierce. She was the very embodiment of valor and courage, a seasoned fighter who didn't hesitate even for a second.
On the other side stood Archon like serene, composed, a quiet storm waiting to explode. His silver-white sword gleamed under the arena lights, reflecting his unwavering focus.
At this moment, he hadn't yet obtained his cheat ability. No hidden powers, no divine aid.
But even without them, he was far from ordinary.
Unlike me, thrown into battle with trembling hands and panic in my veins, Archon had trained as a warrior since childhood. Every swing, every block, every step he took had been honed through years of discipline.
He wasn't fighting with fear.
He was fighting with purpose.
At first, the crude spectators mocked him for his slim build and handsome looks, branding him as just another pretty boy with no real strength.
Their sneers echoed through the arena as Archon only defended in the opening exchanges, seemingly confirming their shallow assumptions.
But that image shattered with each passing second.
Archon suddenly shifted his stance, and his sword became a blur.
"Slash!"
A missed horizontal slash. But it was missed deliberately.
Then, with fluid precision, he followed up with a thrust, and immediately transitioned into a surprise upward slash that struck the female warrior square in the chest.
It wasn't brute strength that shocked the crowd.
It was the finesse. The control. The flawless maneuvering of his blade.
The female warrior stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief.
And the crowd, once full of mockery, now fell into stunned silence.
Eventually, with a final, flashy strike, Archon emerged victorious.
The crowd erupted in cheers, while the female warrior lay lifeless on the bloodstained ground.
Archon showed no guilt, no hint of sympathy for the fallen. His expression remained cold and distant.
He turned and walked toward the exit from which he came, completely unfazed by the deafening roars and chants of his name.
In that moment, he carved his presence into the world.
And from then on, a monster was born—a man who would walk the path of conquest to restore the lost honor of his fallen family.
As he passed by me, he spared a single glance.
A strange one.
As if he saw something unexpected.
Then, without a word, he moved on.
"You've done an excellent job, my pet."
A sultry voice echoed through the corridor.
Suddenly, a stunning woman appeared before Archon, flashing him a seductive smile.
She had long, cascading black hair, deep crimson lips, and an hourglass figure that made her look more like a high-class courtesan than a businesswoman.
Her outfit barely covered anything, revealing curves that seemed to defy modesty, yet radiated deadly allure. She was temptation made flesh.
I instantly recognized her.
Vienna Castros, one of the main female leads.
A powerful figure with influence, wealth, and beauty that shattered the resolve of even hardened men.
"Let's go. Now that you've passed the test, I'll buy you."
She giggled, pulling Archon's arm and nestling it between her breasts as she led him away like a prized pet.
Archon didn't seem to enjoy the attention, but he followed obediently. Because he needed to get out of this hellhole first.
And the glint of the Slave Collar around his neck said it all: resistance wasn't an option.
Moreover, defying a customer meant unimaginable pain, sometimes even death.
"It's her..."
I muttered under my breath, my eyes widening in realization.
I remembered now. She was the one who would take the protagonist to that old marketplace. That was where he'd discover his cheat: an ancient Soul Core disguised as junk, hidden in plain sight.
That moment marked the beginning of his rise.
I didn't know which shop it was. But I couldn't afford to miss it. I had to follow them.
Unfortunately, I was still property of the Battle Arena. Straying too far from my designated zone would activate the Slave Collar around my neck, giving me a death sentence hidden in silver.
So, using the knowledge, I formed a plan. A crafty one.
For that, I had to intercept them before they left the Arena grounds, while I still had some mobility.
Acting quickly, I followed them through the inner compound, keeping to the shadows.
I soon found them at the front of the slave merchant's hall, speaking with the Arena's main Manager.
"Madam Castros, so you've finally taken a liking to this one? Wonderful!"
The bald slave merchant beamed with joy, his wrinkled face creasing like paper.
Vienna gave a faint smirk. "He has potential. But that doesn't mean I'll pay just any price." Her tone turned sharp and businesslike. "You should know I'm from a merchant family too, Denkai. So don't test my patience. Just tell me an acceptable price so that we can both be happy."
The Manager rubbed his hands together awkwardly, trying to maintain a smile.
"How could I say no to Madam Castros? Alright… how about 899 gold? That sounds fair, doesn't it?" he said, suppressing a greedy grin behind his politeness.
"Absolutely not," Vienna snapped, her tone ice-cold. "I won't pay a dime over 600. Take it or leave it."
Her eyes were firm, unblinking. She clearly wasn't here to be swindled.
Meanwhile, Archon Ashborne stood to the side, his fists clenched tight. Though silent, his knuckles turned white with suppressed emotion.
Being bargained over like a piece of cattle; he hated it.
His pride, buried deep beneath his bindings, burned hot. He didn't look pleased in the slightest.