Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!
Chapter 124. Tirie Town (3)

Chapter 124: 124. Tirie Town (3)

The participants’ lounge was a rectangular chamber carved into the lower level of the arena, with walls the same grainy sandstone as the exterior.

The room was dimly lit by a series of mana-crystals embedded along the ceiling, casting a pale bluish hue over everything.

Benches lined the walls, some cracked and worn from years of restless fighters waiting their turn. A few others were already seated—each one sizing up the newcomers like we were fresh meat tossed into a den of wolves.

I didn’t mind.

In fact, I welcomed it.

I could feel their eyes on me, measuring, weighing. A few whispered to each other, but I didn’t bother eavesdropping. If they thought I looked weak, they’d find out soon enough just how wrong they were.

Evelyn gave me a small pat on the shoulder before stepping away. "I’ll head to the stands. Try not to get yourself killed before dinner."

"Can’t promise anything," I muttered with a grin.

She rolled her eyes and walked off, her cloak fluttering behind her as she disappeared through the side passage.

With her gone, I finally let myself sit down, leaning back against the cold wall. The arena didn’t waste time with luxury.

No refreshments, no lockers, no announcers explaining the rules. Just a board on the wall projecting the current schedule and a single guard standing near the iron gate that led to the battlefield.

’Efficient, at least,’ I thought.

My name was about halfway down the list.

I watched the current fight play out on a projection screen built into the far wall.

It was a brutal clash between a bulky man wielding a greataxe and a scaled beast with three tails and serrated claws.

The monster moved fast, faster than a creature its size should’ve been able to, but the man wasn’t a slouch either. Blood sprayed across the sand as the two danced, clashed, and screamed. The crowd above roared in approval.

The beast died first.

Barely.

And the man... well, he collapsed before they could drag the corpse away.

The screen flickered to black.

The crowd’s cheers didn’t stop.

’So this is how it works, huh? Kill or be killed. No pomp, no mercy.’

Perfect.

I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing slow, steady. I wasn’t nervous—more like keyed up. I could feel my mana stirring faintly under my skin, a slow burn that pulsed with my heartbeat.

It wasn’t the same chaotic mess it used to be during my training with Isolde. During my killing spree, I had learned to control my mana efficiently. Comparatively.

Eventually, the board updated again.

Name: Cassius Lancaster – Slot 47.

Opponent: Emerak the Ironhide.

Huh. That didn’t sound friendly.

The guard near the gate turned toward me. "You’re up. Follow me."

I rose from the bench and cracked my neck. My body felt loose. Ready. My mind, sharper than ever.

The hallway leading to the arena floor was long and narrow, lit only by the glow of mana torches.

I could hear the rhythmic stomping and cheering from above, the collective heartbeat of a bloodthirsty crowd hungry for violence.

As I stepped into the sunlight, the heat hit me first—followed by the smell. The arena reeked of sweat, blood, and sand.

The walls rose high all around, packed with hundreds of people shouting, waving banners, and throwing their hands in the air. Their cries formed a deafening wave.

Across the field stood my opponent.

Emerak the Ironhide was... well, he lived up to the name. The man was built like a boulder, his upper body bare and layered with thick, iron-toned skin that looked almost metallic.

His arms were lined with old scars, and he held two curved axes, each one longer than my forearm. A mask covered the lower half of his face, with tusk-like protrusions curling upward.

The announcer’s voice rang out over the crowd, echoing across the arena like a warhorn.

"On the left! The challenger! A newcomer from Rose Academy—Cassius Lancaster!"

The crowd gave a mixed reaction. Cheers, jeers, laughter.

"And on the right, our reigning third-tier veteran, the butcher of twelve men—Emerak the Ironhide!"

That got a real reaction.

The floor trembled slightly beneath my boots as the crowd went wild.

The announcer raised a hand.

"Begin!"

Emerak didn’t waste a damn second. The moment the announcer’s voice echoed "Begin!", he charged at me like a bull on steroids—eyes bloodshot, mouth twisted in a snarl, and both axes raised to carve me like a steak.

Naturally, I dodged.

Easily.

To anyone else watching, his movements might’ve looked blazingly fast—ferocious even. But to me? His assault was slower than a leaf fluttering gently down from a tree.

’That’s what a sudden 1000 stat increase in every category does to you.’

I felt lighter. Sharper. Every motion, every twitch of his muscle, every flick of his wrist—it all moved at a crawl.

It was like watching a recording in slow motion while being able to move in fast forward. But still there was a sense of discomfort and sluggishness.

I stretched lazily mid-dodge, my hands still buried deep in my pockets.

I could get used to this.

I landed on the balls of my feet like a feather, barely even displacing the sand beneath me. My body felt right, like all the strain I’d been under training with Isolde had finally paid off in full.

’I could probably go thirty... no, forty rounds of sex without breaking a sweat now.’

Maybe more. But hell, I wasn’t a mathematician.

And who gave a damn about math anyway?

Stupid subject. Always ruining lives with its irrational numbers and abstract nonsense. Screw derivatives and trigonometry. What had sin θ ever done for me?

Emerak slashed again, his twin axes cleaving through the air—one aimed low for my legs, the other high at my torso.

I wasn’t even fazed.

I simply jumped.

A clean vertical leap, a few meters off the ground, effortless.

And yes—my hands were still in my pockets.

I was probably looking more like a guy out for a stroll than someone fighting a murderous axe-wielding maniac in front of a bloodthirsty crowd.

And apparently, the crowd loved it.

Their roars intensified, their attention clearly locked on me now.

"YEAHHH! GO, PURPLE BOY!!"

"SHOW HIM WHO’S DADDY!!"

"BEAT HIS ASS!! BREAK HIS TEETH!! BREAK HIS BONES!!"

"LET’S GOOO! SCHOOLBOY BEATS A CHILD PREDATOR!! AHAHAHA!!"

"Wait, what the hell? What do you mean by that?!"

"I mean... it was funny? Wasn’t it?"

"Dude, people could take that seriously, are you stupid or something?"

"Sorry..."

Okay, not gonna lie, the cheering took a weird turn.

Still, weird or not, it clearly rattled the guy in front of me.

Emerak’s already enraged expression somehow twisted even more. He looked at me like I just banged his wife, burned his house down, and then slapped his favorite goat.

I shrugged lazily. "What’s the matter? Tired already, old man?"

He spat on the ground, voice trembling with fury. "Brat... stop dancing around and fight like a man! One-on-one! No tricks, no dodging like a coward!"

’Oh great, another one of these guys. I’m seriously surprised these fucks exist in real life.’

The "honor in combat" type.

The ones who think brawling face-to-face is the only valid form of battle.

’Are you serious right now? You’re dual-wielding axes and I’m bare-handed, and I’m the one not fighting fair?’

I rolled my eyes. These people were the worst.

Like bro, if you wanted to be fair, drop the axes, tie a hand behind your back, and we’ll see how long you last with your so-called manliness.

I ignored his rant. I’d heard enough speeches about pride, masculinity, and "the warrior’s path" for one lifetime.

Now that I had my bearings with the new stats and didn’t feel sluggish anymore, it was time to end this.

My body surged forward, faster than a blink.

One instant, I was standing ten meters away.

The next?

I was behind him.

Emerak’s hulking frame actually cast a perfect shadow over me, completely hiding my presence from the crowd’s view for a fraction of a second.

But that was all I needed.

My hand—still bare—shot forward.

Clean. Precise. Merciless.

I pierced straight through his back, fingers plunging past flesh, bone, and into his chest cavity. My fingers curled around something warm and soft—beating.

His heart.

For a heartbeat—ironically—he stood still.

Then slowly, he turned his head, trying to process what had just happened.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

I grinned, leaned close to his ear, and whispered, "Found it."

Then, with a casual flick, I yanked his heart out.

The wet squelch was drowned out by the collective gasp of the crowd.

Blood gushed from the hole in his chest like a broken faucet. The crimson spray painted my arm, warm and thick, running down to my elbow.

I held up his heart, still faintly pulsing, and shoved it right into his stunned face.

"Here. In case you were looking for this."

I let go. The heart hit the sand with a pathetic splat, and a moment later, so did Emerak’s body.

THUD.

The arena was dead silent.

For all of three seconds.

Then—

The crowd exploded.

Cheers. Screams. Applause. Some were laughing like maniacs. Others were jumping in their seats. And a few were already throwing coins down from the stands in celebration.

"YEAHHHHH!! PURPLE BOY WINS!!"

"GODDAMN, THAT WAS BRUTAL!!"

"DID YOU SEE THAT?! HE RIPPED HIS HEART OUT!"

"THIS IS BETTER THAN SEX!!"

"...You okay, man?"

The notification pinged in my vision a second later.

« +10 Exp »

I blinked.

’Wait. That’s it? Just ten?’

I stared down at the corpse.

He was a beast of a man, clearly experienced, muscles like boulders, and yet...

Rank★★.

Seriously?

All that theatrics and hype—and he was just a Rank ★★ opponent?

I sighed. "So much for a challenge."

Still, I couldn’t deny it.

It felt good.