Under the smothering, stifling heat of the sun, crowds filled the empire's coliseum, cheers ringing loud.
The excitement was palpable in the air as some waved food in their hands, fists pumping as eyes shone with mad lust and hunger for bloody entertainment.
On a platform designed specially for commentators, a lanky individual stood, eyes glinting with excitement. In his grasp was what seemed to be a microphone.
"WHO IS EXCITED FOR THE LONG-AWAITED MULTIRACIAL BATTLE ROOOOOYAAAALLLL!"
ROOOAAARRRRR!
"THE EMPIRE WENT ALL OUT TO GIVE US PREMIUM ENTERTAINMENT, AS TODAY WE WILL BE WITNESSING A BEING OF A RARE LINE..."
ROOOAAARRRRR!
"EVERYONE, WE HAVE BEFORE US TODAY A PUUUUURRRRE BLOOOODED DEMOOOOOOOON!"
The heavens and earth trembled before their cheers as the platform holding the creature rose from the ground.
A humanoid figure appeared—skin ashen grey, eyes ocean black with entrancing midnight amethyst pupils. Its hair was rough grey, and on its back were two magnificent feathery wings. The creature stood at a staggering 7.1 feet in height, a small giant among humans.
The cheers grew more frenzied at the sight, spectators throwing trash and food at the creature.
"AND LIKE ALL PREVIOUS MULTIRACIAL BATTLE ROYAAAL, WE HAVE DOMINATORS FROM THE FEARSOME BEASTMEN RACE!"
Another platform rose, revealing a red-furred werewolf, hulking in proportion, its pitch-black claws scraping against blood-soaked soil as it howled.
"AND THERE IS A MEMBER OF THE INFAMOUS RACE—THEEEE GREEEEY TITAAAANS!!!"
A towering humanoid emerged, scaling at least 8.5 feet. Its skin was leathery grey, pupils pulsing green.
ROOOAAARRRRR!
The people cheered—the deadlier the race, the higher their fervor.
"OH? LOOK OVER THERE, BEING LED INTO THE BLOODY FIELDS OF DEATH—A MEMBER OF THE BLOODY GLYPH ORC IN THE FLEEEEESHHHHH!!!"
A hulking creature entered, body covered with writhing blood-red tattoo-like diagrams. Bald, with two yellow tusks protruding upward from its mouth, it was shackled until the gate behind it closed. Then the mythril chains snapped loose, setting the beast free.
"AND THAT'S IT, FOLKS! THESE ARE THE CONTESTANTS OF TODAY'S BATTLE ROYALE! NOW, WITHIN MINUTES, EVERYONE WILL GET A CHANCE TO DONATE A GOOD SUM TO PURCHASE GEAR AND WEAPONS FOR THEIR FAVOURED PLAYER... AFTER THAT, ALL BETS WILL BE PLACED AND THE BATTLE WILL COMMENCE. WHO'S READDDDDY!"
YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The crowd quickly got busy, tussling to donate for their chosen champions—the ones they would bet on.
It was a brilliant way to let the audience increase the probability of their chosen player's victory. A strategy by the empire that kept money flowing: only 20% of donations went to battle slaves' gear, the rest lining the pockets of the higher-ups. They even manipulated victors by giving good weapons to some and trash to others.
And in today's case, they targeted the royal-blooded demon. Most nobles wanted it dead. Out of hundreds of silvers pooled, all it received was a mere steel dagger.
Meanwhile, the werewolf got full body armor, the Grey Titan a mountain-cleaving axe, and the Bloody Glyph Orc a skull-crushing mace.
Drums rolled as spectators cheered—the battle was about to begin.
Gray glanced at the stark contrast between what was in his hands and what his bloodthirsty opponents held.
The small steel dagger was too tiny to fit his grasp.
He grimaced. "As though things couldn't get worse... No wonder the owner of this body committed suicide before ascending to the surface. They knew they'd end up dead regardless."
From the memories of this body, Gray had basic information about this world. It was a plane called Vertia.
A world where the children of darkness and light clashed. Humans, as children of light, hated demons—the spawns of darkness—to the bone.
Constant wars raged between the two races, mostly ending in human victory. As a result, 60% of slaves across human lands were demons.
Normally, if Gray had belonged to another demon family branch, he might have had a better chance at life. But he was of the royal demon line—the line all Demon Kings spawned from.
Beings known as one of the races with the greatest potential in all Vertia. And because of that, if caught by humans, they were put in certain-death scenarios.
Like his.
His fists clenched, teeth grinding. Too bad—he didn't plan on dying again anytime soon.
Due to death, this body had lost all accomplishments in demonic energy. All had dispersed.
So he couldn't tap into supernatural power—not yet.
Meaning he had to rely on brain and brawn alone.
He took time to inspect his opponent in the distance, from the bloody build of the Werewolf, to the mystic pressure of the bloody glyph orge.
But the most threatening looking of all was the one not that far away from him.
The Grey Titan, it's trained it's oppressive predatory gaze on him.
A shover crept of Gray's spine, his heart racing he quickly judged.
"Fuck this... I actually might die... Again!"
His teeth gashed his face squeezing in distraught.
"Why is my case like this tho... Those hateful bastards had a more gleeful welcoming than mine."
Smell of blood and metal ride the wind into his lungs, as got ready.
Boom!
The drum signaling the start of battle rang.
"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Fists pumping, spectators cheered as battle slaves moved into motion.
The writhing glyphs around the orc's frame glowed as it rotated its mace, lunging at the nearest opponent—the werewolf.
Claws clashed against the swung mace, neither side yielding, both flung backward. From there, their brutal, gritty battle commenced.
Meanwhile, before Gray, a hulking mass of muscle advanced, ground trembling at each step.
The sharp edge of the mountain-cleaving axe dragged through the soil as the Grey Titan approached.
Gray's demonic heart thudded heavily, wings flapping.
He decided to take initiative. His figure soared through the air, streaking toward the Titan at unnatural speed, fist clenched with the dagger's edge jutting between his fingers.
It was ethereal—flying came as naturally as breathing. He held total control of the wings, adjusting acceleration, height, even using steel-like feathers as potential weapons.
Roaaaaaar!
Saliva spilled from the Titan's mouth as it roared, muscles bulging, axe rising. Its feet dug into the ground for stability as the weapon descended in a cleave that threatened to split a mountain.
The blade's edge loomed above Gray.
"Damn this... I really am fucked."