Tars walked slowly toward the exit, the gate that led to the arena floor where the crowd's expectations hung heavy in the air. He looked down, tracing the myriad marks left upon the passage: stones polished smooth by countless boots, blackened bloodstains, and the gouges left by axes and swords. This tunnel held the residue of hundreds of years—the echoes of those who marched out hoping to prove their courage in blood, and the terror of death-row prisoners forced to face beasts or men against their will.

  The red-nosed manager had cleared the pit with remarkable speed; of the beast Aiskin and Big Dumb Hum had defeated, only a few shattered spinal spikes remained on the sand.

  Tars found himself savoring the experience. As he stepped out into the circular arena, the spectators instinctively erupted in cheers. Most of them had no idea who he was or why he stood there, but the spectacle was enough.

  When he reached the center and came to a halt, the raspy-voiced apprentice did exactly as he expected: she leaped directly from the noble balcony. This flamboyant display ignited a fresh roar of approval from the audience.

  Tars curled his lip slightly as he watched her land with feline grace. Feather-fall? Who can't do that! he thought.

  "May I see your true face?" the woman asked, coming to a stop before him and studying him intently.

  Tars knew she had been observing him closely from the balcony. It wasn't an attraction to his looks; rather, she had noted the protruding bone structure beneath his face covering and guessed at the truth. As an apprentice obsessed with biological modification, her curiosity was likely clawing at her.

  "Add twenty of these lovely little things," he said with a chuckle, producing a large-grade mana stone of the type Baunte had once given him. He tossed it in his hand. "That's two thousand standard mana stones. Add them to the wager, and if I lose, you can look to your heart’s content."

  The woman's brow furrowed, but to his surprise, she gave a slow nod of agreement.

  With a flick of her cloak, she revealed a row of breeding pouches at her waist. She tapped them one by one, and a series of grotesque creatures materialized in the arena. The only normal-looking thing among them was a small black cat, which leaped nimbly onto her shoulder.

  "These are my nine proudest works. I hope you are someone who can appreciate them," the woman said. "That way, when you are defeated, you won't feel bitter—only that they were showcasing a rare achievement to you. Perhaps you will even find inspiration in it."

  Tars was momentarily stunned. It was the equivalent of someone beating you senseless and then telling you to be grateful for the martial arts lesson.

  He scanned the nine monstrosities, excluding the little black cat licking its paws on her shoulder. One of them, a bear-like creature, was clearly not a purely biological modification, as its body was encrusted with heavy metal plates.

  However, these were not puppets; they possessed their own minds. Because of this, Tars felt no fear.

  "I thank you for your generosity," Tars replied with genuine sincerity.

  Amidst the screams of the crowd, the nine monstrosities lunged toward him. The woman, however, took two steps back, showing no intention of joining the fray.

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  Tars maintained an air of casual calm, his Stenchful Skin already active. He didn't understand the intricacies of true wizard combat yet, but based on his experience as an apprentice, he believed that battles at this level were contests of information and luck. Whoever possessed an unexpected method unknown to the other would win in an instant. Conversely, once your trump cards were exposed, you were likely to lose.

  The woman was clearly an apprentice who had poured all her energy into modification. Her confidence stemmed from the fact that even if her specialty was known, the diverse abilities of her nine creatures would keep an enemy guessing. But Tars was the exception. He didn't need to guess or counter them individually; he could drop them all at once. Better yet, he could do it in a way that left her utterly baffled. He sometimes felt his methods were quite a spectacle—elegant and high-end in their execution.

  Of course, if someone knew his secret, they could counter him with alchemical golems or ways to ward off "Malice."

  As the crowd gasped, he took a leisurely step forward. The two insectoid modifications leading the charge collapsed instantly, paralyzed.

  The woman's brow tightened into a deep frown as she watched, her expression turning somber. She was clearly trying to decipher the method he was using.

  For safety's sake, Tars had layered Mana-Skin and Mental Boiling upon himself before entering the arena. He only refrained from using the overly conspicuous Demonic Body.

  With a faint smile, he suddenly sprinted forward.

  A mental shockwave erupted from the modifications flanking him. Tars's silhouette faltered for a second as a wave of dizziness washed over him, but it was futile. His high affinity and solidified spells allowed him to maintain Stenchful Skin even in his sleep. His dense, refined mental energy allowed him to recover almost instantly, and the creature that had attempted the sneak attack promptly keeled over.

  He let out a hearty laugh as he charged toward the woman.

  One by one, the modifications he passed or those trying to flank him fell for no apparent reason. The woman's forehead was now knotted with confusion. Her nine creatures, each with distinct abilities, had been neutralized before they could even display their power.

  The entire Arena fell into an eerie, miraculous silence following the initial shock.

  The woman stopped her retreat and looked at him with profound gravity. He also slowed his pace, walking toward her one step at a time.

  "Shall we continue?" he asked, his feet never stopping.

  She squinted, looking him up and down. "A modification spell with extremely high affinity?" she guessed.

  Tars smiled but said nothing, continuing his approach. The range of his Stenchful Skin was nearly upon her.

  Meow! The little black cat let out a sharp, piercing shriek. For such a small creature, the sound was soul-shaking.

  Tars wasn't intimidated. Seeing his opening, he lunged forward, intending to pull the woman and her annoying cat into the influence of his aura. The black cat sprang from her shoulder, but she caught it, pinning it down.

  "I admit defeat."

  As she spoke, she tossed a storage bag toward him. Tars stopped and caught it with a smile. Inside were the agreed-upon mana stones and a sealed, etched bottle of Soul-Heart Elixir. After confirming the contents, he transferred them to his own space and tossed the bag back.

  Before he could speak, the black cat shrieked again—a sound so wretched and shrill that it managed to squirm out of the woman's hands.

  Its form flickered like a shadow as it pounced on the fallen modifications. Every creature it touched seemed to rise unsteadily. They didn't seek revenge on Tars; instead, they huddled together and lined up before the cat as if waiting to be fed—except they were the ones being consumed. The tiny cat let out a cry and swallowed one after another, its mouth seemingly acting as a spatial portal.

  The cat's black body began to shift, becoming a mass of struggling shadows that momentarily flickered with the silhouette of a giant dragon.

  "Disobedient again!"

  The woman appeared beside the cat and swatted it. The shadow dissipated as she grabbed the small black cat by the scruff of its neck. The modifications that had seemingly been swallowed reappeared in the pit as the shadows shattered, perfectly intact and alive. Tars watched with fascination; he hadn't interfered not just because she had surrendered, but because he had wanted to see what would happen next.