Chapter 88: Chapter 88 : Zipped up

Arthur found himself standing in the middle of a colossal arena.

The colosseum stretched so high it almost scraped the pale, colorless sky. Tier upon tier of stone seating rose upward in a vast circle, packed with vampires.

From children with small, sharp fangs to elderly figures with withered faces and ancient eyes—they filled every seat, their gazes locked on the center.

Most of them were booing.

Hissing.

Throwing insults.

Their voices merged into a chaotic roar, all directed at Arthur.

He glanced to the side.

Olivia stood not far from him, also in the arena. Her hands were still tied with the same strange material as his had been, though she stood upright, her expression tense and wary.

High above, on one side of the colosseum, there was a raised platform.

Only officials loyal to the throne were seated there.

Their attire was more elaborate, their posture more composed. At the center of the platform, a dark throne had been prepared—a smaller version of the one Arthur had seen before in the court.

But it was empty.

Elizabeth wasn’t there.

Not yet.

Then—

A massive door at the edge of the arena burst open with a thunderous sound.

The heavy gates, made of dark metal and covered in strange markings, swung outward.

From the shadowed passage beyond—

Elizabeth entered.

The crowd’s energy shifted instantly.

Cheers.

Shouts of “Your Majesty!”

Kneeling gestures in the higher seats.

She walked forward with unhurried grace, heading straight toward the edge of the arena where Arthur waited.

Her outfit now was different.

She was dressed for battle.

She wore a dark, tight-fitting bodysuit made of a sleek, leather-like material that hugged her curves closely. Over it, pieces of black armor were strapped to her shoulders, forearms, and thighs—each piece edged with crimson patterns resembling veins or blood droplets.

Her midriff was mostly exposed, a strip of pale, flawless skin visible between the upper armor and the lower belt. The armor over her chest was shaped to fit her form perfectly, protective yet undeniably seductive, while her long legs were mostly bare save for high boots that reached mid-thigh, decorated with silver clasps.

A long, dark cloak with a blood-red interior fluttered behind her as she walked, trailing like a liquid shadow.

She stopped a short distance from Arthur.

With a casual flick of her finger—

The bindings around his hands snapped.

They fell to the ground in pieces, dissolving into faint smoke.

Immediately, Arthur felt it.

Mana and qi surged through his body in a wave, flowing freely once more. His limbs felt lighter. His senses sharpened.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

Then his breathing changed.

“Phoenix Breathing…”

He inhaled deeply, letting the technique circulate through his body. Warmth spread through his veins. Little by little, his injuries began to stabilize. The bleeding stopped almost immediately. The crushing fatigue he’d been carrying eased slightly.

His body wasn’t fully healed—

But it was recovering.

Elizabeth watched him with mild interest.

“It’s good,” she said. “But not that impressive.”

Arthur opened his eyes.

“Can we begin now?” he asked.

Elizabeth chuckled softly.

“You sure are impatient,” she said. “But don’t worry… I’ll kill you slowly.”

Her eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.

“So I can watch the defiance in those eyes break,” she continued, “and listen to you beg me to let you live.”

She flicked her finger again.

From a swirl of black fog at the edge of the arena—

A figure of a man appeared, stepping out of the darkness.

Elizabeth raised her hand and extended three fingers.

“I’ll send three of my top favorite fighters,” she said. “If you defeat even one of them—I’ll spare your life.”

Arthur smirked.

“I have another condition,” he replied. “I’ll defeat all three at once.”

He pointed at her.

“And you will come fourth to fight.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly at his audacity.

“This infuriating man…” she muttered under her breath.

She turned around and closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to control her irritation.

Then—

Three vampires stepped into the arena.

The crowd went wild.

Cheers erupted from every direction, fangs bared in excitement.

The first was a man with blond hair, black eyes, and pale white skin. His hair was cut short but neat, and his expression was calm, confident. He wore full armor—dark metal plates covering his chest, shoulders, arms, and legs, with a crimson crest engraved on the chest piece.

A sword hung at his waist, its hilt decorated with a blood-red gem.

His name was Timothi.

One of the best knights serving Elizabeth.

The second was a woman.

She had light brown hair, tied in a high ponytail, and brown eyes that gleamed with cruelty. Her skin was pale like the others, but there was a wildness in her smile.

She wore revealing bikini armor—a minimal black top of reinforced leather that barely covered her chest, held up by thin straps, and a matching bottom with small metal plates attached at the hips.

Her midriff and most of her legs were bare, showing toned muscles and pale skin. Light armor guarded her forearms and shins, more decorative than protective.

She spun a chain-like whip lazily in one hand.

She was a famous fighter in this colosseum.

Whenever Elizabeth wanted someone tortured—

She called her.

Her name was Anna.

She looked at Arthur, smirked, and let her eyes trail contemptuously over his form.

“So this is the human?” Anna asked, voice dripping with mockery. “He looks fragile. I hope he screams nicely when he breaks.”

The third was another man.

He had black hair, slicked back, and black eyes that glowed faintly crimson from within. His pale skin had dark red lines etched across it like veins or tattoos.

He wore a dark robe reinforced with light armor at the shoulders and chest. Around his fingers, thin rings glinted, some stained with a permanent reddish tint.

This was Mario.

A master of blood magic in Elizabeth’s service.

Today, all three of them had the chance to gain immense favor.

If they put on a good show.

If they broke the human quickly.

As they looked at Arthur, there was no hesitation in their eyes.

They were confident.

Certain that the fight would be over in seconds.

Timothi smirked.

“Try not to die too quickly, human,” he said. “I’d like to at least warm up.”

Anna laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she added. “If you kneel and lick the ground, I might go easy on you.”

Mario’s lips twisted into a cold grin.

“A human daring to talk back to Her Majesty…” he said. “Your entire race really is pathetic. Let us show you where you belong.”

Mockery.

Disdain.

From all three.

But Arthur—Only smiled back.

As he ignored the jeers, the killing intent, and even the three vampires in front of him.

He simply started stretching.

Neck.

Shoulders.

Arms.

As if he were warming up for light exercise and not a fight to the death in front of an entire arena of vampires.

Timothi stepped forward, sword at his hip, armor gleaming faintly under the arena’s dark light.

“Let me go first,” Timothi said, glancing at Anna and Mario.

Anna scoffed.

“Why you?” she said. “I want to play with him first.”

Mario folded his arms.

“You two can argue later,” he said. “I’ll end it in one move.”

All three of them took a step toward Arthur at the same time, tension rising between them as they glared at each other.

Arthur sighed.

“There’s no need to fight over it,” he said lazily. “I’ll take the three of you all together.”

He raised his hand and curled his fingers in a taunting gesture.

“Just come already and don’t waste my time.”

Timothi’s jaw clenched.

Veins bulged on the side of his neck.

“We will crush you like an insect,” he snarled, pointing his sword at Arthur. “And I’ll piss on your corpse myself.”

His words spread through the arena.

The vampires in the stands howled and laughed.

Then—

Elizabeth’s voice cut through the noise.

“Let him go first,” she said from above, eyes on Timothi. “If he loses, I’ll kill him myself.”

Timothi’s breath hitched.

He understood immediately.

Now his life was on the line either way.

If he lost—

He would die.

By Arthur’s hands.

Or by Elizabeth’s.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Arthur and Timothi moved to the center of the arena and took their positions.

Arthur rolled his shoulders once.

Then his hands changed.

Black, liquid-like matter began to spread across his arms, crawling from his wrists to his elbows like living ink. It covered his skin completely, forming a dark, armor-like layer.

From his fingers—

Deadly claws formed, long and sharp, gleaming with a faint metallic sheen.

Elizabeth smiled faintly from her throne above.

“He really does have some interesting tricks,” she murmured.

She clapped her hands once.

The sound echoed through the arena.

The fight began.

In the next second—

Timothi’s figure blurred.

He vanished from his spot.

To the untrained eye, it looked like teleportation.

But Arthur could still track him.

Barely.

Timothi’s body moved in a way that bent perception.

He activated his technique.

“Frame Shift,” he whispered under his breath.

To him—

Time seemed to split into frames.

Each movement, each step, each breath—

Broke into individual segments.

He moved in the empty space between those frames, slipping into positions where the eye could not follow. To his opponent, it would look like several afterimages appearing all at once, each one mimicking a different possibility of his movement.

To the crowd—

It looked like multiple Timothis were attacking at the same time.

To Arthur—

It was like watching reality stutter.

His eyes narrowed.

Timothi appeared at Arthur’s flank—

Then in front of him—

Then behind him—

Each position only lasting a fraction of a moment.

’He can split my reaction time…’ Arthur thought. ’For most people, they’d never recognize the real one.’

Timothi’s sword flashed.

He appeared directly in front of Arthur, bringing his blade down in a clean, lethal strike aimed at Arthur’s neck.

From Timothi’s perspective—

Arthur was still moving in slow motion.

His expression hadn’t even finished changing.

’I won,’ Timothi thought.

The edge of his sword reached Arthur’s throat.

Just one inch away.

Then—

SCHLK.

Arthur’s arm moved.

Faster than Timothi expected.

Faster than his technique had accounted for.

In that instant—

Everyone in the arena saw it.

Arthur’s clawed hand pierced straight through Timothi’s chest.

The black symbiote-covered arm punched through armor and flesh as if it were paper. The claws emerged from Timothi’s back, dripping with blood.

Timothi’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Before he could even scream—

Arthur’s other hand shot up.

His claws dug into Timothi’s eyes.

Timothi let out an inhuman scream as his vision exploded into pain and darkness.

Arthur twisted his wrist.

Then he snapped Timothi’s neck with a brutal jerk and crushed his heart in the same motion, fingers closing around the still-beating organ and turning it into pulp.

Timothi’s body went limp.

Arthur pulled his arm free and let the corpse fall.

The armored knight hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Lifeless.

All of it—

Had happened in the span of a few seconds.

The arena fell completely silent.

Every vampire—

Mouth open.

Eyes wide.

Even Elizabeth’s smile froze for a moment.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

And then—

Arthur did something none of them had ever expected.

He calmly reached for his pants.

Unzipped them.

And started peeing on Timothi’s corpse.

Silence turned into sheer disbelief.

Olivia stared at him like he had lost his mind.

The officials above nearly stood up in shock.

Countless vampires in the stands recoiled.

Arthur finished.

Zipped his pants back up.

He looked down at the corpse.

“There,” he said, voice loud enough for the whole arena to hear. “I fulfilled all your wishes.”

He raised his head and looked directly at Elizabeth.

“And proved who the insect really was.”

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