WIPE
Ali dragged his hand slowly across his face, smearing the thick, clotted blood in long crimson streaks. The warm liquid clung to his skin like wet glue, sticking to his eyebrows and dripping from his eyelashes. When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a red-tinted world, fogged and blurred by gore. His hair was now soaked in deep maroon, the ends tangled together and still dripping with the remnants of the exploded beast.
'I got carried away,' he thought, unfazed by the sticky, metallic scent enveloping his body.
Without hesitation, he reached into his inventory and summoned a massive barrel of water—cold, clean, and sealed tight. With a flick of his hand, the barrel levitated above him using the Force, the thick metal container spinning slightly in the air before the lid twisted open.
SPLASH
The downpour crashed onto his body, a cascade of water dousing him from head to toe. Blood splashed off his skin and onto the sand, washing away the remains of the wolf as the clear water ran down his muscles in rivers. Steam rose briefly as the water met the warmth of his skin, and the arena shimmered with droplets catching the sun. When the barrel emptied, Ali shook his head droplets flying in arcs.
The instructor's mangled body finally dissolved into fading particles of blue light, her soul retreating from the arena in silence.
At the same time, a rumble began to rise from the crowd. It started small—just a few murmurs here and there—but then like a spark on dry grass, it spread through the stands like wildfire.
A deafening cheer exploded.
It had taken the players a full minute to process the brutality they had witnessed. But now that their minds had caught up, they erupted with applause, screaming in unison at what many already declared would be the legendary duel of the decade.
It wasn't a back-and-forth. It wasn't a technical battle of equals.
No.
It was a massacre, a masterpiece of controlled carnage, a ruthless display of dominance and precision that left everyone—rookies and veterans alike—awestruck.
No one would forget the sight of a majestic wolf, revered by one of the most powerful guilds in Paradise, swelling like a grotesque balloon before erupting in a shower of blood and sinew. It was burned into their minds forever.
"I can't believe he's the same person…" Jasmine whispered, her voice trembling as she sat back down. Her wide eyes stayed glued to Ali, watching him soak in the aftermath of what he'd done, looking not like a champion—but a walking nightmare.
Her thoughts drifted to the memory of dinner. Of his calm voice. His smirk. His humour. But now, all she could see was the man who stood soaked in a creature's entrails, looking like the butcher himself.
Rose remained silent, her expression grim. She turned her head and studied Evelyn, hoping for some kind of reaction—disgust, concern, regret—but saw none. Only that same cold calm.
"I'm the madam of the Death Guild," Evelyn said flatly, as though it explained everything. A black flame danced gently around her pinky finger, twisting in a delicate spiral like smoke. The insignia of the Death Guild shimmered faintly on the back of her neck, just barely visible beneath her flowing black hair. "What did you expect from my man?"
Up in the section belonging to the Beast Guild, the mood was drastically different. Rage and grief churned like a storm.
The players stood, fists trembling, lips clenched shut, eyes full of tears and fury. That woman had trained many of them. Some owed their very lives to her teachings. And now her defeat played on repeat in their minds, like a nightmare they couldn't wake from.
But amid the quiet fury stood one figure—still, composed, unaffected.
Crow.
The apostle of the guild, the girl with black eyes and an expressionless face. She stood calmly and turned toward the guild leader, her eyes as cold as polished stone.
"Do you think it's still worth it?" she asked without emotion.
The guild leader's jaw tensed. His cane, held tightly in his hand, began to shimmer with emerald light as green scales rippled across the wood like living armour. He inhaled sharply through his nose and then exhaled slowly, his rage calming as the scales disappeared.
'This kid's personality makes it hard sometimes…' he thought grimly, watching her turn and leave without a second glance. No one dared stop her. No one questioned her.
BOOM
Toto's voice cut through the noise, light-hearted as always. "Well! Unfortunately, it seems cowardice has taken hold of two more! Players ranked 6,500 and 6,000 have just forfeited! That means Ali climbs again—and will now fight for rank 5,500!"
A few disappointed groans followed, but most of the crowd leaned forward with excitement.
'Only two more,' Ali thought, his brow furrowed. The thick, congealed blood in his hair was now beginning to dry. He could feel it stiffen and stick, an irritating reminder of how badly he wanted a proper shower.
The door opened at the opposite end of the arena.
A small figure stepped out.
An average-looking Asian woman—late thirties, perhaps. She wore plain clothes with no armour and held no weapons. Her eyes remained closed, but a nervous, strangely calm smile played on her lips. Her hands were clasped together in front of her chest, and she walked with a quiet, humble grace.
Ali squinted. Her aura was off. She didn't seem like a fighter at all.
But he recognised her class from the look in the Beast Guild insignia on her clothing.
She was another summoner.
"I request a field change!" she shouted suddenly.
Ali raised an eyebrow.
"And what do you wish for?" Toto's voice responded from high above.
"Heavy forest!" she called out.
"Very well.", Toto responded and proceeded with the field change as Ali didn't object.
All at once, the sandy arena began to change.
The ground trembled as roots erupted from beneath the sand, coiling and twisting like serpents. Massive trees exploded from the earth, reaching toward the sky at breakneck speed. Branches cracked and stretched out, forming thick canopies of green.
Within seconds, the golden sand was gone.
In its place stood a dense, tangled forest, filled with shadows and sunlight pouring through gaps in the leaves. Ferns, vines, and brambles coated the ground. Birds and insects chirped faintly, artificially summoned as part of the transformation.
The change was breathtaking.
"3…2…1…Begin!" Toto called.
Ali stood at one end of the forest, completely surrounded by towering trees. He couldn't see anything beyond the trunks and foliage.
His opponent was gone.
At the far side of the forest, the woman knelt down slowly and placed both hands on the soft earth. The warm soil welcomed her, and the vegetation pulsed in response.
"Shadow Veil," she whispered.
A thick black wall surged upward five meters away from her. It flickered with dark energy, humming with power borrowed from the Shadow Guild.
But she wasn't done.
Her eyes fluttered open, revealing snake-like eyes. She whispered again:
"Snake Swarm."
The soil beneath her began to writhe.
Thousands—tens of thousands—of snakes erupted from the dirt. Cobras. Vipers. Boas. Albino serpents with glowing eyes. Some hissed clouds of poisonous mist. Others spat fire. Their bodies slithered over each other, a living river of death.
They passed through the shadow wall—and the moment they crossed, they disappeared into near invisibility. Coated with the power of the spell…
Now the forest was a nest of nightmares.
The woman didn't stop. She walked to the nearest tree and pressed her hand against the bark. Her skin shifted. Dark, brownish scales spread across her arms and cheeks. Her entire body adapted to the coloration of the tree until she vanished, camouflaged perfectly.
Her eyes closed.
She linked with the swarm.
She could see through their eyes. Slither through the leaves. Sense every vibration. She scanned through hundreds of perspectives at once, managing the impossible with trained precision, commanding her snakes to move, to wait, to strike.
BANG
Her body twitched.
Then dropped.
Her skull had exploded.
Her face, once serene, now lay shattered against the forest floor. Bits of her brain and bone littered the bark nearby. Her corpse slumped sideways—lifeless, eyes wide open in stunned silence.
The crowd gasped.
The screen shifted.
Ali stood just two trees away. Desert Eagle in hand, still lowered from the shot he had just fired.
He didn't blink.
Didn't smirk.
Didn't celebrate.
He simply stored his weapon back into his inventory and walked away, passing by the snakes—which faded into blue light, their connection to the dead severed.
"He's a monster…" whispered a middle-aged man, fiddling with his gloves. He was the leader of the Lightning Guild, and sweat coated his palms despite the cool air.
Beside him the lightning guild's apostle who's known as the most beautiful player on the entire second level had her eyes stuck on the screen and wouldn't turn away from Ali's expressionless and handsome face.
She wasn't infatuated with his looks but something else…It ran through her family's blood, passed from her father especially.
'I really want to fight him,' she thought as a thin crackle of white lightning zapped across her eyes.
Please donate some of your power stones, it would help my ff massively.
Five chapters ahead of webnovel on patreon.com/Rondo312