Chapter 137: Into the Arena
Solomon tightened his grip on the leather strap of Eden’s Penance. He eagerly scanned the lively room for the nearest descent. A massive iron gate guarded by two muscular bouncers marked the entrance to the basement arena.
Solomon walked straight toward the guards. "Lead the way. I need to hit something right now."
The two bouncers crossed their arms and completely blocked the iron gate. They glared down at Solomon’s first-year academy clothes and the oversized executioner’s sword strapped to his back.
"Entry to the underground arena requires a minimum wager deposit." The guard on the left tapped a thick finger against his own chest. "Novices usually lack the funds to cover the baseline bets. You should go back upstairs and buy a cheap drink."
Fortunately, Solomon reached into his trousers and pulled out the bulging pouch of silver coins he had looted from the underground syndicate. He tossed the sack directly into the bouncer’s chest. The guard scrambled to catch the unexpected mass, nearly dropping his clipboard in the process.
Solomon grinned and stepped past the stunned men. "I am betting all of that on myself. Make sure you log the wager correctly."
[1Fizzy: Solo Man flexing the stolen syndicate money.]
[Harty: the bouncer looks so confused.]
[Last_Fables: straight down to business.]
Marco shook his head and quickly followed the silver-haired boy down the winding stone ramp. The polished marble walls transitioned into rough-hewn rock as they descended deeper into the earth. The muffled sounds of stringed instruments faded away completely, quickly replaced by the echoing roars of a violent crowd.
They emerged onto a raised observation deck overlooking a massive subterranean fighting pit. Hundreds of spectators packed the circular stands, screaming wildly as two cultivators traded brutal blows in the center ring. Bright magical spotlights illuminated the blood splattered across the compacted dirt floor.
Solomon rested his elbows against the iron railing and observed the combatants. A towering fighter wielding twin axes swung violently at a nimble martial artist. The smaller fighter utilized impressive evasion techniques to dance around the massive blades.
’This looks significantly better than the illegal ring from yesterday.’ Solomon tapped his fingers against the metal barrier. "The fighters actually possess proper combat foundations."
Marco leaned against the railing next to him. "The Golden Lotus strictly vets their champions. They only allow certified martial artists and high-ranking academy seniors to compete here. A first-year student walking into that pit is entirely unheard of."
Solomon turned his back to the arena and stretched his arms. "That just means the payouts will be much higher when they bet against me."
Solomon leaned his elbows against the iron railing and watched the subsequent matches unfold. He genuinely enjoyed the brutal displays of martial arts and analyzed the varied footwork of the local martial artists.
The underground combatants exchanged punishing blows across the compacted dirt, utilizing elbows and knees to break their opponents’ guards. He tapped his boots against the floorboards while waiting for his turn.
A burly announcer eventually stepped into the center of the ring and shouted his name at the top of his lungs. Solomon grinned brightly and vaulted directly over the metal barrier. He landed smoothly in the center of the fighting pit, kicking up a small cloud of dust around his boots.
"Disqualified!" the announcer roared, pointing a thick finger directly at the massive executioner’s sword strapped to Solomon’s back. "No external weapons are permitted in the bare-knuckle division!"
Solomon straightened his posture and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nobody told me outside weapons were prohibited. I just got here."
The announcer scoffed and gestured toward a towering wooden board erected right beside the betting counters. Intricate golden calligraphy detailed the strict regulations of the underground arena. "The rules are clearly posted right there for everyone to read," the man argued, stepping closer to the silver-haired boy.
Solomon glanced at the massive wooden sign and widened his eyes to feign complete ignorance. He knew exactly how to read the language as they were taught in schools, yet he seamlessly fabricated a ridiculous excuse.
"I have absolutely zero understanding of that language," Solomon lied smoothly, shrugging his shoulders. "I just assumed that board was a list of contestant names or betting odds. I am a foreign exchange academy student from Saint Petersburg, Russia. We do not use those specific characters back home."
[GamerGuy: bro what is Saint Petersburg??]
[LazyCat: LMAO he is just making up entire countries now.]
[1Fizzy: the gaslighting never stops.]
[BloodKnight: Deception is a valid strategy when dealing with underworld syndicates.]
The announcer turned around and signaled for the other arena officials to gather near the edge of the pit. Three men wearing dark robes engaged in a rapid, hushed discussion while pointing repeatedly at Solomon’s academy uniform.
They eventually broke their huddle and nodded toward the center of the ring.
"We will revoke the disqualification," the announcer declared, turning back to face the boy. "However, you must remove that weapon from the combat area."
Solomon unbuckled the thick leather strap from his chest and hauled Eden’s Penance off his back. He walked over to the edge of the dirt ring and attempted to rest the pristine steel against the retaining wall.
"The blade must leave the arena entirely," the announcer corrected him, crossing his massive arms. "You cannot leave it anywhere near the fighting perimeter."
Solomon clicked his tongue and scanned the crowded spectator stands. He quickly spotted Marco Alfoy leaning against the upper railing.
"Hey, catch this for a second!" Solomon yelled, hoisting it into the air.
He tossed the giant executioner’s sword directly toward the second-year student. The sword blade arced over the viewing deck. Marco widened his eyes and scrambled forward to intercept the flying object.
He threw his arms out and caught the weapon against his chest.
The sheer mass of the divine relic immediately dragged Marco forward. His knees buckled instantly, and he desperately dug his boots into the wooden floorboards to stop himself from tipping entirely over the iron barrier.
"Do not grab the hilt!" Solomon warned loudly, pointing a finger at the struggling teenager. "Keep your hands strictly on the flat of the blade ! If your skin touches the handle, the magic will electrocute you until you pass out!"
Marco instantly ripped his hands away from the pristine hilt. He awkwardly wrapped both of his arms around the massive metal slab, resorting to a full bear hug just to keep the giant sword from crashing onto the spectators below.
[GoonLord: MARCO IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE UP THERE!]
[User12: bro just turned his senior into a coat rack.]
[Fatal_Beauty: the way he is hugging that sword is so funny.]
[Chi_Master: an S-Rank weapon reduced to a temporary dumbbell.]
Solomon rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, turning his attention back to the local champion waiting on the opposite side of the pit. He finally possessed the perfect opportunity to blow off some steam and practice his basic martial foundations.
Marco gritted his teeth while wrapping both arms around the pristine scabbard of Eden’s Penance. He leaned his back against the iron railing to keep the giant weapon from pulling him to the floorboards. Down in the dirt ring, Solomon rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.
Suddenly, the iron gates on the opposite side of the pit opened. A tall fighter marched into the light wearing loose silk trousers and spiked leather wraps over his fists. The man vaulted off a wooden barrel and executed a flashy front flip, landing on his feet in the center of the arena.
The underground spectators cheered at the acrobatic display.
Solomon watched the performance and tilted his head. He raised his fists near his jaw and dropped into a standard boxing stance. He lacked any refined martial arts lineage. Fortunately, his three years of mercenary work had granted him the Basic Unarmed Combat skill, which essentially translated to glorified street brawling.
[1Fizzy: bro is fighting a gymnast.]
[2Lazy2Care: look at Solo Man’s guard lol. he looks like a tavern drunk ready to throw hands.]
[Fatal_Beauty: PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE!]
[BloodKnight: Fancy flips waste stamina. A true strike requires ground connection.]
The local champion struck a complex pose. He leveled two fingers at Solomon’s eyes like a striking serpent before lunging forward. The fighter unleashed a flurry of rapid open-palm strikes.
Solomon bobbed his head to the side, letting the spiked knuckles graze past his ear. He stepped inside the man’s guard and twisted his hips. Driving a quick left hook right into the fighter’s ribs, Solomon forced a sharp gasp from the man’s lungs.
"You leave your left side wide open when you strike," Solomon noted, weaving under a retaliatory spinning kick. "Also, jumping around before the match even starts just makes you out of breath."
The champion snarled and threw a straight punch toward Solomon’s nose. Solomon simply slapped the incoming wrist away with his open palm. Using the fighter’s forward momentum against him, Solomon grabbed the man’s belt and tossed him over his hip.
The local favorite crashed into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust. He scrambled back to his feet, spitting a mouthful of sand onto the ground.
Solomon smiled brightly at the hovering bronze owl. "I actually like this place. The opponents bring the fight directly to me, so I don’t have to chase them through a maze."
[James_Hayes: the disrespect of giving a tutorial mid-fight.]
[User12: bro is treating this like a warm-up.]
[Chi_Master: he literally countered a martial art with a hip toss.]
The champion charged again, attempting a low leg sweep followed by a rising knee. Solomon hopped over the sweeping leg. He grabbed the rising knee with both hands and pushed it sharply backward. The fighter lost his footing and fell onto his back. Solomon dropped an elbow straight into the man’s chest.
The spectators went quiet as their champion stayed down on the dirt, groaning in pain.
Solomon stood up and dusted off his spider-silk shirt. He looked toward the betting booths on the upper balcony. "Send the next one out. I am just getting started."
