Atticus pressed onward, the towering monolith before him radiating an ominous energy. As he approached, the pressure around him intensified, like invisible hands gripping at his very essence, trying to squeeze the life from him. He gritted his teeth, every step becoming harder as the weight on his soul grew unbearable.When he reached the base of the monolith, a deep vibration coursed through the ground, and the ancient runes etched into the stone glowed a fierce crimson. Without warning, a pulse of energy shot out from the monolith, slamming into Atticus and sending him staggering backward.His breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to remain on his feet. The pressure was no longer just physical—it was attacking his soul, probing for weaknesses, for any crack in his resolve. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled as the crushing force intensified, threatening to tear his spirit apart.But Atticus was no stranger to pain. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright, defying the
As night fell over the Bloodfist Arena, Atticus felt a tension building within him. The day had been grueling, with hours spent preparing for tomorrow's fight, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that something pivotal was about to happen, something that would change the course of his journey in this cursed realm. As the shadows deepened, he heard a familiar rustling outside his quarters. Before he could react, Vex slipped into the room like a wraith. The wiry man’s sharp eyes glinted in the dim light, his usual cautious demeanor even more pronounced."It’s time," Vex whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the arena. "The meeting's happening tonight. We need to leave now."Atticus nodded, already prepared. He had been expecting this, though he hadn’t anticipated the urgency in Vex’s voice. They left the arena under the cover of darkness, navigating the winding streets of the demon city with practiced ease. The tension in the air was palpabl
Atticus returned to the arena lodge with Kraul's words still echoing in his mind. 'I will just have to find an alternative I guess'Tomorrow's fight loomed ahead, but his thoughts were consumed by the plan Kraul had laid out. Allowing Xar'gath to breach the veil and invade his world was a prospect that gnawed at him, yet he knew he had to stay focused. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions as he entered the lodge. The familiar scent of sweat, blood, and metal filled his senses, grounding him in the reality of the moment. The arena was where he had honed his skills, where he had survived against all odds. But now, it felt like a distraction from the larger conflict, a cruel reminder that his true battle lay far beyond these walls.A few fellow fighters nodded in acknowledgment as he passed, their respect for him evident. He had earned his place among them through sheer dominance in the arena, his reputation growing with each victory. But there was no camaraderie here, only a sha
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
Atticus stood alone in his quarters, the heavy silence pressing in around him. His thoughts churned as the system’s cold voice echoed in his mind. 'Two choices. Both deadly.'Facing Xar'gath, a 'Nascent Soul-level demon', was as good as a death sentence. The demon lord’s power was unrivaled in this realm, and Atticus knew he wasn’t strong enough to take him on. But the alternative was just as dangerous. The **Gate of Oblivion**—a forbidden technique that could tear open space itself, allowing him to escape. Yet the system’s demand for more death, more souls, was a price Atticus wasn’t sure he could pay.His chest felt tight as the weight of the decision bore down on him. The system was relentless, pushing him to act. But what would be left of him after? His chaos meridian was already fragile, weakened by the demonic qi that coursed through him. If he used the Reaper System too much, if he harvested too many souls, he risked losing control—risked losing everythingBut he couldn’t stay
Atticus could barely feel the thrum of his pulse through the haze of exhaustion as he emerged from the arena. The demon’s death had bought him the Reaper Points he needed, but it had also left him with a gnawing emptiness. The shadows of the arena’s blood-soaked ground seemed to cling to him as he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors to Grimlock’s office.The arena manager’s quarters were a stark contrast to the brutal spectacle of the arena. Lined with opulent furnishings and trinkets from across the realms, the room was a testament to Grimlock’s status. It was here that Atticus found him, hunched over a desk cluttered with papers and gambling receipts.“Grimlock,” Atticus began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.Grimlock looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Atticus. You look like hell. But that's the point uhn. Gunning for more fights?”“Actually,” Atticus said, leaning against the doorframe, “I’m here to talk about something similar.”Grimlock’s interest piqued. He
The next day came by with a flash and tonight was the night his request would be answered. He spent the days leading up to this moment in a haze of fights, each victory further solidifying his dominance in the Bloodfist Arena. But it wasn’t enough. The thrill of victory, once intoxicating, had dulled. He craved more—something darker, more dangerous. He needed it...he needed to kill.That desire led him here, to the bowels of the Bloodfist Arena, where Grimlock had agreed to take him to the underground ring. The hidden arena was a myth whispered among fighters—a place where death was certain, but the rewards were even greater.As the evening began, Grimlock appeared in the training hall, his face grim and set as always. "You ready, kid?" he asked, his voice rough with experience.Atticus wiped the sweat from his brow and gave a curt nod. "Lead the way."Without another word, Grimlock motioned for Atticus to follow. They descended into the depths of the arena, passing through dimly lit
As Atticus left the underground ring, the cheers and bloodthirsty roars of the crowd still echoed in his ears. His steps were steady, his expression calm, but beneath the surface, his body thrummed with a strange energy. The soul essence of the Bone Crusher, the life force of his defeated opponent, lingered within him, fueling his every step. The system was doing its work, absorbing the essence and converting it into raw power. His mind was flooded with the sensation of strength—a heavy, suffocating weight that both thrilled and disturbed him. The Reaper Points tally flashed in his vision, now at a staggering 50,000."All that from one fight," Atticus muttered to himself as he crossed through the dark, winding corridors. The weight of the negative emotions he had absorbed—the fear, the hatred, the malice of the crowd and the Bone Crusher—pressed down on him like a suffocating cloak. It had fueled his victory, his current profit. It was a dark, addictive power, one that came at the co