Capítulo 97: Start of Battle Royale [part 3]
**This chapter is only for readers 18+ and contains disturbing scenes. Please read it at your own risk.**
**The Beginning of the Battle Royale**
Silence fell like a deadly shroud over the arena, every whisper, every breath held in anticipation of the signal that would unleash hell.
The drums beat a steady, relentless rhythm that echoed in my chest like an ancient, almost primordial call.
The steel gates closed with a crash that echoed throughout the Colosseum, sealing us inside that circle of sand and death.
I knew there would be no turning back, no escape.
The only option was to survive, at any cost.
The other participants formed a circle, each with their eyes fixed on the opponents.
The ebony-skinned colossus stared at his prey with a fierce grin, while "Serpent" moved fluidly, as if already part of the shadow that enveloped him.
But I didn't focus on them.
I knew the real threat wouldn't come from open confrontation but from what lurked in the shadows, from those who would wait for the perfect moment to strike.
The drum rolled one last time, and then... silence.
A silence that lasted only a heartbeat but seemed to stretch into eternity.
Then, as if an invisible command had been given, the arena exploded into a frenzied ballet of blood and steel, where chaos began to unfold.
The colossus roared and charged forward, his mace crashing down with brutal force towards the first fighter who dared cross his path.
The sound of bones breaking was deafening, and blood sprayed onto the sand like rain, feeding the thirst of the crowd that screamed in ecstasy.
"Serpent" moved with impressive speed, his curved blades flashing through the air as he cut through opponents, leaving behind only shadows and lifeless bodies.
Every movement was precise, calculated, a deadly dance that both enchanted and terrified.
**The Deadly Dance of the Battle Royale**
Chaos erupted all around me, a whirlwind of blood and steel transforming the arena into a living hell.
Fighters clashed with primal ferocity, and the sandy ground quickly turned red.
The screams of pain and rage mixed with the roar of the crowd, which urged on every strike, every death, with an insatiable hunger for violence.
I moved cautiously, avoiding direct confrontations.
My mind worked quickly, analyzing every detail of the battlefield.
I knew that in a Battle Royale, strategy was everything.
I couldn't afford to throw myself into the fray without a plan.
I had to wait, observe, and strike at the right moment.
As I advanced along the perimeter of the arena, searching for a vantage point, my eyes scanned the movements of the others.
The colossus continued to carve a path with his mace, smashing anyone in his way with brutal force.
But his power, though devastating, made him predictable—a point I could exploit to my advantage.
On the other side, "Serpent" moved like a shadow, taking down the weakest with surgical precision.
But his methodical approach made him vulnerable to a swift and unexpected attack.
I kept to the shadows, my body cloaked in black, iridescent armor that barely reflected the green flames around me.
My sword, still hanging at my side, was ready to be unleashed, but I knew I had to wait for the right moment.
In a battle like this, patience was a weapon as deadly as a sharp blade.
Suddenly, I sensed a rapid movement behind me.
A whisper in the air, an almost imperceptible shift in pressure.
I turned just in time to see another participant charging towards me, his eyes fixed on me with an expression of pure determination.
He wielded a long spear, its sharp tip gleaming with a sinister light.
With a fluid movement, I sidestepped, dodging the blow with agility that contrasted with the apparent heaviness of my armor.
The spear struck empty air, sinking into the sand with a dull thud.
Without missing a beat, the fighter tried to recover his weapon, but I was already in motion.
My hand closed around the hilt of my sword, and in an instant, I drew it from its sheath.
The black blade hissed through the air as I raised it, ready to strike.
The participant before me lifted his spear to defend himself, but his movement was slow, too slow.
With a swift strike, my sword met the spear, slicing it in two with ease.
The man's eyes widened in surprise, a strangled cry escaped his lips as he desperately tried to retreat.
But I didn't give him the time to react.
That wasn't enough. Immediate victory, without suffering, was hollow.
I approached him, a twisted smile spreading across my face, revealing sharp, irregular teeth.
With brutal speed, I grabbed his wrist with a steel grip, feeling the bones crack under my hold.
The man screamed, a sound lost in the chaos of battle, but I didn't loosen my grip.
Instead, I squeezed even tighter as my blade approached his side.
Not to finish him quickly, but to inflict a slow, painful wound. I wanted him to feel every moment of his agony.
The sword sank into flesh, and his scream turned into a desperate gasp.
The man's eyes filled with terror, the realization of his impending death reflected in his gaze.
I calmly withdrew the blade, blood gushing from the wound.
But it wasn't over yet.
I let him fall to the ground, his body trembling as he tried to crawl away.
My foot came down on his back, pinning him in place as I leaned over him.
With calculated slowness, I slid the sword under his chin, lifting him slightly off the ground.
"There is no mercy in this arena," I whispered, my voice a low, menacing growl.
"Only pain... and death, and you will serve as a reminder of that."
With a swift motion, the blade slashed through his throat, severing the last thread of his life.
His body slumped, lifeless, as blood soaked the sand beneath us.
I paused for a moment, my breath just slightly quickened.
I felt myself growing stronger, my body's vitality increasing with my innate ability to "Steal" and with the dark power I gained after devouring the core of that beast, now starting to react.
The crowd roared, their enthusiasm pouring over me like a wave of energy.
But I didn't let myself get distracted; I knew this was only the beginning.
Every death, every strike, was just a step toward the inevitable climax.
I had to keep moving, calculating every move.
I was in my element, but the arena was still full of opponents, and each one had to be crushed.
As the drums continued to beat, marking the rhythm of the massacre, I moved again, trying to get closer to the center of the arena.
Every fiber of my being was tense, every sense heightened.
I wouldn't let anyone stop me.
I was here to win, to survive... to dominate.
The battle was in full swing, but Ragnarok was only beginning.
And I would be the last one standing.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder