He was coming for me; that was very clear. Looking very kill-happy, I doubted he had any plans for a painless murder. I think he was the type to drag it out or maybe just get lost in a rage. Not realising his opponent was dead after splattering his face across the sands. Dying like that was a no-go, not my style. When I go out, I expect hordes of demons and the doom music playing in the background. Maybe get swallowed up by a mass of demonic creatures, shotgun and chainsaw in hand. Now, that's a way to go.

  Now getting my head smashed in by this crazy mofo, not on my watch, dude. Sadly, he didn't immediately surrender and instead blasted off like he had rocket boots. What is space? When someone is hopped up on magic PCP, they don't care about such things.

  "That is a lot of PCP," I muttered, trying to get into a fighting stance.

  Barely got up my guard before the towering oaf became intimate with my torso. The bastard didn't even buy me dinner first. I'm not that kind of person. I like personality, not magic steroid users. Okay, I am being too mean to Berserkers. They are pretty cool. Except for this prick, he can go eat crayons. His speed was impressive, but not enough to bridge the gap in moments. A quick dodge to the side would suffice, so he turned mid-charge and socked me across the face.

  It rang a bell throughout my skull and stunned me into confusion. I barely saw him land, so dazed I was. But the growling gargoyle man on all fours suggested something bestial had awakened. Shaking off the stars, I decided that holding back was not in the cards. The bastard was a decently levelled Berserker and burning through a major buff skill. If I were a betting man, I would bet on me getting killed way before his buff ended. With that in mind, I withdrew the Holy Grail from my bag. The feeling of warm metal between my fingers sent a thrill down my spine.

  Don't get any kinky ideas; this is not a metal fetish. No, this is the power of coffee, the power that will steer the world back on course, put the power in my hands, the right hands. Without any hesitation, I downed the entire bottle, chugging it like it was ambrosia. It was time to fight fire with fire, Tweaker against Tweaker. Eyes widened, heart beating like a machine gun, energy flowed without end. Jenny sent me a notification about a buff. I quickly dismissed it and prepared to rampage.

  I could feel the heat on my breath, my veins bulging in my neck. Hands could no longer sit still, I needed to move, and move I did. With a thought, I bounded forward, sword at the ready, and moving with such speed, Hermes would envy. Slicing him to bits was child's play; every stroke of the blade hit something important. It moved of its own accord, faster than the lumbering freak could even fathom. Then he blasted me again with that AoE Berserker attack. Sending shockwaves in every direction.

  Through sheer grit, I remained standing against the torrent of energy. Every time it buffeted me, threatening to send me across the arena. I felt a small trace of the emotions contained within. Each blast contained the system's power. A system skill, no doubt about it. Converted rage into raw energy and expressed that power externally. Becoming fury made manifest.

  I sensed that fury and knew that was merely a sliver of his rage. He had strength and ferocity, while I had speed and precision. Who would win this game of blood? Leveraging my speed, I quickly backpedaled, swiftly leaving his effective range. Now at a distance, I sent taunting strikes. One force blast after another, riling him up with every impact. I knew that exciting his rage would strengthen him. But with everything, there was a cost.

  And I could see the cost; it was as plain as day. Through the eyes of the system, I saw how its energy artificially increased his power, raising it above his limits. What else I saw secured my victory, if only I could survive long enough. Maintaining my distance, I sped across the arena. Let off a few more force blasts just to keep him interested. A kiting strategy was effective, but the distance made each strike minimal. A weakness in my power made itself very clear. The greater the distance, the weaker the attack.

  "Come and face me, human filth!" he roared like a madman.

  "Not human, dickhead." I yelled back.

  "You will die like a human!"

  I didn't reply; he was too far gone to make any sense. Keeping insisting I was a human. I know I looked like a human, sounded like a human. Even talked like a human, but that didn't mean I was one. Look at my arms, for instance; they are way longer than they should be. He was adamant and made his rage clear by getting a running start and leaping across the arena.

  Going full superclerkan on me, he descended like a star and slammed into me. Catching me completely off guard, who knew he could jump that far? His blows came in time with the crowd going nuts. I totally forgot I had an audience, and they were toasting my end. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and for a moment I thought of blasting rock music into their brains. But the current situation demanded my attention. A giant gargoyle straddled atop me, ready to rain blow after blow.

  Using my enhanced speed, I dodged the first few strikes. His unleashed punches were ineffective, since I could just super-speed my head to the side. He growled like a beast, frustrated at his prey's continued insistence on living. Blood dribbled down the corners of his mouth as his eyes turned red. Instead of a punch, he slammed his forehead into mine. If I hadn't had my barrier, he would have caved in my head, or it would have been just bone and brain matter. Luckily I did, but it didn't save me from one of the worst headaches of my life.

  Something wet dribbled down my nose, and I believe he broke it. In anger and pure stupidity, I head-butted him back. The beast barely even flinched, just laughed that gravelly chuckle of his. That pissed me off, but I wasn't a Berserker, so my anger didn't help. Okay, I see why he chose the class. Struggling under his impressive strength, I flailed about like a fish out of water. With the speed of a cheetah, I desperately landed blow after blow until he said enough was enough. He head-butted me again and then again for good measure.

  Dazed and with spots appearing in my vision, I stuck to the plan. Even though it was a very painful plan. I could feel my enhanced speed slip away; the effect had come to its end. A sluggish heaviness descended on my body. I could barely move, let alone resist. Instead of killing me right away, clarity returned to his expression. Cold, murderous intent replaced his scowling wrath. With the return to a semblance of calm, the red glow around him ceased.

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  Not understanding why he calmed down, maybe so he could crush my skull with a cool head? It was my chance regardless of his motivation. Before I could even try anything, he raised his hands to the ceiling and screamed a terrible war cry. Was he showboating to the crowd? He was! Considering the crowd had only gotten louder, with screams for my head. I felt a bit targeted and so enacted my plan in earnest. Using force attract I pulled my discarded blade to me. Activated the weapon and tried to put it through his eye.

  He grabbed the blade halfway to his face, didn't even flinching from holding a literal live mana wire. My Aetherblade was pure force and mana, didn't even phase him in the least. That savage grin returned, that knowing smile. He had me; that was the truth as he saw it. Then I activated the extension feature. The blade lengthened in a matter of seconds and sliced through his pupil and possibly into his brain. With a wet squelch, it slid through the eyeball and spurted a spray of blood as he leaned back. He had some brains and quickly fled, his gnarled fingers trying to keep his peeper in its socket.

  The blade returned to its normal shape as I got to my feet unsteadily. Glaring at each other as the crowd went silent as a grave. A standoff began, neither moving, just waiting for the other to attack.

  "I will take your eye for that!" he screamed.

  "I don't think you have that long."

  A moment later his eyes bulged; the one I practically carved out fell to the sands. The other stayed in its place and displayed an expression of horror and pain. Twitching up a storm, the Garathi Berserker desperately tried to move, finding his body limp and unresponsive. At least from what I could see. Especially since what happened to him probably produced that kind of effect. Behind the man, the smug face of Xynthia peaked over and gave an innocent smile at the man she had just murdered. And what a murder it was!

  Her hand was halfway through the back of his skull. Melding into the flesh, intangible and slightly transparent. I didn't get a good look, but I think she got ahold of his brain. And with a pop, a gruesome little bundle exited his skull. The pink bundle covered in blood and wriggly flesh was none other than his brain. Without that thing controlling the body, it slumped to the ground, lifeless. Hefting the mind of her foe as if it were a loaf of bread, she grinned like a serial killer.

  "Didn't know he had one of these."

  "Oh, he surely did, just got little use." I quipped.

  "You could say he was..." She gestured to the brain. "Small-minded."

  "Barely fitting in your palm, I'm amazed it even worked."

  "It's not the size but how you use it; he never learned that." She joked before dropping the brain with a soft squelch.

  Both of us couldn't stop grinning like a pair of drunk frat guys. Only drawn away from our little joke competition to the lack of cheering. I mean, we just defeated the gladiators, so surely this would afford us a few claps. Turning to the crowd, I found it stunned into silence. Garathi and Volkaran alike were just standing there, rows upon rows of spectators. The urge to do what must be done overpowered me. I must heed the call, so I stepped forward.

  Raising my arms wide, I spun around, taking in every single face I could make out. Glaring up at the crowd like I hadn't a care in the world. I spoke the words, told the tale, a sang the song to be sung.

  "Are we not entertained!" I roared to the crowd above, channeling the commander of the northern armies and the Felix legion.

  By the gaming gods, that was an outstanding movie. I should total binge - watch that again. As soon as I escaped this death trap. Sadly, no one in the crowd got the reference. Clearly, there were no transmigrated fellows among their ranks. Would I be forever the only nerd in a world of the ignorant?

  Yet, the crowd did not pay me any attention, their gazes turned elsewhere instead. I tracked their eyes and found them locked on the balcony opposite ours. A figure stood tall and regale, the picture of a noble liege, casting judgement upon tonight's proceedings. Given my experience with such fellows, for example, that dick of an emperor in Gladiator — he was probably a dick as well.

  "A new competitor has shown his mettle in the arena. Rambunctious yet deadly. We should award his bravery." The regale figure announced.

  Did he just go with it, ignoring the fact I wasn't on the gladiators' agenda? Or did he just assume his lackeys added me to the roster, now that they are sweating bullets and covering their asses? Could be any of these, so ill just go with it.

  "Hey, I got the kill; he should praise me!" Xynthia said, indignant.

  "Maybe he's sexist." I suggested.

  "Yeah, definitely looks like the type. I can't see him clearly, but I can tell he has a smug grin."

  I nodded completely agreeing as she saddled up next to me. Hands still bloodied and without a care in the world. I think I was starting to like this person and probably fear them. I mean, she ripped out a dude's brain while grinning like a serial killer. But then again, I have lost track of how many I have killed.

  "As a reward for his incredible showing, we shall test his skill against the Titan!" he announced with a theatrical flourish at the end.

  The roar of the crowd was immense; every single figure erupted into a great cheer. It felt like they were toasting our deaths and celebrating the slaughter to come. That's exactly what they were doing, after all the entertainment we gave them. The crowd is a fickle mistress. I barely registered the blood seeping out of the slain corpses and coalescing above; it had become normal at this point. What truly garnered our interest was the great thud. The subsequent thud that shook the sands was not a good sign.

  "What's that?" My companion asked.

  "It's coming from the gate." I gestured to the massive rusted gate on the other side of the arena.

  Thud after thud did not bode well for our survival, especially with the sound getting closer. Prepared for whatever came through, I readied my blade and skills. Xynthia did whatever she did, and the pair of us were as ready as we could be. That was until a massive green-skinned hand reached out from the darkness and tore the metal bars apart like they were tissue paper. The massive hand ripped the gate apart, sending it flying like a toy. What followed was a low growl as the lumbering form ducked under the roof and stepped into the light.

  "They have a cave troll." I quoted a man who died tragically.

  The snarling tusks, the massive frame and the pretty decent set of armour that looked like fifty pieces welded together. The moment it stepped onto the sand, I knew we were doomed. And yet, a small part of me was looking forward to the fight. Especially when I got a prompt from Jenny about a few pending level ups.

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