Revenant's Slaughter: The Reaper System

System's penalty

Days turned into weeks, each one bleeding into the next as Atticus fought battle after battle in the Blood Fist Arena. Every day, the same routine: wake, fight, survive. The dim corridors and oppressive heat had become his world, and the echoes of the roaring crowd were a constant reminder of his captivity. For Atticus, time had lost all meaning, every fight just another step in a seemingly endless cycle of violence.

Each day felt heavier, his muscles aching more as the constant combat began to take its toll. But it wasn’t just his body that suffered—the stagnant energy in his cultivation gnawed at him. He was stuck, unable to break through to the next realm, and the weight of his situation began to settle in like an immovable burden.

Weeks had passed since he last thought of his purpose, of the Reaper System and the mission that had brought him here. His days had become a haze of blood and battle, and his nights were haunted by restless dreams of a life he barely remembered. It was a