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Meanwhile, in the waiting rooms beneath the arena, Damien lay sprawled out on the small cot inside his assigned chamber. Earlier, the place had been packed — ten, sometimes twelve people per room. But with the tournament's brutal first round over, most rooms were empty now. Even Welf had been granted his own quarters.
The silence was almost eerie. The roar of the crowd above was nothing but a dull hum through the stone walls.
Damien sighed, staring at the faint blue light of his system window."No level ups, huh…? I suppose defeat isn't as good as killing…" He frowned, turning his head slightly. "This system's ruthless. Wants me to kill everything, huh? Damn."
As if to answer him, the air shimmered — and a new message appeared before his eyes in glaring red:
[Emergency Quest: Survive]
Damien blinked. "Survive what—?"
The question barely left his lips before his Mind's Eye flared like a siren in his skull. Instinct took over. He rolled off the bed just as a blade whistled through the air, stabbing into the mattress where his head had been a second earlier.
He looked up — and froze.
Standing there was a beautiful caramel-skinned woman, her toned body wrapped in revealing, amazonian-like armor. Her eyes were sharp, cold, and utterly focused on him — like a predator eyeing prey.
"What the fuck—?" Damien hissed, only for his senses to spike again. The door creaked open, and two bare-chested men with matching skin tones stepped in, curved scimitars glinting in their hands.
He straightened slightly, eyes narrowing. "This… isn't part of the tournament… is it?"
One of the men answered without words — lunging forward, blade flashing toward Damien's neck.
He ducked under it in a single fluid motion, hands already moving. His twin daggers materialized in a burst of faint light, and before the attacker could recover, Damien's blade sliced cleanly across the man's throat.
Blood spattered across the wall. The body dropped.
Damien exhaled slowly, turning toward the other two with a cold smirk.
"Well…" he said, sliding into stance, eyes narrowing as the woman's expression darkened. "You guys asked for this."
The dim light of the underground corridors flickered — the smell of blood and dust already thick in the air.Damien's pulse thundered in his ears as the corpse of the first assassin hit the floor. His daggers — his real daggers — gleamed with a faint black sheen, the familiar hum of power throbbing through the steel.
Then he felt it.A presence — no, multiple.
Bootsteps. Confident. Dozens.
He turned his head slightly. From the shadows of the long hallway, they emerged — men and women wearing revealing, jewel-studded armor that glittered even in the poor light.
And at their front… her.
Caramel skin glistened with sweat, her red eyes fierce and deadly. She carried twin scimitars curved like fangs, and her aura screamed danger. Damien recognized her instantly — the third place from the tournament's ranking board.
"Samira…" he muttered, blades tightening in his hands.
A slow, sultry grin stretched across her lips. "So you do know who I am. Good. Then you'll understand when I say — this isn't personal, darling."
Before he could respond, another voice joined in — sharp, commanding, familiar.
"That's enough, Samira. Don't kill him."
From the far side stepped a tall woman with long, black hair tied in a high ponytail, wearing little more than combat wraps and a confident smirk. Her tone was calm, but her eyes held respect — and a faint trace of pity.
"Aisha…" Damien whispered, recognizing her from the Anime
Behind them, a dozen men and women emerged — mostly level twos, some ones. But towering behind all of them was a man with crimson eyes and dark brown hair tied in a braid. He was bare chested, his muscles like sculpted stone.
Tammuz.
Vice Captain of the Ishtar Familia. Level 4. And by far the most dangerous person here.
"You've caused quite the stir, boy," said Tammuz, his deep voice echoing in the corridor. "Lady Ishtar wants you alive. You can come quietly… or not at all."
Damien chuckled, low and sharp. "You people sure have a weird way of asking someone to join your Familia."
Aisha sighed. "We're trying to help you. If you join us, you'll have power, protection — you'll never have to fight alone again. You're strong, but without a god, you'll hit a wall eventually. So stop this."
Her words had weight — a hint of genuine care.
But Damien just smirked, lowering his stance. "Tempting offer… but I don't take orders from anyone. Especially not someone who sends assassins to my bed."
And then he moved.
A blur of motion.
Daggers flashed — one, two, three men fell before anyone could react, throats opened, blood spraying across the walls. Samira leapt forward with a cry, her twin scimitars crashing against Damien's daggers. Sparks flew as she pressed him back.
Her strikes were elegant and fast, her movements deadly precise. Damien barely managed to block one slash, ducking under another, then pivoted low and kicked her ankle — but she backflipped away effortlessly.
"Not bad," she hissed.
Two more level twos charged from behind. Damien spun, slit one's throat, slammed a dagger into the second's chest, then rolled as Aisha's curved blade came down where he stood.
Clang!
"Persistent, aren't you?" Damien grunted, twisting his blade to parry her next attack. Her strikes were powerful — enough to shake his bones.
He was good.They were better.
And then — Tammuz entered the fray.
The ground shook with his steps. His sword was massive — nearly as tall as Damien himself. The first swing came like thunder. Damien blocked — barely — and the impact sent him flying into a stone wall.
He coughed, tasting iron.
'Damn it… This is bad. Aisha and Samira alone are trouble. Add a Level 4… and I'm screwed.'
He dropped low, letting his Mind's Eye activate — the world slowed, every movement, every breath becoming clear. He predicted Samira's incoming strike and twisted around it, countering with a slash that nicked her arm. She hissed but didn't slow down.
Then Tammuz's blade came again. Damien ducked, sparks flashing as the sword cut a line through the wall behind him.
Too many. Too fast.
He had no choice. He needed to move.
Damien triggered Quicksilver, his veins burning with energy. Speed surged through his body — 30% from the skill, another 10% from the grieves. His movements blurred, his outline fading.
He sprinted through the narrow corridor, slashing as he passed, cutting down two level twos before they even realized he'd moved. But they were endless — a swarm of bodies trying to block him from every side.
'Can't stay still. Need to move. Need to survive.'
Blood flew. Flesh tore. His chest burned from shallow cuts. His leg throbbed from a blade that grazed him. But he didn't stop.
Every step was a fight.Every heartbeat, a risk.
By the time he reached the stairwell, he was breathing hard, his jacket torn, his left arm bleeding. The crowd above still cheered, oblivious to the massacre happening beneath their feet.
And finally — at the top of the stairway — stood the exit. The heavy door leading to the colosseum floor.
Freedom.
But blocking it… were three silhouettes.
Aisha.Samira.And Tammuz.
Damien's chest rose and fell. His arms shook. His legs screamed.
Aisha's voice came again, softer this time. "Don't make us kill you, Damien. You've proven your worth. Just surrender."
He smirked, lifting his bloodied daggers. "Sorry… but I don't do surrender."
He dashed forward.
They all moved at once — Tammuz's sword, Aisha's blade, Samira's twin scimitars — all converging.
Damien's Mind's Eye burned, but something else kicked in — something deeper. Wolf's Instinct.
The world slowed.No — it stopped.
He saw it — every move, every swing, every strike — five seconds ahead.
"Perfect…" he whispered.
And then he acted.
He twisted between Aisha's swing and Samira's slash, both blades missing him by inches. His right dagger blocked Tammuz's sword mid-swing — the shock rippling through his arm — but his left dagger moved like lightning, slicing across Samira's chest and knocking her back.
Aisha lunged — he parried, grabbed her wrist, and used her momentum to spin her into Tammuz's next swing. Steel met steel, sparks exploded.
"Impossible!" Tammuz roared — only to take a kick straight to the gut.
Damien followed through, his full weight behind the strike. The massive man flew back — crashing through the door in an explosion of dust and splinters.
Tammuz swung his sword mid-fall, nearly cutting Damien open — but Damien deflected the attack just in time, twisting his dagger to knock the blade aside before plunging his other dagger deep into Tammuz's shoulder.
They both hit the ground — but Damien landed on his feet.
And when the dust cleared, the stunned roar of thousands filled the colosseum.
Bloodied, panting, daggers dripping red — Damien stood in the center of the arena, above the fallen body of Ishtar's Vice Captain.
Aisha and Samira froze at the shattered doorway, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"How…" Aisha whispered.
Damien looked up at the gods, the crowd, the stunned silence — and smirked.
"Sorry to crash the show…" he said, his voice low and rough. "But I had… some uninvited guests."
Tammuz kicked off Damien with brutal force, sending him skidding across the arena floor. He hit the stone hard, pain flaring through his ribs, breath knocked out of him — and Tammuz raised his sword to finish it.
But the arena erupted before the blow could fall.
Bodies launched from the stands like a landslide — Ganesha's children diving down first, followed by Loki's two prodigies. Ais landed with the grace of a blade and immediately leveled her sword at the Ishtar contingent. Beside her, Reviria moved with urgent calm, hands weaving soft sigils in the air; a warm, pale light flowed from her palms and wrapped around Damien, knitting torn flesh, knitting bone. His breathing steadied; the worst of the bleeding sealed.
Ottar was there in an instant as well — a living wall. He stepped between Tammuz and the fallen Damien and took the swing across his bare chest. The gigantic impact didn't even stagger Ottar, he simply planted his feet and held the blade back with his body, buying the time the arena needed.
"Looks like someone has no respect for the rules here… do they, Ishtar?" Ganesha's voice cut through the roar, cold and thunderous as he pointed toward Ishtar's VIP box.
Ishtar's face twisted. She sprang to her feet, crimson fury pouring from her like heat. "THAT'S A LIE! How do you know he wasn't the one who attacked us first?!" she screamed, voice cracking like a whip.
Ganesha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "A Falna-less boy started a fight with the entirety of the Ishtar Familia? And many of those people are not even registered participants in this tournament. You have brought shame on the arena, Ishtar."
"HOW DARE YOU! You think I would—?" Ishtar began, venom in every syllable.
"ENOUGH!" Freya's voice rang out from her stand with absolute authority. The sound froze the room. Loki beside her said nothing, but her smile was a razor as she regarded Ishtar.
Ishtar's furious color drained in a heartbeat. She looked past Ganesha to Freya and Loki — the two goddesses whose displeasure was far worse than any public rebuke. The heat of her wrath died. Pride and fury gave way to a curt, forced composure.
"Fine," she spat finally, grabbing at the remnants of dignity. "We withdraw from this tournament. And — Ganesha — I will send funds as an apology for this incident that my foolish children have caused." Her words were clipped, but the threat under them did not vanish; the withdrawal was a face-saving retreat, not repentance.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other story's ! Sukuna in DC! and Dragon Slayer in Marvel!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !