The Harvester

Chapter 323: Badass

Rita sighed audibly as one more participant died; beheaded this time. It had been a few hours since she had retired from the round, and about two-thirds of the participants had already died. From the initial tally, that meant about fifty people had died.

"This is sickening," she muttered under her breath as she tried to tune out the roars of the crowd.

She huffed and glanced at the mysterious woman standing next to her. When Rita had first seen her, she had been intrigued; a beautiful frame, sitting there silently. Then, without moving even a muscle, she had generated a gust of wind powerful enough to shunt a group of men away.

And she had done so in a place where magic couldn't be invoked in any form or manner. This is why such a simple feat was so impressive. It had been as if the air itself had bent to her command for nothing more than her existence as an incentive.

Not to mention she had healed her injury; once again without magic or even a speck of mana.

'Heck, it didn't even feel like anything at all,' Rita thought as she rubbed her shoulder. 'It was as if her palm itself was the healing spell…' As she was thinking that, she heard the masked woman sigh and was jolted.

"It's about time I go," she heard her say through the mask before she began walking away.

"W-wait!" Rita shouted reflexively. "There's no one on the arena right now. Are you sure you want to be…?" Her voice died down and she never finished her sentence as one glowing ellipse peered over the woman's shoulder in her direction.

"No need. Nobody here poses a danger to my life."

With those words, she watched as Ranka casually propelled herself toward the arena with a speed even greater than hers.

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* * *

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'Let's get this over with,' Rakna said to himself as he landed on the platform. In all honesty, he had gotten bored of this farce. Barely anyone here constituted a threat to him and among those that did, not even one had deigned to step forward as of yet.

"{Grumpy, are we?}" Fray jested.

'I don't think anyone would be happy to watch psychopaths kill each other, hear the incessant buzzing of a brainless gallery, ignore the repugnant scents of lust and animosity, and be disallowed to leave the premises before the round is over.'

"{…good points.}"

"Hahaha! You're done for, girly!" A cocky voice resounded as a man of wide stature landed on the arena shouldering a greatsword. "I was waiting for you to come up. Be ready to squeal…"

"…do I know you?" Rakna deadpanned and the man popped a vein. He gritted his teeth and pointed his weapon at him.

"I'm one of the guys you attacked by surprise earlier, you arrogant bitch!"

"Oh…" The disguised therian exclaimed dully and Scherzo displayed droopy eyes as if it could read its wearer's emotions. "You felt the need to add 'by surprise', didn't you?"

"Shut up! You won't be as calm when I make you beg me for your life!" The man yelled and readied his stance with a grin. "Don't worry… I'll let you feel real good before I gut you," he stated whilst licking his lips and the crowd cheered in agreement.

"Uh, uh," responding blankly, Rakna calmly reached for Sonata. "You as well, don't worry, I can tell your lower half is stealing a bit too much blood from your brain; I won't judge your idiocy with respect to that. Then again, I doubt there is much being stolen, is there?"

"You damn…!" He growled out and put strength in his legs. He also decided to pour mana into his greatsword from the get-go, but when he was about to kick off, the masked woman drew her blade with an audible whistle of steel and he froze on the spot. "Eh?" He uttered dumbly as he felt his muscles constrain; his veins suddenly becoming far more apparent under his skin.

He couldn't move at all. It was like something inside of him was rebelling against him.

"Aah…" Rakna sighed as Sonata glowed crimson. He then silently approached his opponent with the sword lowered to the side as if he had never unsheathed it with the intention to fight in the first place.

"What… did you… do…?" His opponent struggled to speak, his every vein and muscle bulging in an attempt to free itself from the unknown bindings.

Wordlessly, however, Rakna thrust Sonata and pierced his heart. He then pulled it out in the same breath while the man collapsed on the ground. The crimson glow around the sword receded and its victim felt the hold over his body vanish, but far too late as his life came to an end right after.

The Arena had fallen silent.

"Next," Rakna spoke up, his voice cold and loud. At the same time, he kicked the dead man at his feet off the platform. A few awaiting participants below had to step away as the corpse crashed on the floor before some staff members of Kratos came to clean it.

No one dared to move and Rakna groaned. He was getting tired of this thing. Being continuously near a bunch of criminals, smelling their decadence without being able to filter it out, and having to on top of that watch their pathetic battles to the death was wearing on his patience. Perhaps he truly had been affected by the Sin of Pride more than he first thought.

"I said…" He growled out and extended his Soul Power, directing it at a random guy whose overall criminality was high, as shown by Crystal Sight. "Next, you bunch of pigs," he added with finality and his target's eyes emptied, his soul being overtaken and manipulated under his control.

When the man landed and recovered from the control, Rakna's sword was already on its way to separate his head from his neck.

Just like that, he continued killing one participant after another without rest. His Soul Power was more than enough to subdue most of them and if that did not work well enough, Sonata hijacked their blood and paralyzed them with Lifeblood Rage.

This perk was one of the more versatile and powerful ones of his Soul Weapon. The cherry on top was that it consumed Blood Units and he could easily fill that up with either his own blood or the one of his victims. Though, he also had plenty of it stockpiled in advance.

It was after he put down his sixth opponent that Rakna stopped his spree. The reason was that a man had stepped onto the arena of his own free will. It was one of the strongest people he could sense in the room. Someone with an estimated level of 600 or higher.

It was a tall man from the merfolk race; a half-shark, half-human. However, this man was nothing like the pair of children Astraea had protected back at New Athens. This one had a pure bloodline and his suppressed aura couldn't be compared to the rest of the incompetent fools here.

Furthermore, merfolk were a physically superior race to humans. Their root attributes were thus much higher, and this man specifically possibly had them at around the 150-mark, if not the 200s, despite the absence of the 'World' or the System.

Even if Rakna tried, both his Soul Power and Blood Control wouldn't work at all. 'And if that wasn't enough…' He muttered internally as he observed the shark's weapon attached to his back. It could be called a greatsword if you stretched it, but it was widely inaccurate. In fact, its appearance was so odd it reminded Rakna of his Dáinsleif; an arrow with bulky blades.

'There are traces of Spiritual Intent around it,' he added internally. 'And for some reason, looking at it makes me uneasy… I can win, but only if I reveal a vast array of my abilities and traits. It's not worth it,' he thought and sheathed Sonata.

"My name is Ranka. Yours?"

The shark raised an eyebrow, the fins on his cheek twitching at the same time. "…Cura," he replied calmly, his sharp teeth showing momentarily.

"See you tomorrow then," Rakna nodded and jumped off the hanging platform.

Up until now, the spectators had been quiet at his performance. He may have killed six competitors in total but it had been done in such a fast succession that it barely took a few minutes. It wasn't until they saw the masked woman step off the arena that they recovered. They immediately began to holler and cheer; chanting her name.

Rakna clicked his tongue and simply went back to stand next to Rita who was positively gawking at him with her mouth wide open, enough so that he was almost genuinely worried her jaw would fall.

"Ranka… you're a badass," she eventually stated and he smiled internally.

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My brain went to Narnia, my soul said hi to Jesus, and my body’s been playing an unending game of Uno with the monster under my bed; WHICH I'M LOSING BTW!

.

That’s pretty much how I feel at the moment and I refuse to elaborate.

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