Steven, alongside a group of six fellow inmates, stood firm with crude weapons clenched tightly in their hands. Their bodies were tense as they stared ahead, watching the heinous figure of the incredible beast tower high above them. The monster roared continuously, stretching out its elongated neck and snapping its jagged teeth together as though trying to intimidate them into submission.
The crowd, in response to this horrifying display, only broke into louder cheering. Many spectators rose to their feet, clapping and shouting in delight at the splendid entertainment that was about to blossom before their eyes.
Steven swallowed hard.
This was a Shadow Eater—and not just any kind. It was one bearing the rank Dreadling, a monster that could prove overwhelming even for trained Marked, let alone a group of skinny, malnourished inmates barely standing on their feet.
Steven stiffened, his eyes darting around the group beside him. A few of the inmates were visibly terrified, taking hesitant, involuntary steps backward, their grips on their weapons loosening. Others, however, remained steady, their stances low and firm, as though bracing themselves for the beast's inevitable first attack.
He didn't blame any of them.
The strongest rank of Shadow Eater that a mere Marked could barely handle alone was a Spawn. To face a Dreadling, which stood an entire level above that, was near suicide. Beyond rank alone, a Dreadling's physical prowess, speed, and raw brutality far surpassed that of a Spawn.
Steven clenched his jaw.
Looking around, he was unsure if there was any other Marked present aside from himself. That realization caused his expression to tighten even further. With a slow breath, he summoned the system once again.
{Name: Steven… No surname}
{Race: Marked}
{System: Limitless Undead System}
{Talent: Gain x5 upgrade from every undead slain. Copy skills from the dead and make them yours.}
{Physique: 5/20}
{Mana: 10/10}
{Skills Copied: None}
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*Dimension Shop
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Hopefully, his physique being at 5 meant he was stronger than he looked.
Steven hoped so.
As he continued to stand tense, his eyes never once leaving the Dreadling that paced slowly around the stadium—snarling and growling as though deliberately riling up the crowd—a voice suddenly called out from behind him.
"You are a Marked too, right?"
Steven turned slowly, surprise clearly written on his face. Hearing those words here, in the middle of the arena, was the last thing he had expected.
Standing before him was a man around his age. He was clad in far more suitable armor than Steven's tattered attire, with a long sword strapped securely to his waist. He had blonde hair, sharp features, and a face that remained oddly calm—completely unaffected by the oppressive atmosphere of the Colosseum or the monstrous Shadow Eater looming nearby.
Steven didn't reply immediately. Instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly, carefully sizing the man up.
"Are you?" the man asked again, confusion creeping into his voice.
"I am," Steven replied blankly.
At that, the man's lips curled upward in appreciation. "Wow. It was hard to tell. You look just like the slaves from the Colosseum depths. If not for the realm's default system, I wouldn't have known."
Steven frowned.
How comforting.
While he had appeared in this world suspended in midair, forced into the body of a frail, scrawny man that looked half-dead, this other Marked had arrived as a dashing, well-built youth.
What sour luck.
'Damn you, foolish realm.'
"So what's your deal?" Steven asked, his gaze shifting back to the prowling Shadow Eater. Strangely enough, the beast had chosen to continue entertaining the crowd instead of attacking, which only deepened his unease.
As though reading his thoughts, the man answered, "The eater is controlled by Mr. Fat over there." He tilted his head toward the Sea Deity lounging upon its throne, waving its hands theatrically like a ringmaster at a circus.
"And the fight usually doesn't start until a bell sounds," the man continued. "So we've got limited time for a quick chat."
Steven barely acknowledged him, his attention still glued to the monster.
Seeing this, the blonde Marked pressed on. "We both know that's a Dreadling. Alone, we won't last against it." He then gestured to his side, where two girls stood a few meters away. "They're Marked too. I've teamed up with them. Together, we can win this."
Steven turned to look.
One of the girls held a long metal staff, a dark cloak resting against her back, with a dagger secured at her waist. She carried herself calmly, eyes sharp—clearly the mage type. The other had a pair of katanas strapped across her back and wore light armor similar to Steven's, though hers was reinforced just enough to better protect her vital areas.
'More Marked,' he thought.
Originally, he had believed he was the only one trapped in the Colosseum. Though he knew that Marked were often drawn into the same trials, he hadn't expected their circumstances to differ so drastically. While these three struggled to appeal to sponsors for interest, Steven had been forced to fight solely to amuse a single one.
Still, this advantage was something he couldn't afford to ignore.
Alone, he was useless. His abilities couldn't even activate unless he killed something—or someone. As he was now, he was no different from the other slaves in the arena: just another bag of flesh waiting to be torn apart.
After a moment of consideration, Steven nodded.
'Just for now, I'll play along.'
With that, Steven and the blonde man moved to join the others. But the moment they reached the two girls, a loud ringing noise shook the entire arena—deep, metallic, and impossible to ignore.
A sound that could only mean one thing.
Prowl! Prowl!
A thunderous roar erupted from the Shadow Eater's maw, far louder than before. Its eyes locked onto the group of humans, overflowing with immeasurable bloodlust. Without hesitation, the beast lunged forward, claws digging into the ground as it charged with ravenous intent.
The battle… Had begun.
//Author's note//
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