☠️ All Men are Mortal ☠️
Chapter 60 — The Underdog
...
In every sense, Socrates is supposed to be dead, but then he isn't—and that defies all logic.
What really happened?
At that moment… that final moment where Socrates was faced with the maker… where the searing heat of the energy attack was already kissing his forehead, his body reacted. This time, it was no longer his brain or mind in control, but his body—honed through years of relentless, punishing training.
It recognized the threat… the immense level of danger that could destroy it if it refused to act. And so, it hardened, compressing blood even further, forcefully activating his nervous system.
The nervous system recognized the heat—heat that felt different, yet strangely familiar. Within that single second, the heat spread through every part of his body, racing through veins and fibers before bursting outward—
STEAM BURST!
EXPLOSION!
Socrates didn't run or even try to dodge. His body simply carried him from one location to another right before the explosion, moving on pure instinct, faster than conscious thought could ever react.
And while Elder Fotio stood there, celebrating his victory with exhausted satisfaction… Socrates was already behind him, his body surging with orange electric steam that crackled and hissed like a living storm.
"I did it… I sent that fool to the afterlife…" Elder Fotio laughed out loud as his sword returned to his inventory, his energy fully spent.
The smoke still covered his view, thick and choking, as he waited for it to die down before stepping forward to witness the deep crater he had carved into the earth.
But that was it.
The only thing he saw… was the large crater.
His mouth fell open, confusion flickering across his face—but before his brain could process anything, his body reacted instinctively to the faint disturbance behind him.
He turned—
His eyes met a flying silhouette, its entire body wrapped in blazing orange steam that arced like electric bolts, gathering violently around a clenched fist.
"Steam Punch… Effect x100."
He heard the words—but the attack had already landed before he could even begin to move.
The fist of Socrates drove into his chest with brutal force, tearing through flesh and bone, bursting out from the other side in a spray of heat and blood. The impact sent Socrates himself skidding two meters away, his arm still extended forward—
—and in that hand… was the beating heart of Elder Fotio.
The Elder slowly turned, shock frozen on his face.
He couldn't believe it.
The silhouette he had glimpsed… was Socrates—the very man he had already declared dead.
And once again, he had seen the attack… but with his energy exhausted, his body refused to respond. He couldn't dodge.
The speed… was monstrous.
'A power that rivals the Foundation Establishment…'
"So… you've a trump card after all?" Elder Fotio pointed weakly at Socrates before his body gave in, collapsing into the very crater he had created. His fall echoed hollowly as his eyes remained wide open in disbelief… but the light within them had already faded.
The Elder of the Sky Pavilion was dead.
Killed by Socrates.
Socrates, on the other hand, stood there motionless, the steam around him gradually thinning. When the Elder's final words drifted into his ears, he turned slightly, his body trembling—not from exhaustion, but from disbelief.
'I… did kill an Elder… I thought I was a goner there… The effects of the power cores are still working…'
He checked his body, his thoughts drifting toward the bracelets wrapped tightly around his limbs.
Anger… resentment… foul thoughts—all of it surged through his mind like poison.
Had those bracelets not been restricting him, he wouldn't have been pushed to such a dangerous edge.
'What? So you think I'm a burden to you? You've truly forgotten how you got this strong in the first place?'
Lady Achillia's voice echoed coldly in his mind from the bracelet.
"Senior… since you were there, why didn't you help me activate the golden token's defensive mechanism? You claimed only a King Realm cultivator can activate it…" Socrates asked, his tone edged with restrained aggression.
'At what cost? At the expense of my own energy? How would I refill it? Or do you think I care if you die? If you had died back there… the bracelets would be released, and my treasures scattered for others to claim. They could help me with my mission. So yes—your death is more useful to me than your life.'
Her reply was sharp, indifferent.
The resentment in Socrates' heart deepened, tightening like a vice.
He wanted nothing more than to rip the bracelets off his wrists.
But it was impossible.
'I should go check the Elder's corpse…'
He took a step forward—
—and suddenly, his entire body convulsed violently. His muscles seized, his vision blurred, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious before he could even react.
. . .
<<3 days later — Unknown location>>
Splash! Splash!
Cold water slammed against his body in heavy waves, soaking through his clothes as chains clinked and rattled with each jolt. His body swayed weakly, suspended, but his eyes remained shut.
"Wake up, you damn bloody killer!"
TWAAH!
A heavy slap cracked across his face, the force snapping his head sideways and forcing his eyes open.
His blue eyes… dulled, unfocused, stared blankly at the man in front of him.
"Bring your gaze down, you fool—"
TWAAH!
Another slap landed, harsher than the first, sending his face whipping to the other side.
The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth. Socrates spat it out slowly, his senses dragging themselves back into place.
That was when realization hit him.
"Where… am I?"
He turned his gaze, taking in the dimly lit room. Two men stood before him—one close, one seated on what looked like a bed. Their eyes carried nothing but hostility.
The one nearest to him wore a sky-blue robe, while the other, seated calmly, was dressed in white.
"You've got guts to ask such questions after going on a killing spree… killing our potential gladiators…" the man in the sky-blue robe snarled, his voice thick with killing intent that pressed heavily against Socrates' skin.
"I didn't kill anyone… I was only defending myself…" Socrates managed, his voice hoarse.
"So we are fools? The entire Sky Pavilion and Heavenly Pavilion is a joke to you? I should kill you now and claim I'm only defending myself!"
The man ranted, his aura beginning to rise—
"That's enough, Enios."
The calm voice of the seated man cut through the tension.
The white-robed man stood, and instantly, the other fell silent, retreating a step.
"Forgive my partner, Mr. Trueblood. He is only concerned about the death of his friend… whom you killed three days ago. They were both Elders of the Sky Pavilion."
His tone was calm—too calm.
But Socrates could feel it.
Beneath that calm… was something far more dangerous.
"You see, no one hears of a friend's death without reacting. Under normal circumstances, what you did warrants immediate execution. While killing a disciple may go unpunished, killing an Elder is different. Challenging an Elder is no different from challenging the Council itself…"
He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, his breath faintly carrying the scent of Sky Drum water.
"Pardon my manners. I am Hestruin. You may call me Elder Hest. We have investigated you… and everything about you is… irregular. Your survival on Bermutha Island… your escape from the mountains… defeating an Elder without being a cultivator… Don't you think it would be a waste to kill such a… mysterious individual?"
He leaned closer.
Socrates' heart pounded violently.
'They're from the Northern Gladiator Guild… Is he an Elder of the Heavenly Pavilion?'
Just standing before them, he felt insignificant.
Powerless.
His life—his very existence—rested entirely in their hands.
They could end him at any moment.
And he could do nothing about it.
"The Council of Elders has decided that while you will not go unpunished, they will not execute you outright. Your destiny shall be left in your own hands… Your blade of execution shall be wielded by you. Whether you are cut down by it, or you use it to cut another… will depend entirely on you."
Elder Hest's voice flowed smoothly, each word deliberate, yet to Socrates, it all sounded distant—like something drifting at the edge of comprehension. Still, one thing was clear…
He wasn't dead.
Not yet.
'It seems I'm useful to them… that's why I'm still alive… What is it they want from me?'
"You see, beyond these walls lies the arena…" Elder Hest continued, turning slightly as though gesturing to something unseen. "Not just any arena… but the underground arena."
His tone shifted—subtle, but noticeable.
"A brutal place… A place soaked in blood. A place where survival is dictated by nothing but violence. A place where no true Gladiator willingly ventures…"
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as he spoke, his words painting images that clawed at the mind.
"A Gladiator fights for honor. They stand beneath the open sky, under the gaze of thousands, and clash like men of dignity."
A pause.
"But those beneath…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"They are not men."
"They are beasts."
A faint pressure rolled off him—just enough to make the chains around Socrates creak.
"They will do anything to win. Anything. Man, woman, beast—it makes no difference. There is no surrender. No mercy. Every battle ends in death."
The dim light flickered, casting shifting shadows along the walls.
"The life and death of a person is wagered like coin. It is a den of gambling… a pit where humanity is stripped away."
He turned fully now, his gaze locking onto Socrates like iron.
"And that… is where the Council has decided to send you."
Silence followed.
Thick.
Oppressive.
"The underground world. Where you will fight for your survival. No one cares about realms… no one cares about tiers… no one cares about honor. The only thing that matters… is victory."
A single step closer.
"If you refuse—you die here."
Another step.
"If you accept—you descend immediately."
His voice dropped, quieter now—but sharper.
"Everything you earn belongs to the Guild. And every ounce of shame you gather… belongs to you… and your entire family."
Then—
"Socrates Trueblood… younger brother to Laurel Academy's school belle… Amelia Trueblood…"
The name struck like a blade.
"Do you dare… accept being an Underdog?"
For a moment—just a moment—Socrates almost refused.
What they were offering…
No.
What they were condemning him to…
It was worse than death.
He had heard the stories.
The underground wasn't a place people survived.
It was a place they disappeared.
But then—
His eyes changed.
At the mention of his sister… something reignited within them. A spark. A defiance that hadn't been there seconds ago.
"What… happened to my sister?"
The question came out immediately—sharp, steady, without fear.
Even he didn't hesitate.
The same man who moments ago couldn't even face their presence… now stared directly at them.
"Be calm. She is doing quite well… for now."
Elder Hest turned his back as he spoke, as though the matter was trivial.
But Socrates understood.
Perfectly.
That "for now" wasn't reassurance.
It was leverage.
A silent threat.
Slowly… Socrates raised his head.
The chains rattled faintly as his posture straightened.
"I accept…"
No hesitation.
No doubt.
"I accept to be an UNDERDOG."
Elder Hestruin stopped mid-step.
Then—
A smile crept onto his face.
He turned slightly toward Enios.
"What are you waiting for?" he said, amusement lacing his tone. "Release him… and throw him into the underground. I can't wait to see how far he goes…"
His laughter burst out—loud, unrestrained, echoing violently through the room.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA—!"
The sheer force of it carried his aura outward in a brief, uncontrolled surge—
BANG!
The walls trembled as the pressure exploded outward, dust shaking loose from the ceiling.
Enios stepped forward immediately, moving to unbind Socrates, the chains clattering heavily as they loosened.
Cold air brushed against Socrates' skin as the restraints fell away.
No relief came with it.
Only a deeper weight.
The path ahead had already been decided.
And it led downward.
Into darkness.
.
.
.
END OF ARC 2 — ALL DEBT REPAID.
..
..
..
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to say a very big thank you to all of you for supporting this book to this very moment. It's a dream for me reaching this milestone in this book. Please keep supporting me with everything you've got as we continue with the next arc.
RISE OF THE UNDERDOG
(This arc is where we witness the true world of the gladiator)