Akira placed both hands on the giant door covered in light. A strange force from within seemed to respond to her actions, causing the door to slowly open, emitting a heavy sound.
The moment the door opened slightly, a powerful suction force erupted, swallowing all three people before they could react.
**Bang!!**
A loud explosion shook the entire space. The world before Ascil, Akira, and Khaz suddenly shattered like a shattered mirror. Everything felt like it was upside down, unable to distinguish between up and down, all that remained was a blinding white light.
---
When everything gradually stabilized, Ascil opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was... **the original hall** — where they had gathered before the game began.
The marble floor was shiny, the waterfall suspended in mid-air still gently pouring down, the atmosphere was strangely quiet.
Ascil's eyes widened in surprise, looking around and then back at his teammates.
> "Huh... an illusion?" he stuttered, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Akira also turned his head to look around, his expression both wary and bewildered.
> "No... it feels so real... It's definitely not an illusion," she whispered, her hand still on the hilt of her sword.
Khaz scratched his head in confusion, his face grimacing:
"I thought I was thrown out of the game. But looking back... it's clear that this is still the playground of the 'people above'."
The three of them stood close together, not daring to be careless. This quiet space made each footstep echo clearly, hauntingly.
Suddenly, from the high platform — where Houliu once stood — a familiar voice echoed:
"Congratulations on passing the opening round"
Ascil narrowed his eyes, shaking his head in confusion. He turned to Akira and Khaz, then exclaimed:
> "Is that all there is to Act 1? Why... is it so simple?"
> "I thought there would be bloodshed or fighting some terrible monster..."
As soon as the sentence ended, a familiar figure appeared on the high platform: **Houliu Van Besten**.
She didn't say anything, just silently walked closer to the edge of the platform, looking down at Ascil's group as if looking at three innocent children. Her face showed no emotion, her eyes were cold and unreadable.
Ascil raised his head, intending to ask something more. But before he could open his mouth, Houliu suddenly raised his hand — and a punch from afar seemed to explode right in front of him!
Slap!!
Ascil's entire body flew backwards, rolling several times on the marble floor.
Akira and Khaz were startled, and quickly supported Ascil, who was staggering to his feet, his face distorted.
Houliu said coldly, his voice even as if he was making a judgment:
> "If you want to survive, never underestimate what the 'people above' have set up."
"Stage 1 is just a small test — from now on, it's really a life-and-death game."
Without waiting for a reply, Houliu turned around and walked straight into the space behind the platform, disappearing into the mist, leaving the three of them standing there in heavy silence.
Ascil groaned while clutching his chest:
> "Damn it... she's really going to do it..."
Khaz chuckled:
> "At least... now I believe this game isn't simple."
Akira sighed, pulling everyone up:
> "There's no time to complain. It's only been an hour. We have to find a way out."
After Houliu disappeared, the Ascils sat down on the marble floor, resting and waiting.
After a while, other groups began to appear — one after another, coming out of different streams of light.
Some were injured, some had bruises on their faces, it seemed like everyone had gone through some pretty tough ordeals.
The atmosphere in the hall was extremely heavy. Everyone looked at each other with caution and coldness.
At that moment, **Houliu** appeared again, this time standing right in the middle of the hall. She raised a stone microphone-like object, her voice echoing everywhere:
> "Alright, warriors. Act 1 is just the warm-up. Now I'll announce..."
She paused for a moment, a faint smile on her lips:
> "Act 2 has officially begun."
> "**From now on, there will be no more teams, no more allies.**"
> "Everyone will be randomly divided into 1v1 battles. No rules. No restrictions on weapons, skills, or tricks. All tricks are allowed."
> "The last 4 survivors will gain the right to enter the final game."
Having said this, Houliu let out a meaningful smile, his eyes sweeping over each person as if he was evaluating a toy that was about to break.
The crowd immediately stirred. Some people began to whisper, while others quietly retreated to prepare for battle.
Ascil frowned:
> "Damn... I didn't expect it to be this cruel."
Akira laughed coldly:
> "I used to think this world was cruel. But this place... is far beyond what is called cruel."
Khaz cracked his neck, his eyes flashing with excitement:
> "That's good... I like this game."
---
Houliu waved her hand, and immediately, **a series of small teleportation gates** appeared in front of each person.
Her voice rang out again:
> "Enter the teleportation gate that corresponds to you. The arena will be on the other side.
> Remember: only one person can leave each match."
The entire hall was filled with a stifling atmosphere.
Everyone understood: from here on, only the strong or the lucky ones remained.
Ascil tightened his grip on the sword in his hand, his eyes becoming sharp:
> "Alright... Let's dance."
He took a deep breath, then walked straight into the gate that was waiting for him.
---
Ascil stepped through the portal, the blinding light forcing him to squint.
When he opened his eyes, the sight before him made him pause for a moment:
He was standing in the middle of a huge arena**, the sky was gray and heavy with dark clouds, tall stone walls towering all around, exactly like what he had seen of the ancient Roman arena** in books.
There was no audience. No cheers. Just an eerie silence.
Right across from him, a strange man stood there — about ten meters away.
He wore a tattered, dirty gray robe.
No shoes, no protective armor, his bare feet covered in dirt.
Behind him was a giant scythe**, its curved blade gleaming a deadly silver.
His face was hidden under a hood, only the lower half of his face was visible, covered in scars.
Ascil frowned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword:
> "Is he my opponent?"
The other person walked slowly towards Ascil, each step causing the dust under his feet to fly up.
The surrounding air seemed to cool down by a few degrees.
The system's voice rang out in Ascil's head:
> "Warning: Do not get hit by the scythe. If you get hit once, your chance of survival is almost zero."
Ascil chuckled dryly:
> "That sounds really good..."
The other person suddenly raised his head, revealing a pair of red eyes that were like embers smoldering under his hood.
He growled hoarsely:
> "**Come here... let me finish you... quickly.**"
Saying that, he pulled out the scythe from behind his back and swung it lightly.
A sharp gust of wind whistled, cutting a long gash on the marble floor.
Without warning, the scythe-wielding man rushed forward like a whirlwind.
The scythe was longer than his body and swung down, aiming straight for Ascil's head.
Reacting extremely quickly, Ascil leaned over and slid backwards, the tip of his shoe scraping the ground, leaving a long trail.
He barely dodged, only feeling the cold wind brushing against his face.
Not losing his momentum, Ascil charged forward to counterattack.
He crouched low, sliding close to the ground, the blade swung out, aiming straight for the other man's waist.
But his opponent was not surprised at all.
He turned around like a wild beast, raised his foot and kicked straight into Ascil's body before the sword could reach him.
**Slap!**
The kick carried an enormous force, hitting Ascil's chest, causing him to **be pushed back** and **hit the ground**.
**Boom!**
A cloud of sand and dust rose up.
Ascil groaned, feeling as if all his ribs had just been shaken. He tried to get up immediately, not allowing himself to lie down for long.
The **Scythe-Holder** was still standing there calmly, his crimson eyes locked on him as if looking at a dying prey.
He spun the scythe in his hand once, the cold sound of metal screeching, then slowly advanced, step by step, as if enjoying the moment of hunting.
Seeing his opponent approaching step by step, Ascil quickly made a plan in his mind.
He put his sword back behind his back, and at the same time reached out to touch the sword pouch that was across his waist.
From the mouth of the pouch, a faint purple-black light began to radiate.
Ascil lowered his voice, speaking softly as if whispering:
> "**Come on, Muramasa...**"
> "**I will trade ten thousand years of my life, just to get permission to use you in this moment.**"
As soon as the oath ended, **the space around him suddenly cracked into small spider web-like cracks**.
A thick black gas gushed out, so cold that the stone floor beneath his feet began to freeze thinly.
From the pouch, a new sword slowly appeared —
The blade was thin and long, shining a deep red as if it was forged from fresh blood.
The surface of the blade was engraved with strange characters that were **flashing** like living eyes.
**Muramasa — The Sword of Curses.**
The moment Ascil grasped the hilt, a fierce power surged through his body.
His entire body seemed to become light, his reflexes were surprisingly sharp.
Ascil's eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips curled into a cold smile:
> "It's my turn to attack."
The scythe wielder seemed to sense the change as well.
He paused for a moment, his red eyes flashing with vigilance.
Holding **Muramasa** tightly in his hand, Ascil leaned forward.
A sharp wind tore through the air as he **rushed forward like a flash of lightning**, the crimson blade drawing a deadly arc.
**The scythe-wielder** immediately turned around, swinging the scythe horizontally to block defense.
**Keng—**
No.
**No sound of impact rang out.**
The Muramasa blade pierced straight through the scythe as if it were an illusion, then delivered a fatal blow to the opponent's weapon-wielding arm.
**Swoosh!**
A clean slash.
The other arm instantly turned into dust, carried away by the gloomy wind.
> "**Aaarghhh!!!**"
The scythe-wielder let out a miserable scream, clutching his remaining arm.
His face was distorted in extreme pain and panic. Only now did he realize — the sword Ascil held was not a mortal thing.
It was something that had been "given a name" — a Named Thing, an entity that existed beyond the normal rules
**Muramasa** was not simply a weapon, but a **living curse**.
> "Impossible… impossible!"
> "You… how could you summon a Named Thing…" — he hissed, his eyes filled with horror.
Ascil only curled his lips into a cold smile, raising his sword once more.
The blood-stained blade reflected his sharp eyes.
> "You ask too many questions."
Ascil charged forward, preparing to **end** the battle
**Ascil** clenched the hilt of his sword, advancing like a cold storm.
With just a breath, **Muramasa** tore through the air —
A slash across the neck, as fast as thunder.
**Slap!**
The scythe wielder's head was cut off in a clean slash.
His body stood still for a few seconds before collapsing onto the cold ground.
Blood gushed out, bright red, but strangely, it did not splatter, but rather seeped into the ancient stones beneath his feet.
At that moment, when the head was separated from the neck, the defeated man's eyes were filled with tears.
Not from pain.
**He was crying.**
**Crying for the past.**
**Crying for the present.**
**Crying for the future that he would never reach.**
---
**In a faraway place —**
In the land of **Atlas**, in the 5th year of the Fengsheng calendar,
There existed a remote, peaceful countryside.
There, lived a poor family, but full of laughter and warmth.
A dilapidated old house, simple meals but filled with love.
**That child — the one who once held a scythe and entered the arena today — had such a warm beginning.**
His father was a poor blacksmith, his mother was a gentle woman, always holding him in her arms whenever it rained.
In his childhood, he dreamed of protecting his village, becoming a warrior to fight against the forces of darkness.
But then the war came.
That small village was burned down.
The family was broken.
He, from an innocent child, **was forced to become a tool of war**, the scythe in his hand was stained with blood day by day, until he himself did not recognize himself anymore.
He began to kill people without mercy.
Women, the elderly, children, ... he killed everyone. One day, feeling really depressed, the god who ruled his land came to see him and said: "Come with me and I will fulfill your wish".
The other guy: "I just want to meet a strong opponent and kill continuously."
The other guy: "Okay, what is your name?"
The other guy: "My name is..."
---
And now, when his body fell, his soul was finally given back a part of his old memories.
The last tears fell —
Not because of defeat, but because of sadness for himself.
---
**Ascil** stood there, silently.
The Muramasa in his hand gradually dissipated into nothingness as if it had never existed.
He let out a soft breath.
> "Sorry." — Ascil muttered, the words only he could hear.
Then he turned his back, walking away from the bloody battlefield.
Another cold step, on the path that all of them — the "last hopes" — were forced to walk.
In the endless void, Tyler floated, drifting like a dead leaf in a black flood.
Around him was a dark ocean, cold and heavy, so heavy that every breath seemed frozen.
Tyler's hazy eyes looked around absently — only to see the thick darkness swallowing everything.
He exclaimed, his voice trembling:
> "Is this... the other side of the world...?
Mom... where are my parents...?"
In desperation, Tyler tried to glance down.
And then he saw it — at the bottom were countless corpses, twisted, rotting bodies, rising up, reaching out cold, ghostly arms toward him.
They were like bloodthirsty creatures, waiting for him to sink so they could tear him to pieces.
Tyler raised his head, searching for the last bit of light.
But the sky... that light... was fading, giving way to absolute darkness.
He gave up.
A sob escaped from his dry throat.
He closed his eyes, letting his heavy body sink into the bottomless abyss.
However —
Just as all hope seemed lost,
a deep voice rang out, like thunder in the dark night:
> "Hey... have you forgotten your wish?
Are you going to give up so easily?"
Tyler opened his eyes.
A shining figure was hovering before him —
the **god** who had placed his hand on his shoulder that day, giving him the chance to enter this life-and-death game.
Tyler's eyes were filled with tears:
> "I... am too weak...
I don't have enough strength... and there's no time left..."
The god looked at him silently.
A half-sad, half-encouraging smile appeared on that divine face.
> "If you need power, I will give it to you.
But remember, what you pay for... is all that is left of yourself.
Now...
Wake up, Tyler!"
---
**BOOM!!!**
A terrifying power exploded, engulfing Tyler.
He felt his bones cracking, his blood boiling, his consciousness almost torn apart.
But at the same time, a new life force — strong, fierce as a storm — burned in every cell.
Tyler screamed, like a wild beast that had just been released from captivity!
---
When Tyler opened his eyes,
he was no longer in the middle of the deep sea.
Before him —
was the ruined Roman arena, stained with blood under the dim light.
Ascil, with a bleeding Muramasa in his hand, was staring at him, his eyes filled with astonishment.
Somehow, Tyler was back.
Not only that — he was stronger than before.
No longer a weak warrior.
Now, he was a cornered beast —
ready to tear apart anything that stood in his way.