Chapter 6: Chapter 5: Arena (1)
The man walked slowly along the narrow stone path, his eyes darting around as he studied every corner of the city that had now become his new home. Wooden buildings with faded rooftops, small stalls filled with cloth, dried food, and metal goods lined the street. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, roasted meat, and human sweat.
"Hot bread! Fresh from the oven!" shouted a vendor, raising his basket of bread high.
"Fresh vegetables! Picked just this morning!" a woman called out, her voice sharp as she tried to drown out the others.
Voices overlapped, clashing against one another. The ringing of metal being hammered echoed faintly from afar, mingled with the laughter and shrieks of children running through the streets.
"Catch me if you can!"
He did not want to draw attention to himself. The system had provided him with a single-use cloak of invisibility. The cloth was thin, yet it made him appear faint and blurry to the eyes of others. He adjusted the edge of the cloak, ensuring no part of his body was exposed before stepping into the heart of the bustling marketplace.
He knew very well that the body he now inhabited was not his own. He had not been reborn in this world; instead, he had transmigrated into the body of someone who had already died. Judging by its frail, emaciated condition, he guessed the original owner had perished from hunger or thirst.
Though the body was unfamiliar, the scenery before his eyes felt strangely familiar. The cries of merchants, the clashing of metal until the laughter of children in narrow alleys, it all felt like something he had lived through before.
"I… have been here?" he murmured under his breath.
But every time he tried to remember, his mind went blank. In the end, he convinced himself it was nothing more than a trick of the mind. A phenomenon like déjà vu, where people believed they had seen or done something before, though in reality, they never had.
"Just my imagination," he muttered, exhaling heavily as he shook his head.
The crowd in the marketplace grew denser. The stench of sweat stung his nose, his steps were squeezed tight, and his voice drowned beneath the endless noise of the masses.
"Hey! Don't push me!" barked a man nearby.
"Sorry… sorry," a woman apologized, nearly losing her balance.
His own body swayed, shoved left and right by the throng. Unable to bear it any longer, he searched for an escape. His eyes caught sight of a narrow alley by the side of the market. Without hesitation, he slipped into the quieter path.
Creak! Creeeeak...!
The sound of an old wooden door swaying in the wind echoed faintly from the alley. The air smelled damp and musty. Moss crept along the wet walls of buildings, while piles of wooden crates and rusted barrels cluttered the narrow way.
It was there that his eyes landed on something suspicious.
A group of figures cloaked in pitch-black robes was gathered behind a large building. Their robes hung low, covering them from head to toe. Their movements were slow and deliberate, as though engaged in something meant to be hidden.
He froze in place.
"What…?"
His heart pounded violently.
"Thump… thump… thump…" as though it wanted to burst from his chest. From where he stood, it was obvious their actions were anything but normal.
He stepped back carefully, searching for a hiding spot. His gaze landed on a stack of broken wooden crates to the left. Quickly, he crouched behind them, holding his breath so as not to make a sound.
"Stay close. Do not let anyone see," whispered one of the black-robed figures, his voice low and gravelly.
"Blood… we need more blood…" rasped another, his tone hoarse.
The man's hair stood on end. Through the gap between the crates, he peered cautiously. The robed figures were moving in a circle. A faint chanting sound rose, like a unified whisper.
"Shhh… shhh… shhh…" the hiss-like chant echoed in unison.
Their hands moved rhythmically, tracing strange symbols in the air.
He clutched the edge of his cloak tighter, struggling to steady his breathing.
"What are they doing…?" he whispered so softly it was nearly inaudible.
The scene before him was undeniably suspicious.
The man remained hidden behind the worn wooden crate, his ears straining to catch every sound. His breath came slow and shallow, carefully suppressed so it wouldn't be heard. The faint murmurs of the hooded figures grew clearer, their whispers overlapping until they formed a chilling rhythm.
"Hhhmmm… ssshhh… vrrraa…" The murmurs carried no meaning, yet they were enough to make his skin crawl.
He pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to steady the wild thumping of his heart. Memories from the past flickered through his mind. He had been in situations like this before. Back when he was still a warrior, he often slipped into enemy hideouts, listening in on their vile conversations before cutting them down one by one. More than once he had witnessed schemes woven out of greed and betrayal.
His memories shifted again, this time to when he once sat upon a throne as a king. He could still recall the faces of the nobles who visited him with their sweet smiles, hiding their rotting intentions behind honeyed words. They spoke of bribes, of buying and selling slaves in a kingdom where slavery was outlawed, and of siphoning off the kingdom's resources for their own gain.
A heavy voice broke him out of his thoughts. One of the hooded men spoke, his tone commanding, unmistakably a leader.
"All preparations are complete. Now, it is time to serve the 'meal' to them."
"Meal?" the man muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing.
His grip on the hem of his cloak trembled slightly. His heart wavered. Should he intervene? The body he now inhabited was weak, yet the strength he once possessed still lingered deep inside. Even if he wasn't used to this vessel yet, he was certain he could at least cut down four or five of them with ease.
"If the guards arrive later… perhaps everything will end quicker," he thought, biting his lip.
But reason quickly pushed back. That unstable power would destroy this fragile body, not protect it. And besides, he had no desire to draw attention to himself so soon. He had just arrived in this world. Becoming the center of chaos now was the last thing he needed.
"Tsk." He clicked his tongue softly and his expression dark.
"Boring… just like my previous life."
In the end, he chose to remain still, watching and waiting. His body pressed closer to the crate, ears sharpened, picking up every detail.
Suddenly, one of the hooded men raised his hand high, and the group cried out in unison.
"¡Os presentamos un platito!"
"HUARGHHHH!!!" Their voices roared together, shaking the man's chest with its force.
At that exact moment, a strong gust of wind swept through.
𝘞hoooshhh!
The narrow alley trembled strangely, and in an instant, the entire group vanished.
"They… disappeared?" The man's eyes widened in disbelief.
Slowly, he rose from his hiding place, his steps cautious to avoid any sound. His gaze swept across the spot where they had gathered. Nothing remained. No footprints, no blood, not even a trace on the ground. It was as if nothing had ever happened.
He stood upright, drawing in a long breath.
"What exactly were they doing?"
Before he could think further, a strange glow appeared beneath his feet.
Fwoooommm!
A circle of light etched with bizarre symbols materialized, slowly rotating on the ground.
"Eh…?" He looked down, eyes widening as the symbols grew brighter.
A bluish-green radiance surged upward, enveloping his body. He tried to step back, but his feet wouldn't move. His breath caught in his throat.
"What is this… a teleportation spell?" His voice trembled with shock and anger.
The glowing circle flared brighter, its sound rising into a sharp hum.
𝘡zzzhhhiiiinggg!
His body grew lighter, as though being dragged into an invisible storm.
"I'm being taken away?" he gasped, but his voice was swallowed by the light.
In the blink of an eye, the man vanished along with the glow, leaving the alley in silence once more.
It was as if nothing had ever occurred there.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone