Using this opportunity, I moved.
The axe slammed down into the sand with a heavy crunch, missing me by inches.
Dust exploded.
I twisted, driven by adrenaline, and slashed toward his ribs with a wide arc.
The sword scraped his flesh. The cut was shallow, but it drew blood.
"Wha—"
The crowd roared. Not for me—but in surprise.
The burly man staggered back a step, his eyes narrowing in surprise.
I bet he must be thinking how I dodged.
"Well... You don't about my Omniscient Viewpoint, do you?" I chuckled inwardly, finally getting some confidence.
"That's it runt!" he spat, lifting his axe again.
But I wasn't the same as five seconds ago.
I could feel something inside me shifting. Like some invisible gear clicking into motion.
I had information. Knowledge. Cheats.
Even if I was weak now, I knew how the strong survived.
"If this is the start of the story... then I'll write it in my name."
He lunged again, his axe slicing the air in a brutal sweep.
Too wide.
I ducked low and slashed at his thigh. A clean hit this time.
He groaned, wobbling for a second.
As time passed, his movements were growing sloppy.
I wasn't winning through strength.
I was surviving through foresight.
Although I managed to dodge the fatal blows, shallow cuts grazed across my skin—each one burning like fire.
"You're.. unbelievable, runt!" Hercules growled between ragged breaths, kneeling on the ground, utterly exhausted.
Yet... no one called the match.
No signal of victory. No announcement of a draw.
That's when it hit me: the match would only end when one of us was dead.
So I froze.
Defending myself was one thing. But killing a living breathing human?
The very thought made my stomach churn.
Just imagining it felt sickening.
"What are you hesitating for, runt?" he barked, lifting his gaze defiantly. "I don't need your pity. Kill me now!"
"Yes, kill him!"
"Kill!"
"Make him bleed!"
The crowd, once hostile, now roared in bloodthirsty support.
But my hands trembled and my feet refused to move. The blade hovered inches from his throat—and still, I couldn't bring myself to strike.
Only now did I truly understand.
These fantastical worlds I once yearned for… they weren't just about power, women, or fame.
They were about survival, ruthlessness, amd Cruelty.
And the courage it took for each "Protagonist" to abandon human morality... was far beyond what I had imagined.
But now—
I had to make that choice.
I had to cross that line.
"Today, I will be that protagonist!"
So, I moved... and raised my sword high.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, Hercules lunged at me, springing like a beast. His hand thrust forward, revealing a short knife hidden under his sleeve.
"Amateur!" he roared mid-air, eyes blazing with desperate hunger for victory.
But I wasn't the same helpless fool anymore.
With my Trait still active, his intention was already laid bare. I saw the tension in his wrist, the flicker of deception in his eyes, the concealed knife's path.
I was ready.
I dropped low and drove my steel sword upward.
Puchi!
The blade tore through his abdomen and a hot spray of blood erupted, splattering across my face.
The metallic stench filled my nose. Warm droplets streaked down my cheeks and chin. His wide eyes reflected disbelief, horror... and fear.
He coughed, blood foaming at the corners of his lips.
Then his body crumpled to the ground with a dull thud.
For a moment, I just stood there in silence.
Then I felt Goosebumps crawled across my skin as I stared at the lifeless body crumpled before me.
I had done it. I killed someone.
But instead of feeling victorious, my stomach twisted with guilt. A heavy weight sank into my chest.
"Clang!"
The sword slipped from my hand and clanged against the blood-soaked ground.
Why… why does this feel so wrong?
Around me, the crowd erupted. A storm of noise.
Some screamed in wild excitement, drunk on bloodlust. Others cursed in disappointment, furious at losing their bets. Their voices blended into a deafening roar, one that made my very existence feel like a speck beneath a tidal wave.
[ Congratulations! You have avoided a death flag and chage the course of fate by a little ]
[ +15 Luck Points ]
[ Luck Points: 20 ]
"Luck points? What do they do?"
I asked internally, but like the usual the system didn't answer me.
Then—clank.
A section of the Metal wall groaned and slid down, revealing a narrow exit passage lit by flickering torches.
The signal that I survived.
Heart racing, I stumbled toward the opening. My legs, heavy with fatigue and dread, moved on instinct. I didn't dare look back. I feared the gate might shut again. That I'd be dragged back into the madness again.
And then suddenly... I saw him.
Beyond the steel bars at the passage's end, leaning casually against the stone wall with a glint of annoyance in his violet eyes.
Silver-white hair.
That effortless charisma. That proud, noble posture.
I didn't need anyone to tell me who he was.
The protagonist: Archon Ashborne.
The Heaven-blessed, plot-armored main character of this world.
In that instant, it all clicked.
I wasn't even a rival or sidekick.
I was... him. The disposable extra. The nameless sword slave who died before the protagonist's match. The one whose corpse was meant to set the tone for the next glorious battle.
A faceless stepping stone.
But not anymore. Not today.
Because now, I was still breathing. Still walking.
And fate had already made its first mistake.
I glanced at his face, envy twisting in my gut.
So perfect...
His silver-white hair shimmered under the arena's torches. His features were sharp, elegant, almost ethereal.
What? You think appearance don't matter? No, it matters. If I had his looks, by now I'd have already become a boy toy of some rich lady.
It's not just about his looks. Not a speck of doubt or fear tainted his expression. Just calm, confident boredom. Like this world owed him victory.
He didn't even spare me a glance.
Why would he?
I probably looked like trash as I was filthy, bruised, blood-splattered. My skin stung with cuts, and my limbs still trembled from the fight.
He passed me without a word, without a thought.
Archon Ashborne: the world's darling.
He walked into the arena like it belonged to him. And maybe it did.
I stopped there, just beyond the gate, hidden in the shadows. I should've kept moving, but something rooted me in place.
Curiosity? Spite? Or maybe I just wanted to see him bleed. To prove he wasn't untouchable.
I already knew the outcome of the fight. I had read this chapter before. He'd win, of course. Decisively.
The crowd would chant his name, and the world would celebrate another destined step toward greatness.
Still... I wanted to see it with my own eyes.
To see if fate was as absolute as the story written.