Chapter 2. The Underground Arena (1)
“Hey, wake up.”
Tap, tap—
Someone was shaking my shoulder.
I forced open my heavy eyelids and looked around.
My vision spun at first, but the surroundings slowly came into focus.
“……”
A filthy, damp underground prison.
Dozens of slaves sat slumped in lines, utterly exhausted.
Their ragged appearance, as if they hadn’t eaten in days, showed just how dire this place was.
“You’re finally awake. I thought you were dead, lying there without moving.”
Swoosh—
I turned my gaze toward the person who had woken me.
A well-built man, unlike the frail, trembling slaves.
‘…Sven.’
That was his name.
He was the man who had shared food with me during my time in this prison.
Thanks to him, I’d managed to survive the past five days without starving.
“Anyway, you should start getting ready. Seems like the match is about to start.”
“…Match?”
“Yeah. Can’t you hear it? The cheers of the crowd?”
I focused my hearing.
Just as he said, faint cheers could be heard from somewhere far away.
‘Right… it’s been five days since I came to my senses in this prison. It’s about time that event starts.’
Tap, tap—
“Anyway, stay sharp, friend. If we make it through this match, we might just get out of this hellhole alive.”
Sven patted my shoulder and moved on to wake the other slaves.
I watched him in a daze, then let out a deep sigh.
“Hoo…”
The Underworld Arena.
A dreadful place where brutal, bloody matches are held.
Here, slaves are nothing more than disposable entertainment, abused until their final moments to excite the spectators.
‘…No wonder Sven calls this place hell.’
Faced with this grim reality, I couldn’t help but sigh again.
But hell or not, just three days ago, I had a different name for this place.
‘Tutorial Point.’
A zone I’d visited hundreds of times through the game screen.
“……”
Right.
It’s been five days. It’s time to accept reality.
Somehow, I’ve been thrown into the game I used to love playing.
━━━━━━━━━━━━
Strength: 1
Agility: 1
Stamina: 1
Mana: 1
Perception: 1
…
【Hidden Mastery】
Weapon Skills
Sword: Lv. MAX
━━━━━━━━━━━━
…And to top it off, I ended up in the body of that joke character I made just for fun.
‘At least the story is unfolding just like the original game… right?’
The Underworld Arena was always the first area where sword-type characters began a new run.
As someone who had played over 200 runs, I knew this place like the back of my hand.
Which is exactly why I felt so conflicted.
‘…This place is absolutely impossible to escape.’
Impenetrable security. A facility designed to make escape impossible. Cruel administrators who ensured slaves couldn’t even dream of freedom.
The Underworld Arena was a hellish zone—one of the game’s most unforgiving locations.
Struggling here was pointless. That’s why I’d spent the last five days lying low in my cell.
‘More than anything, I can’t even think of escaping in this weak body.’
And that was the biggest problem.
I had no strength whatsoever.
My head felt like it was filled with rocks, my vision kept spinning, and I was constantly dizzy.
Maybe it was because I only survived on the scraps Sven gave me for the past few days…
【Lv. 1】
…But judging by my level, that wasn’t the only reason.
“……”
I slowly looked around.
Above the heads of the other slaves, I could see semi-transparent status windows—just like in the game.
【Lv. 7】
【Lv. 6】
【Lv. 8】
The average adult male in Roel was around level 10.
Even these starved, dying slaves were all over level 5.
And yet, I was level 1.
My stat window was a disaster—strength, stamina, magic, perception… all ones across the board.
‘No wonder I feel so weak.’
Suddenly, a system message from a few days ago flashed through my mind.
[Warning: Character stats are not viable for normal gameplay.]
Why did I ignore that warning?
If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve distributed my stats more evenly.
Regret surged through me.
‘The only thing I can rely on now is this…’
I turned to the corner of my status window.
Specifically, to the mythical 12-star skill I had traded all my stats for.
━━━━━━━━━━━━
【Soul of the Swordmaster】
Grade: ★★★★★★★★★★★★ (12-star / Mythical)
Type: Toggle Skill
Cost: 100 Mana per second
━━━━━━━━━━━━
‘…So why the hell is it unusable?’
Instead of gleaming with a radiant rainbow hue, the 12-star skill was dimmed in a dull gray.
Unusable.
Ever since I woke up in this prison, [Soul of the Swordmaster] had remained that way.
‘Is it because my maximum MP is just 1?’
The skill required 100 mana per second.
But I only had 1 mana.
A quick calculation told me I could use it for, at most, 0.01 seconds.
‘If it really is disabled because of that…’
Then the skill I sacrificed every other stat to obtain was utterly useless.
“Shit.”
The curse slipped out without me realizing.
And no wonder—
BANG—!
The brutal tutorial that was about to begin couldn’t possibly be endured with my current fragile body.
“Get up, you worthless maggots!”
The iron doors slammed open and half a dozen guards stormed in, cracking their whips at the slaves.
I thought to myself as I watched.
‘It’s starting.’
The Tutorial.
An event that always happened on the fifth day after the player was imprisoned in the Underworld Arena.
It marked the beginning of Roel’s real story.
“What are you doing? Move, now!”
Crack—!
Suddenly, searing pain struck my back.
A guard had whipped me.
“Urgh…!”
God, it hurt.
So damn much.
With my frail body, even a single strike made my vision go white.
But I couldn’t stay down.
To avoid more lashes, the slaves—including me—scrambled away from the guards.
“Huff… Huff…”
At the end of the dark corridor, a faint light appeared.
As I got closer, the cheering grew louder.
Before long, the path opened up into a massive, open arena.
WOOOOOOOOO──!!
I stopped in my tracks and looked around in awe.
“Ah…”
A colossal circular arena surrounded by tens of thousands of spectators.
The dirt floor was soaked with blood, and a few corpses still lay scattered about.
Then, a boisterous male voice echoed through the arena.
─Now then, it’s time for today’s second match!
I looked up toward the source of the voice.
At the top of the arena, a one-eyed announcer was shouting into a magical megaphone.
─First up, we have 15 slaves from the Underworld Arena!
─Dragged here after failing to pay their debts, these poor souls now fight for their freedom!
─Those who survive will have their debts cleared and receive a grand prize of 100 million shillings from the Ruin Merchant Guild!
Rusty weapons were scattered across the arena.
A few quick-witted slaves rushed to grab them before the announcer even finished speaking.
Clank—
Just then, the opposite gate began to creak open.
The announcer shouted again.
─And now, the lone hero who will face all 15 slaves at once!
Gulp—
I swallowed dryly.
The next words echoed in my ears before they were even spoken.
Because this was a scene I had seen hundreds of times during gameplay.
─The Human Butcherrrrr, Barva!
The moment I had only watched on a screen was now playing out before my very eyes.
Boom—!
The ground shook.
Over 3 meters tall.
A massive warrior clad in black armor emerged from the shadows, wielding twin axes.
Above his head hovered a translucent window.
【Lv. 71】
Level 71.
In the game’s lore, anyone above level 90 was considered among the strongest in the world.
Barva was practically the Underworld Arena’s final boss.
He wasn’t a slave. He was a free warrior hired by the arena.
WOOOOOOOOO──!!
The crowd erupted even louder than before.
“A-Aaaah…”
The slaves around me went pale.
Some collapsed on the spot at the sight of the terrifying warrior approaching.
“Get it together, you bastards!”
Then, one man shouted as he picked up a spear.
…Sven.
He glared at Barva with fierce determination.
“There’s more of us! If we just kill that big bastard, we’ll be free!”
Freedom.
That word changed the air among the slaves.
Their eyes lit with a glimmer of hope.
Gripping their worn weapons tightly, they found the will to fight again.
“……”
But I clenched my lips tightly.
Because I knew exactly how this tutorial ended.
‘…No one survives.’
Every single slave dies in this match.
No exceptions.
Even the player character is split in half by Barva’s twin axes.
Whirl—!
SPLAT—!
Silence fell over the arena.
A watermelon-like splatter, and blood sprayed everywhere.
I turned around.
Barva’s axe had sliced Sven’s face clean in half.
Thud—
His body collapsed.
A delayed explosion of cheers burst from the crowd.
WOOOOOOOOOOOO──!!
And then came the massacre.
Barva lived up to his title, swinging his axes in a killing frenzy for the crowd.
Blood and entrails flew through the air.
Slaves ran for their lives, but the axes found them one by one.
I could only watch, my eyes trembling.
‘My body… won’t move…!’
It wasn’t fear.
Some unknown force bound me tight.
A tutorial cutscene.
To replicate the game’s perspective, the system immobilized me.
‘…Right.’
This is how the tutorial works.
The player and the slaves are never meant to win.
Not because of level differences, but because the game was designed that way.
Veteran players had tried countless times.
But when Barva’s HP drops below a certain threshold, a forced cutscene plays—where the player is executed.
That was how it was coded.
‘The player dies and is tossed into a pit of corpses…’
Then, they are resurrected by a wandering Necromancer.
A story element to justify Retry after each death.
The player’s first death in the tutorial marks the true beginning of Roel.
“……”
But just because that was the original storyline didn’t mean I would give up.
Game is game. Reality is reality.
Even if the necromancer could revive me…
I didn’t want to die.
Because I had a very important reason not to.
“Huff… Huff…”
Of course, I knew.
In normal circumstances, a level 1 like me couldn’t possibly survive against a level 71 monster.
Among tens of thousands of spectators, not a single one had hope for me.
‘Still… it’s not impossible.’
Because—
Ding—!
[Usable]
The moment I gripped the hilt of a rusty sword lying on the ground…
The long-dormant 12-star skill began to shine with a brilliant rainbow light.
‘…So that was the trigger—holding a sword.’
It wasn’t my 1 MP that disabled the skill.
It wasn’t my terrible stats either.
━━━━━━━━━━━━
【Hidden Mastery】
Weapon Skills
Sword: Lv. MAX
━━━━━━━━━━━━
A fitting reward for investing everything into swordsmanship.
The skill only activates when holding a sword.
“Hoo…”
Swoosh—
A notification rang, and I regained control of my body.
The cutscene was over.
I exhaled slowly and looked at my MP window.
[MP: 1/1]
0.01 seconds.
With a cost of 100 MP per second, I had only a hundredth of a second to use the skill.
‘Can I do it…?’
Could I really kill that monster with a 12-star skill in just 0.01 seconds?
I didn’t know.
But the only way to find out was to try it—on Barva the Butcher himself.
“Rrrgh…!”
I gripped the hilt tight and lifted the one-handed sword embedded in the dirt.
My strength stat was so low, my arms trembled just holding it.
Some spectators burst into laughter at the sight.
Even Barva paused from slaughtering the other slaves and glanced at me—then looked away just as quickly.
As if I wasn’t even worth noticing.
“……”
Yeah.
It was laughable.
A scrawny slave draped in rags, struggling to hold a sword.
‘But still…’
Praying that this would mean something—
I cast [Soul of the Swordmaster].
[MP: 1/1]
Tick—
[MP: 0/1]
KAAAAA-BOOOOOOOOM───!!
A deafening explosion ripped through the arena.
Gale-force winds blasted past me. My eyes shut instinctively.
My rags flapped wildly, and my hair whipped in the storm.
Then… silence.
I slowly opened my tightly shut eyes.
“……!”
My heart nearly stopped.
Barva, who had been far away just a second ago, now stood right in front of me.
But that wasn’t all.
My arms—gripping the one-handed sword—were stretched forward.
And the rusty blade’s tip…
Drip… drip…
…had sliced cleanly through Barva’s neck, his head completely gone.
