What compelled a human to risk their life?

Rakna glanced at one twitchy pale man visibly shaking; addiction. Another man was grinning and awaiting the next events happily; thrill. A woman was licking her lips, her gaze thirsty for blood and suffering; pleasure. One other person was sweating and nervous; desperation. A fourth type was cautious but eager; desire. The last one was determined and anxious; hope.

“{What is it? Are you apprehensive about having to kill them?}” Fray asked. “{That doesn’t sound like you. Though… perhaps that implies something good about your growth as well.}”

The therian huffed. ‘You think? Sadly, apprehensive is not the word. It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly feel regret for the lives I take after all this time,’ he retorted and let his eyes roam toward Rita, visibly ready to jump.

‘What this is about is far simpler and grimmer. For the first time, I might not have a choice. The death of my opponent will be my only solution and for that… I pity the fool who will be in that position,’ he said right as the auburn-haired woman leaped toward the hanging arena.

“{How prideful,}” Fray remarked with a smirk audible in his tone.

At the same time, they both saw Rita look over her shoulder during her jump. She stared at one particular man below and her eyes glowed, somewhat forming an aura around them. Her target first froze then suddenly followed after her in a daze before anyone else could.

‘I see. So, that was her plan,’ Rakna thought. ‘Charm? Mind control? Taunt skill? Might be a Nirvana Skill that combines all those into a sub-type. She chose and prepared a target she could defeat. That’s smart. After all, as long as she kills one person, she would be allowed to not only safely get to the next round, but even leave the competition with credits in her pocket.’

“| Match Start, |” the announcer said as the mind-controlled man suddenly shook his head awake and paled when he found himself on the hanging arena with Rita smirking across the platform.

* * *

Within a private room located near the top of the Arena, a corpulent middle-aged man was sitting on a leather couch, twirling a glass of wine whilst groping a woman sitting at his side.

“Oh? We have a stalemate breaker this week,” he commented whilst watching Rita jump on stage through several monitoring screens. “Hehehe, she’s quite a specimen too,” he cackled perversely and waved at the butler standing behind him. “Hey, Oslort, who’s that woman?”

“Rita Ross,” the servant replied immediately as if he knew everything about her already. “She is a decently strong Fifth Ascent. Until a few weeks ago, she was part of a Guild called Orion, but it was attacked by a rival and subsequently destroyed. Some of their members were sold to us, including her little brother. If I had to guess, she is here to earn him back.”

“Hahaha, good! Makes it easier to blackmail her,” the man said gleefully and the woman that was in his arms secretly made an expression full of hate. “Prepare it for later.”

“Understood, Lord Bora,” Oslort replied formally and wrote a few things on a paper note before giving it to one of the maids in the room. She bowed and exited the room with the note.

“Zasha,” the fat man, now identified as Kratos’ leader, Bora Quaso, spoke and turned to a tall figure leaning quietly in a corner.

The unknown man had dark skin with purplish scaly-looking skin near his neck and his hair was uncannily sharp looking; enough so that a strand felt as if it would be able to draw blood. He wore a pair of sunglasses that fully hid his eyes and an attire that could pass him off as a gentleman from the 80s London.

“Do you see anyone worth my time down there?” Bora asked and the clearly inhuman being faintly observed the feedback of the cameras from across the arena.

He noted a few people worth citing, such as a large man with bluish skin, sharp teeth, and fish fins, which labeled him as a shark therianthrope. Another was a dark elf carrying himself gloomily and emotionlessly. Plus a few others.

But when Zasha’s eyes fell on a certain woman, evidently beautiful by her silhouette alone, with a strange armor and an eerie mask, he trembled subconsciously. Something felt off… Despite him looking at her through a screen, there was an abnormal sense of oppression.

It only cemented that idea when the masked woman turned her head to gaze right into the camera that was filming her. “Her,” Zasha promptly spoke up, his voice sounding gruff, and pointed at the screen, where she had already retrieved her gaze.

“Hoho!? What a wonderful body!” Bora grinned and licked his lips as his eyes scanned the image on the screen. “Zoom in!” He ordered and the camera focused solely on her. “Yes… she’s absolutely perfect! I wonder what her face looks like. If it is anywhere near her figure… Oslort!”

The butler furrowed his eyebrows slightly at the call, “Ranka Valcroft. Identity Unknown. She was screened yesterday and is a Host with an S-Rank Potential Value. She came together with a man called Chris Andersen. When asked, she stated her reason for coming to Zero was to kill someone.”

Bora raised an eyebrow. “What? That’s it? Who’s the idiot who assessed her?”

“Undertaker, Sir.”

The fat man immediately changed expressions. “That fucker, of course. He didn’t even ask her who she was targeting and just let her in. Tch, that’s why I said we shouldn’t hire him…”

“He has nonetheless forwarded her face as required,” the butler continued as he ignored his boss’ complaints. “Would you like to see it?”

“No, that would spoil the surprise,” Bora smirked. “I want her to lose her mask in battle and have it revealed on the most perfect of stages… Zasha, you confirm she can pass the first two rounds?”

“Undoubtedly,” the man answered confidently.

“Good! Then, on the third, pit her against the strongest fighter and tell him to destroy her mask in exchange for half a million credits. I can’t wait to see her defeated form… then I’ll pull her out and break her myself.”

Everyone in the room sighed internally as a common thought rang through their mind, ‘Pig.’

Only Zasha kept staring at the image of the masked woman, two bright red dots peering through the black lenses of his glasses. Somehow, he knew this would not go down as Bora expected.

* * *

Rakna frowned at the gaze he was feeling. He was already aware of the cameras monitoring the place thanks to Eye of Symphony. In fact, he could watch their feedback at any moment and when he saw how one of them zoomed up on him, he clicked his tongue.

‘Should’ve never humored Kaelith and Higure. Now I’m too conspicuous,’ he thought.

“{What, don’t you feel flattered?}” Fray asked mirthfully.

‘Shut up,’ Rakna snapped back and observed as Rita drew a pair of daggers before dashing at her opponent. The latter reacted fairly well considering he had been mentally manipulated into being there. He pulled out his mace and swung it at the approaching woman.

Rita dodged the blow with noteworthy agility and flanked him past his blind spot. The man’s eyes widened in shock right before a blade pierced through his neck. Blood filled up his throat and he gargled before collapsing dead.

The battle had been conducted without either side escalating anything. No ability or skill cast at all; a simple head-on confrontation that ended in less than three seconds.

‘Decent speed,’ Rakna commented internally as Rita seemingly activated her skill again. He noticed a faint sigil appear on the back of a random participant and before the announcement for her win had even rung, another challenger stepped up, once again in a daze.

“{Indeed, her speed right then felt like a 90,}” Fray remarked. “{Considering most Hosts don’t have a method anywhere near as formidable as yours to raise their ‘root attributes’, that is quite an impressive amount.}”

Rakna wordlessly agreed and squinted his eyes as he saw Rita gather a small amount of mana into her daggers. Her opponent also unleashed his limited mana whilst gritting his teeth, but compared to her, his panic made him use a much larger amount.

An explosion of raw energy erupted in the arena and momentarily covered the view until a figure flew out of the smoke. The unconscious man dropped to the floor with a stab through his heart.

‘Fighting with pure mana, huh?’ Rakna thought. ‘No magic involved at all and since there’s no ‘World’ like Nyx said, you need to use disproportionate amounts of it for the effect desired. Perhaps I can use it to substitute the use of Internal Energy using Ripple of Rupture. That would probably be the most cost-efficient way of using mana for me aside from Sonata’s perks...’

“{She’s doing it again,}” Fray interjected as another man vacuously jumped on the stage. “{While it is admittedly a smart way to ensure your battles are under your control, I wonder why there is no one intervening? There are plenty of people here who could jump in first…}”

‘It’s in the rules,’ Rakna retorted. ‘After a fight, the winner can decide to continue or stay for the next challenger. After she won once, it was over; her plan succeeded. Now, every time she kills someone, even if someone that is not under her control steps up afterward, she can decide to step down in all validity. So… everyone lets her do as she wishes since she’s culling numbers.’

“{I see... How witty. That makes me curious, however. How effectively are the rules of this game enforced?}”

‘Who knows… they didn’t say it. Nor do I seem to be able to find info with my Eye. Maybe by force, threat of death, or even a ban from Plateau Zero. The thing is, Kratos has no need to threaten them with retribution. Setting rules is itself the warning; breaching them would be suicide as long as you are under Kratos’ territory.’

As he said that, Rita defeated her third opponent by overcharging one of her knives and throwing it at him, triggering a built-in self-destruction. Unfortunately, she had not come out unscathed; she had miscalculated his strength and was left with a gash across her shoulder made by a sword.

She clenched the wound in pain and frowned before jumping off the arena.

‘Looks like she’s finally done,’ Rakna commented. ‘Though, her expression distinctly shows that she’s not satisfied with the final result.’

“{Perhaps she was aiming for a greater number of points,}” Fray guessed. “{But she didn’t want to take the risk of fighting with an injury, which is sensible on her part. On the downside, if she is set on gathering more rewards… she will have to enter the next rounds.}”

‘Mhm,’ Rakna hummed in response and squinted his eyes as she approached his location. Behind her, someone had already replaced her in the arena. She had lit the fuse in this room and now, the mongers were all but happy to get their hands dirty; in the most literal of senses.

Rita slammed her back against the wall next to Rakna with a grunt. “Ah… that was an embarrassing display, wasn’t it?” She asked whilst looking forward, still pressuring her wound. “I had the luxury to choose my foes and take them by surprise, but I messed up after only three,” she said gloomily, not even sure herself what kind of answer she was expecting from the masked woman.

Mutely, Rakna stepped in front of her. “Don’t move,” he said succinctly and pried her hand off her shoulder before putting his own in the same place. With barely any effort on his part, hidden under his palm, some of his nanites detached from his flesh and filled the gap made by the wound.

When he pulled back, Rita blinked in shock as the pain had disappeared. She even tried to roll her shoulders and it was as good as new. Somehow, it even felt better. “How did you…?”

Rakna then returned to his spot against the wall and crossed his arms. “Nothing much. You could say I reconstructed your lost flesh and blood with a substitute material. Don’t worry, it’s a special kind of matter that will eventually replicate your physiology to perfection.”

Rita didn’t know what to say. That explanation had honestly gone over her head; not grasping the nature of what the ‘substitute material’ was supposed to be.

“As for your very much embarrassing display…” The words made her flinch. “Don’t beat yourself over doing your best.” But the next startled her.

“Eh?” She exclaimed dumbfounded.

“I don’t know for what reason you decided to participate in this thing,” Rakna began as he spared her a glance. “But I’m not daft enough not to notice you’re feeling down for having failed something you aimed for… as if you had let down someone.”

The auburn-haired woman opened and closed her mouth several times. In the end, she laughed in a helpless manner. “You’re a weird girl…” She muttered.

“…”

She chortled at the silence. “But thank you, I guess,” she said and none of them spoke further, the sounds of fighting echoing throughout the large spherical space of Arena Zero.