Adder walked to the front of the tavern.

The fat bartender looked at his clothes and said out loud, "It’s rare for someone like you to come here, lad."

Adder took the empty seat and smiled. "Give me your regular."

The bartender slid a large beer mug toward him. "20 copper, lad."

Adder flicked a silver coin across the counter without breaking eye contact. The coin spun once before the bartender caught it midair.

"Keep the change."

Adder lifted the cup to his mouth, though he didn’t drink immediately.

The bartender stared wide-eyed at the silver coin in his palm. Even a few half-awake drunks nearby turned to look at him.

"Bold for a lad in rags," the bartender muttered while wiping the counter with a dirty cloth.

Adder finally took a small sip.

Bitter.

He instantly spat it back into the cup, barely stopping himself from coughing.

Ding!

[Low dose of Poison detected.]

A stinging pain spread across his tongue as his passive skill activated.

Adder quietly placed the mug back down. There was no point in drinking further. Just like in his past life, the skill would cleanse the alcohol before it could affect him.

It was annoying, but he was already used to it.

Once again, he noticed a couple of men dragging someone toward the basement.

Adder pointed at them. "What’s up with them?"

The bartender froze midway through cleaning the counter.

A moment later, he resumed wiping as if nothing had happened.

"Basement’s not for customers."

Adder lightly tapped the cup. "I’m not a normal customer."

The bartender snorted. "Lad, the basement isn’t for someone still wearing rags."

Adder didn’t react. He simply placed another silver coin on the table and tapped it once. "Oh? Don’t tell me I need a dress code to go down there."

The bartender glanced at the coin, then at Adder.

This time, he stared for an extra second.

"First time in the city?"

Adder smiled faintly. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah," the bartender said flatly. "Because the ones asking about the basement on their first day usually end up down there as meat."

Adder shrugged. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I walk down there on my own feet instead of getting dragged."

The bartender stared at him for a moment before instantly snatching the coin away.

Then he slammed his hand against the table.

Three quick knocks.

Then two slow ones.

The bartender jerked his chin toward the back. "Door behind the storage racks. Knock twice, pause, then once. If you mess it up, they’ll break your legs before asking questions."

Adder stood up while lifting the mug.

"One more thing," the bartender added.

Adder paused.

"Down there... watch a couple of rounds first. Then decide."

Adder gave a small nod before walking toward the wooden door.

...

He was slightly taken aback by the massive storage room.

It was packed with crates, barrels, and random supplies. A couple of drunk workers were passed out in the corners.

A narrow path stretched through the center of the room.

At the far end stood another door blocking a downward staircase.

Unlike the tavern door, this one was made of thick black wood reinforced with iron hinges. There was no handle on the outside.

Adder followed the bartender’s instructions and knocked.

Two taps.

Pause.

One tap.

A second passed.

Then another.

The door creaked open just enough for a single eye to peer through the gap.

A thick voice came from the other side.

"Name."

"Adder."

"Purpose."

"Money."

The eye studied him for another moment.

Then the door opened fully.

"Go down. Don’t touch anything unless told."

Adder calmly walked down the staircase.

Halfway down, loud cheers echoed upward.

This was different from the chaos of the market.

It was louder.

Heavier.

Like the roar of a beast.

A few more steps gave him a full view.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Adder instinctively increased his pace.

Not long after, he stepped into a massive underground arena lit by hundreds of lava torches.

The place was shaped like an inverted cone. Large stone stairs descended toward a crude circular fighting pit in the center.

Wooden railings surrounded the pit, while the arena itself was packed with people.

Some sat close to the edge, screaming at the fighters below.

Higher up were massive gambling stalls, crowded with people clutching betting slips, laughing at victories or cursing their losses.

Further above sat quieter figures observing everything from afar.

The staircase from the tavern opened roughly in the middle section near the gambling area.

Inside the pit, two men were fighting.

No weapons.

Only fists.

One fighter was already covered in blood, barely able to stand.

The other drove a knee into his stomach.

The crowd exploded.

"Finish him!"

"Break him!"

"Ten more if you snap his arm!"

Adder noticed a row of guards standing near the opposite side of the arena, protecting a group of wealthy-looking spectators.

He also spotted multiple guild players scattered across the stands, many working alongside the arena organizers.

Especially around the gambling booths.

Most of the people here looked like they belonged to the slums.

This was the infamous underground heart of Dulkami City.

The Meat Arena.

Someone suddenly spoke beside him.

"First time?"

Adder glanced sideways at a thin man with sharp eyes and a crooked smile. The guy casually flipped a copper coin between his fingers while staring at the ongoing fight.

"Yeah," Adder nodded.

The man grinned. "You picked the right day. A new batch just joined the arena."

The coin vanished into his sleeve as he extended his hand. "Clinch. Been around this place for years."

Adder shook his hand. "Adder."

Clinch suddenly pointed toward the gambling booth. "Come on. The odds for the next fight are about to be revealed."

As if on cue, the standing fighter grabbed the other man’s arm and twisted it like a twig.

Crack!

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Adder turned toward Clinch, only to see the guy grinning at him as if saying, See?

Just then, a loud announcement echoed across the arena.

"Next match! A first-timer versus the two-time winner from the House of Mizinc!"

Clinch clicked his tongue. "Cheh. Waste of time."

The announcer shouted again. "Odds for the newcomer are seven-to-one!"

Adder raised an eyebrow at the high odds, but just like Clinch, most people showed little excitement.

Clinch explained, "The fighter from Mizinc has the Monk class. The newbie won’t survive ten minutes."

Adder’s expression shifted slightly.

Monk was a decent class.

For someone with that class to fight here voluntarily, the rewards had to be worthwhile.

He stared at the arena with interest as a massive six-foot-tall man entered from one side.

A section of the crowd immediately started chanting.

"Monk! Monk! Monk!"

From the opposite side, a smaller figure walked into the arena wearing a hood.

The moment the hood dropped, Adder sucked in a deep breath. ’Fuck... my luck.’

He rubbed his eyes, but there was no mistake.

It was the same player from the ritual cave. The Devil Spawn.

At that exact moment, a commotion broke out near one of the gambling booths.

The Saintess was arguing with a bookmaker while attracting countless stares.

She had apparently bet an entire gold coin on her partner.

Adder clenched his jaw. ’Shit... with them here.’

His eyes instinctively drifted toward the staircase behind him.

Clinch seemed to notice and asked, "You know them?"

Adder was about to deny it when he suddenly froze.

’Am I running again?’

Fragments from his past life flashed through his mind.

The fear.

The hesitation.

The countless times he chose to retreat instead of fighting for what could have been his.

All of it overlapped with the image of him staring at the exit.

Adder slowly sighed. "I almost made the same mistake again."

Clinch tilted his head. "Sorry?"

Adder only smiled before turning back toward the arena.

The crowd exploded again as the massive monk slammed his fists together.

"Ten seconds!"

"Break the newbie!"

"Rip his head off!"

The Devil Spawn calmly walked toward the center of the pit.

Slow.

Relaxed.

As if none of this mattered.

Adder stared at him without blinking.

Then he suddenly asked, "What level is the monk?"

Clinch shrugged. "Probably somewhere in the thirties."

"Thirties..." Adder clicked his tongue. "It won’t even last ten seconds."

Clinch nodded absentmindedly, not understanding what Adder meant.

The referee finally raised his hand.

"Fight!"

Instead of charging, the monk casually cracked his neck and grinned. "Kid, you can still kneel and beg."

The Devil Spawn stopped walking.

Then he smiled.

A wild smile.

For the briefest moment, Adder saw it again.

That same emotionless gaze from inside the ritual cave.

The monk remained standing there while the crowd kept shouting, completely unaware that the fight was already over.

Even Clinch sucked in a cold breath. "...What kind of monster did they bring in here?"

The Devil Spawn turned around and snapped his fingers.

The monk instantly collapsed onto the ground, eyes rolled white.

Silence.

Before anyone could react, the Devil Spawn had already walked out of the arena.