Scribe's face paled at Steven's words.
"Your way out?" he asked, his voice puzzled and strained.
Steven nodded calmly. "If everything plays out as planned, I'll be getting out of this hell."
Scribe was thrown back, losing more of his confidence than his words revealed. "Did I not tell you about the Champion? He's undefeatable. You should know that. Even with special magic, even with a special sword, you still can't win against it. You are essentially wishing for death."
Steven remained silent, a daring look fixed on his face that betrayed his thoughts. He wasn't giving up on his plan—not now, not when he had already reached his maximum physical strength and had little to nothing left to grow.
He couldn't stay here forever, fighting endless battles simply to entertain a sponsor who reveled in his suffering and downfall. To Steven, who had spent the past few days walking the thin line between life and death, dying was preferable to enduring even a few more weeks in this place.
Scribe, receiving no reply, snapped. "Have you gone mad?!"
"The unbearable hunger pangs, the foul stench, the gnawing hours with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company, the endless loop of fighting and returning to this hell…" Steven replied, his lips curling upward into a thin smile. "Yes, I have genuinely gone mad. Haven't I?"
{Your sponsor is amused at your hinging mind}
Steven frowned but gave no remarks.
Scribe couldn't help but smile at Steven's determination. "You never cease to puzzle me, Rat. First, you commit suicide and hang till death, yet you still come back. Then you give me all your rewards, and now you want to waste your life again? It's like there are two people living inside one body."
He paused, his smile twisting slightly. "I'm going to admit, I'll surely miss the rewards you give me."
Steven didn't reply. The only reason for Scribe's concern in the first place was the parts of the Sea Deity Steven handed over after every victory. The greedy bastard was merely trying to protect his free investments.
Steven tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out a slimy ball, holding it up for Scribe to see. "Let's make the exchange, so you'll stop bothering me."
Scribe opened his mouth, perhaps to oppose Steven's reckless plan, but hesitated. In the end, he kept silent. Reaching into his own pocket, he pulled out a finger chunk that belonged to Ark'shaRin and tossed it toward Steven.
Steven caught the finger mid-air and threw the slimy ball to Scribe. The despicable man used both hands to catch it before immediately shoving it into his mouth, chewing with a face filled with indescribable joy.
Now holding the finger, Steven possessed the final piece of his escape plan. He tightened his grip around it for a moment, feeling its cold texture, before tucking it back into his pocket.
"Now, for some food," he said, opening the Dimension Shop and scrolling to the food section. At the sheer variety displayed before him, his mouth watered. Many of the dishes were recognizable from the human world, while others looked completely alien.
Without wasting time, he picked one at random.
{Bowl of Porridge}
{Description: Normal food}
{Price: 1 Undead Core}
After purchasing it, a wooden bowl filled with hot, steaming porridge appeared on his lap. The aroma alone overwhelmed the foul stench of the cage within seconds.
Scribe's eyes widened at the sight and smell of the porridge, lust glinting openly across his face. Still, he restrained himself, knowing that if he tried coercing Steven into sharing, the young man might very well end his life without hesitation.
"Damn it," he muttered, moving to the opposite side of the cage and doing his best to avoid the scent.
Steven didn't care. His attention was fully locked onto the food before him.
Grasping the spoon that had appeared with the bowl, he scooped up a small amount of the yam porridge and brought it to his mouth.
The moment it touched his tongue, it trembled. His face reddened in disbelief.
Real food.
Steven chewed slowly, deliberately, savoring every fragment of flavor before swallowing.
It felt magical—strange, yet deeply intimate.
For Steven, this was the first proper meal he had eaten in weeks. For his current body, it might have been decades.
So he took his time, spoon by spoon, chewing slowly before swallowing each mouthful.
After a few spoons, clarity finally returned to his mind. His thoughts sharpened, his focus settling once more on his plan to escape the Colosseum and the Realm of Entry.
However things would play out, he would soon find out.
Whether Fate would allow him to escape this horrid realm—or condemn him to the worst death imaginable—remained to be seen.
//Author's note//
Thanks for the support please keep supporting. Let's get to 20+ fans