Return Of The Strongest Player

"Fucking hell…" 

A rather hoarse voice reverberated across the arena, striking terror into the hearts of the players. Flames burst at that voice, the ground shaking with much intensity as the creature stepped forth.

With a wrinkly, crimson body that had defined muscles, along with only a pair of ripped shorts covering its lower body, it was safe to say that the creature was rather unique.

With sharp, stark black horns that protruded from its forehead, along with an expression of annoyance as it spat on the ground, the creature flicked its wrist, washing away its dark blood-covered body.

Casting a sidelong glance at his surroundings, the creature cocked its head. "Where the fuck am I?"

This was somewhat akin to Hell, but not nearly as intense. It was like a mild, quite pitiful set designed to mimic Hell. The creature sneered, mocking those who had the nerve to try to imitate the appearance of its home.

One could sense the existence of 100 Beast Marks on its body, indicating it was merely a single Beast Mark away from becoming a Novice Beast.

As his gaze swept across the arena, it eventually landed upon five figures; namely, the five players designed to face it. For an unknown reason, the Devil suddenly felt a surge of hostility, inciting a dreadful reaction.

It rushed forward, unfurling its stark black, leather-like wings that flapped, releasing a downward thrust in order to maintain flight.

From its body spilled flames, enshrouding the arena in vibrant hues that symbolized death and destruction rather than cheeriness. Without warning, the Devil shot down toward the five players, trying to take them down in one swoop.

At that moment, a clicking sensation reverberated across the arena, following the advance of a black flash.

Bob–the old man–hovered in the air beyond the Devil, his sword still in its sheathe.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, having witnessed the entire process. Bob rushed forward, bursting diagonally before unsheathing, slashing, and then sheathing his sword in a matter of milliseconds, to the point where the naked eye was unable to view, and the human brain was unable to comprehend.

It was fast, indeed.

However, it wasn't very precise or destructive, as it only delivered a shallow gash on the Devil's arm.

It definitely disturbed the Devil's trajectory, though, as the flying creature crashed onto the ground, black blood leaking from his wounds. However, wasting no time, it avoided Bob's second strike, grasping the old man's head.

"A mere human…" The Devil muttered in disgust, gazing upon the appearance of the creature he considered disgusting. The smirk enshrouding the old man's face was unsettling, however, as it caused the Devil's stomach to tie into a knot.

Slap!

Bob released himself from the Devil's grip, twirling his body before landing a kick on the latter's face.

"Are you people going to help?" Bob inquired, flashing a glare at the other four. Jimmy, Lisa, and Jin-Woo unsheathed their weapons, rushing toward the Devil with murderous intent oozing from their bodies.

The Devil–at that moment–released a deafening roar, causing the ears of the players to buzz. At that moment, dark splotches of strictly condensed energy swirled across the arena floor, through which an amethyst glow burst.

Suddenly, hundreds of skeletons crawled through.

'As they say, a Devil and a Beast–at the same level–are never equal,' Arthur thought. 'A Devil will always triumph. Comparing a Beast and Devil is stupidity.'

'This is akin to a 200 Beast Mark Dark Beast, at least.'

With his eyes flashing with amusement, Arthur continued spectating, unwilling to interfere in order to test the capabilities of his teammates. It was uncertain whether he'd be of any help in the future, but he at least wished to see what he was working with.

Jin-Woo wore a dark hoodie, a thick hood draped over his head of lengthy hair. His expression remained apathetic as he wielded the dark daggers in his hands, releasing wisps of darkness from each strike.

Jimmy–the dark-haired youth–wore a loose tank top that highlighted his toned muscles that were drenched in sweat. With erratic breathing displaying his lack of stamina, and a silver rapier that released a dazzling gleam, he continued to battle the Devil.

Lisa–a youthful woman with similar, dark hair–seemed to be one of the–if not the most–skilled out of the group. With narrowed, focused eyes and an effective stance, she swung her longsword efficiently, taking advantage of openings.

Her breathing was controlled, while her fighting style was based on utilizing tiny openings in one's style.

Finally, Bob–the old man–wielded a thin sword Arthur couldn't name. His fighting style depended heavily on speed, and although he was one of the most skilled, he lacked precision a hint of destructive power, which made his achievements obsolete.

If one couldn't actually deliver wounds on one's foe, what was the use of speed?

However, Bob was a veteran in the tower, which allowed him to fully utilize his surroundings, and compose tactics none of the greenhorns could think of. Instead of using trial and error, Bob possessed enough experience to directly rule out tactics that would and wouldn't work.

Of course, such an ability was vital to survive within the tower, but Arthur placed the ability of insight above the benefit of experience.

Instead of simply memorizing what would happen, and acting accordingly, what mattered to Arthur was if one could use the same methods without such experience, solely through their understanding of the subject.

To have insights without having undergone the specific situation.

"Humans… Mere creatures that survive without the power of nature… Neither belonging to that side nor this side… Hypocrites that only feed off of this tower…"

The Devil's words were laced with hostility, as if he had a blood-feud with all of humanity. His words struck a cord for the other four players, causing rage and indignation to surface as a result of their negative thoughts.

Arthur shook his head, pitying the players. To be entrapped by a Devil's words–whether they be sweet or bitter–was akin to begging for death.

Even if the four wouldn't immediately lose themselves, as the Devil began encroaching into their bubbles, their resistance would eventually crumble. To trust the words of a Devil was utter stupidity.

'Then again, it's not wrong,' Arthur clicked his tongue. 'That's why it's so effective. All of humanity–at least in the tower–is a bunch of hypocrites that actively work to destroy nature in order to become more powerful.'

To manipulate using the truth was more effective than a web of lies.

Bob gritted his teeth, recalling the instances in which his life was in danger. Filled with uncontrolled rage at the death of his comrades, he released a mass explosion of a vibrant, yellow energy, encompassing the surroundings in the particular tint.

The others backed off, allowing the energy to engulf the Devil.

Screams resounded from within as Bob let out a sigh of defeat, his breathing erratic and his mind jumbled. For a split second, his mind had been corroded by thoughts he would never entertain.

Amidst a battle that concerned his life, his focus was on the past rather than the present.

As a seasoned warrior, he was aware of the consequences of such behavior, if recurring. It could effectively get the best of him, destroying his will to fight and allowing him to succumb to his foe.

'A Devil's words…'

'Their sharpest weapon is not a blade, but a tongue.'

Bob extinguished the power coating his thin sword.

But at that moment, darkness burst from the yellow, engulfing it in its entirety. Bob's expression distorted as a spike oozing with a toxic, liquid substance shot towards his eye, following a predetermined path.

Leaving a trail of pure, untouched darkness, the spike traveled at a terrifying pace. 

The yellow energy vanished, replaced by a dark liquid with a rather displeasing, squalid scent. The world seemed to slow down. 

Even Arthur had trouble following the spike. His hands were tied, and he also wanted to witness what the old man would do in such a situation. He rushed towards Bob, but not with the intention of blocking the spike.

Suddenly, a force of attraction caught his fancy, causing him to turn to face the dark-haired youth.

Blood escaped his eye as he held his hair up. A mix of mysterious purple and a refined golden color swirled across eyeball, dying his sclera and pupil in the particular hue. Jimmy assumed a pained expression while desperately attempting to keep his eye open.

A blinding light burst from Jimmy's body, along with the spike. They both burst into golden lightning before switching places.

Jimmy stood barely a few meters away from Bob–who stared at the former with a terrified expression plastered across his face. Thunder still crackled around the former's body, providing him with a dominant glow.

The black spike shot past the players, embedding itself into a nearby wall before exploding into dark particles, leaking an incredibly toxic substance.

"...T–Thank you…"

Bob managed to mutter.