Beginning with Orc Elder Behera’s declaration of war, the opening stage of the Racial Duels became a chaotic melee. But the fierce fighting did not last long. One race of lunatics ignored the Arena’s customs and had no fear of earning the other races’ hatred.

The orcs’ green madness appalled the other five races.

The fighters were certain of one thing. If they fought those lunatics to the bitter end, then regardless of victory or defeat, at least dozens—perhaps hundreds—of fighters would meet their ends here. Not one fighter here wanted such a meaningless end.

The Endless Duel was a contest for those who had proven themselves.

In other words, most of the fighters here had more to lose than to gain. No one was willing to fight those mad green monsters, who had no fear of death, merely to defend their race’s pride. Besides, wasn’t this the Racial Duels, the first contest of the Endless Duel and the one with the paltriest rewards? They still had two more duels ahead of them. Risking their lives here would be utterly stupid.

“Come on! Fight me!”

Yes.

Only orcs, whose brains were steeped in fighting, would do something that stupid. As the orc’s roar thundered through the forest, the fighters of all five other races scattered toward the outskirts of the Pitch-Black Forest.

And so the arrangement of the six races within this battleground, the Pitch-Black Forest, became simple. The orcs occupied the center, while the other five races divided up the outer regions. As though they had reached an unspoken agreement, those five races fought only one another, never challenging the orcs entrenched in the center.

The reason was simple.

Losing to another race meant a little wounded pride and elimination. Losing to an orc meant death. You wouldn’t be eliminated from the duel—you’d be eliminated from life. Worse, those crazy orc bastards were psychopaths who, once a fight began, would finish their opponents off whether they surrendered or not...

“This has turned into a more interesting picture than I expected.”

With that perception firmly rooted in everyone’s minds, the orcs were holding a place among the leaders of the Racial Duels without even fighting the other races. The spectators watching the broadcast found the sight intriguing.

“They’ve bought themselves time without the other races keeping them in check.”

“Winning without fighting. At times like this, it’s hard to believe people call orcs ignorant. Haven’t they naturally ended up in the most advantageous position?”

While the other races fought, the orcs had become opponents no one stood to gain anything from provoking. Aside from the initial clash, their numbers had not diminished at all. Despite being the first to step forward and draw attention, they had become the race managing the contest most safely. Meanwhile, the five races that had scattered to save their own skins were clashing with one another, rapidly thinning their ranks.

“Bold strategies like that are precisely why the orcs have won the Racial Duels more often than anyone else. They may be an ignorant lot, but they’re no fools when it comes to fighting. They were born to win, and they live to win.”

“Yes, orcs instinctively know how to win.”

“Let’s see how the other races are doing.”

The five scattered races waged guerrilla warfare on the outskirts of the Pitch-Black Forest. After the initial melee, that was the form the Racial Duels took.

And as the five races clashed, a frontrunner emerged among them.

“The elves certainly dominate this sort of fighting.”

Elves.

The elves distinguished themselves most in the guerrilla warfare among the five races. Born in the forest and spending their entire lives there, they proved beyond doubt why they were known as the finest hunters of all the races.

“Who could beat an elf in a forest in the first place?”

“Quite right.”

Facing an elf in the forest was like jumping into the sea naked to fight a shark. Of the seven races, they had lived in forests the longest. These children of the forest, born of the great World Tree, felled fighters one after another as though toying with children. Their victims were eliminated without even knowing how they had been brought down or where the attacks had come from.

Watching the fighters fall so helplessly, one could almost think this round of the Racial Duels was dull. The outcome seemed to have been decided already.

Indeed, some spectators said as much.

“The orcs or elves will win. It’s obvious without even watching.”

“This is boring as hell.”

But few agreed with them.

“Is this your first time watching the Endless Duel?”

Because...

“The Racial Duels haven’t even begun yet, you shortsighted fools.”

The spectators who had watched countless past contests knew.

“Shut your mouths and watch. Then you’ll understand exactly why this contest is called the Racial Duels.”

The curtain had not even risen on the contest yet.

“What do you mean...?”

“The orcs were simply the first to bare their teeth, and the elves were the next.”

“...”

“None of the continent’s seven races is inherently superior or inferior to the others. They simply possess different kinds of teeth. Soon the other races will bare theirs as well.”

Yes, this was no ordinary duel.

“It’s gotten quite dark. Night has fallen.”

The contest they were watching was the Racial Duels.

“It seems we already know who will bare their teeth next.”

* * *

With night upon us, we kept moving without rest, following Seolyun’s advice.

“There is one thing I’m curious about, though.”

“What is it?”

“I heard the Racial Duels take place over several days. From the sound of it, we’ll be fighting for at least three. Do we have to spend all that time without sleep just because of the Demonkin?”

That was far too harsh.

Even if a path granted superhuman power, our bodies would not function properly after such a forced march. The other fighters would be no different from us.

Seolyun answered my question.

“Yes. Even if it lasts five days or a week rather than three, you’d be better off not sleeping. Everyone else will probably do the same.”

“Why go that far...?”

“You’re asking that because you don’t know about Demonkin.”

With an indifferent expression, Seolyun gave me an unequivocal warning.

“If you accidentally nod off even once, you’ll bitterly regret not listening to me.”

“...”

“Sleeping at night where there are Demonkin is no different from throwing yourself into a pit of fire. Really.”

Seolyun did not explain the specifics.

Following her, I asked Liam.

“Do you know about Demonkin too, Master?”

「I know them sickeningly well.」

“Then is Seolyun’s warning justified?”

Liam hummed thoughtfully for a moment at my question.

Then he answered.

「Young descendant.」

“Yes?”

「If you’re curious about hell, feel free to try getting some sleep.」

“...”

Those words drove every trace of drowsiness away.

* * *

Seolyun and I were heading for the outer regions. Our strategy was to circle the very edge, observe how things were unfolding, and then act. But reaching the outskirts of the Pitch-Black Forest was not a smooth journey.

“... They’re fighting fiercely.”

On the outskirts of the Pitch-Black Forest, fighters were battling over their respective territories. Guerrilla warfare among the five races other than the orcs. My Suspicion quickly discerned why things had taken this shape.

‘A snowball the orcs set rolling.’

After Orc Elder Behera declared war, the other races gave up on confronting the orcs. Fighting an orc meant staking your life. Those mad green monsters neither feared death nor hesitated to kill other fighters. Thus, anyone who valued their life ruled out fighting the orcs from the outset.

As a result, all five remaining races chose the same option, fighting to push one another out and claim the outskirts. In truth, this development was not particularly bad for them. Defeat in this guerrilla warfare meant only wounded pride and elimination, whereas defeat against the orcs in the center meant death.

‘The orcs’ strategy was powerful.’

Whether it was a strategy or sheer madness, one thing was certain.

The orcs had exerted tremendous influence over the Racial Duels.

Now they could gain an advantage simply by staying put in the center. The victory condition might be capturing the king, but ultimately, the more able-bodied fighters you had in this battle, the better your position. In a team contest like this, numbers were power.

In other words, however violent their opening had been, the orcs had ended up managing the contest most safely of all six races.

‘The elves are performing best in the guerrilla warfare.’

The elves, known as the children of the forest, had proven exactly why they were called master hunters. Watching their astonishing performance, I realized the elf I had defeated was young—nothing more than a mediocre elf. Had a truly formidable elf ambushed us, Seolyun and I would have woken up in the recovery room.

As goose bumps prickled down my spine, Seolyun spoke.

“Draw your sword, Little Gladiator.”

“Pardon?”

“From here on, it’ll be difficult for us to move in hiding too.”

After hearing her words, I extended my path in every direction. It soon detected countless presences. At the same time, I felt unmistakable hostility directed at us.

“We have no choice but to break through.”

“I agree.”

“Little Gladiator.”

“I’m listening.”

Tightening her grip on her sword, Seolyun said,

“If things look dangerous, reveal that you’re the king immediately. Then the other human fighters will help you at once. Anyone who’s made it here is sure to be useful.”

“...”

“If you don’t do it, I will. As I keep telling you, you don’t get to die on a whim. I intend to stay with you to the very end.”

Had someone else said that, my heart might almost have fluttered.

But Seolyun said it without the slightest change in her expression.

At her serious words, I nodded.

“Yes. I’ll survive.”

At that moment, intense killing intent poured in from every direction, as sharp as an awl stabbing into me.

And then...

『I vowed that nothing would sweep me away.』

With it, Gale’s memories surged powerfully upward.

『What did I need in order not to be swept away?』

『After much deliberation, I reached a conclusion.』

The sword’s voice echoed through my head like a growl.

『I must be bound by nothing.』

『Just as no leash can tether the wind.』

『Just as no prison can dare confine the wind.』

『I decided to become a more perfect wind.』

At the same time, the countless gazes and strands of killing intent directed at me began to disappear. The sounds of battle pouring in around me, the fighters’ roars, and the stench of blood faded as though evaporating.

I slowly closed my eyes.

It feels as though everything except me has vanished.

It felt as though I alone remained in this world.

『The wind must be free.』

Gale’s voice, echoing in my mind, grew thunderous. Then wind pouring in from every direction touched my skin. The wind against my skin traced countless paths in my mind. These were not the paths a sword walker saw. These were the wind’s paths.

Absolute paths created as every current in the world collided and intertwined. Flows that arose inevitably. The moment I sensed them, I swung the sword in my hand.

The blade I swung was not aimed at my enemies.

Instead, it traced a curve, gracefully slicing through empty air as though performing a sword dance.

The next moment, I opened my eyes.

“...!”

Countless fighters stood before me, their eyes wide with astonishment.

The varied weapons they held were tangled together in disarray. At the heart of that tangle was the sword in my hand. Looking at them, I twisted my blade once.

The wind blew, and the tangled weapons flew apart in every direction with a violent metallic clatter. As though a gale had blown in from somewhere.

* * *

‘... Another strange trick.’

Watching Arhan wield Gale, Seolyun marveled inwardly. From the moment he grasped his sword, he became an entirely different person. Briefly, Arhan became a wandering swordsman wearing a conical hat. And that wandering swordsman’s swordplay was so wondrous that even Seolyun struggled to understand it.

But she could not devote all her attention to Arhan’s sword.

“Whew.”

Seolyun, too, had to overcome this situation.

Sword in hand, she fought the fighters surging toward her. Her beautiful swordplay had an unmistakably Eastern character, different from Arhan’s. With a single swing of the sword in her hand, Seolyun traced the yin-yang symbol.

Following the trajectory she traced, the weapons thrust at her were knocked aside helplessly. At the same time, their openings gleamed like points of light in her eyes. Paths connected those gleaming openings to the tip of her blade. In that instant, Seolyun’s sword shot out like lightning and pierced their vital points.

“What the—”

It was a feat she had created by combining the Eastern swordsmanship she had learned with the Needle Arhan had shown her. An ultrafast thrust following one perfect defense. It was simple yet ingenious swordplay.

“Whew.”

Unless someone was at the level of a sword runner, defeating Seolyun in an exchange of sword attacks and defenses was impossible in the first place. Her genius shone so brilliantly that even Liam acknowledged it, and her swordsmanship was refined enough to far surpass Arhan’s.

But...

“Fire!”

The contest unfolding here was the Racial Duels.

“Set them off! All of them!”

Not every race used swords. The races spread across the continent had each honed their own weapons to survive. Some of those weapons could be called rather cowardly.

For example...

“We don’t need to bring them down ourselves! It’s nighttime!”

Scattering a toxic substance into the air over every fighter locked in fierce combat—a substance that entered the respiratory system and induced extreme drowsiness.

Simply put, an act of terror using sleeping powder.

“You fucking dwarf bastards!”

“Cover your noses! Breathe in even a little and you’re f***ed—”

That was a strategy the dwarves favored.

A vile but undeniably effective weapon they had refined over their long history to survive in the Sky Mountains. A cowardly tool crafted by the artisans with the finest dexterity of all seven races.

“You f**ing bastards! You duel like sht!”

“Thanks for the compliment, you idiots!”

To dwarves, who considered cowardice a strategy too, any amount of abuse sounded like high praise. And so, as whitish powder swept across the battlefield like fog, several fighters who had inhaled it began to nod off on their feet, drool dribbling from their mouths.

‘... Damn—’

Seeing that, Seolyun disengaged her blade and hurriedly stepped backward. The moment she covered her nose and mouth, a horrific scream erupted nearby.

“Aaaagh!”

It was far too terrible a voice to have come from a living creature’s mouth. A grotesque scream beyond description. A sound that stirred revulsion deep within the heart. The instant Seolyun heard it, she knew.

‘Demonkin...’

The nobles of the night had graced them with their presence.

Now that they had appeared, normal combat could no longer continue. Frowning, Seolyun looked around at her surroundings, filled with whitish powder.

‘Where’s the Little Gladiator?’

Had Arhan, who had been fighting fiercely, managed to handle this sudden turn of events?

She could not tell. As always, once he began fighting, Arhan became far too absorbed in his sword. In that state, he might not have responded appropriately to this situation. So Seolyun urgently searched for him.

And then...

‘...?’

Seolyun saw a rather strange sight.

‘What...is that?’

The whitish powder scattered all around.

Drifting like fog, it was gathering around a single point.

No, it was spinning.

As though caught in a whirlwind.

For some reason, Seolyun stared blankly at the strange phenomenon for a moment.

And as she watched it, she saw one more thing.

‘The Little Gladiator...’

At the center of the whirlwind...