The deafening roars of the crowd echoed through the arena as Rahul stepped forward, handing over a pouch filled with gold coins.
"Here's your 5,500 gold coins," he said calmly. "My deposit for the ten rounds of combat. Also, I want to bet on myself—55,000 gold coins on my victory."
The officials around him froze. Murmurs filled the room, disbelief thick in the air. Yet Rahul's expression remained composed. He was all in.
He waited in the dimly lit preparation chamber, the scent of sweat, metal, and dried blood clinging to the walls. A silent gatekeeper sat near the heavy iron door, waiting to signal the start of the match. Around Rahul, weapons and armor lay neatly arranged, relics of the countless warriors who had entered this blood-soaked coliseum.
Then, with a thunderous announcement, the arena doors creaked open. A blinding light poured in, accompanied by a surge of cheers, jeers, and frenzied chants. Rahul stepped onto the battlefield, sand crunching beneath his boots.
From the opposing end emerged a towering man, nearly seven feet tall, his muscular frame crisscrossed with old battle scars. He bore no weapons, no armor—just raw, terrifying power.
The crowd bellowed, "Crush! Crush! CRUSH!"
The brute strutted forward, spat at the ground near Rahul's feet, then raised his fist and mimed the crushing of a skull. The arena erupted again.
But Rahul didn't flinch.
When the opponent was within range—seven or eight meters away—Rahul raised his M1912 shotgun.
"Badhuss!"
A thunderous shot rang out.
A hail of lead blasted into the man's head, reducing it to pulp. Blood sprayed like a macabre fountain, and a heavy silence fell over the arena before the lifeless body hit the ground.
➖Ping➖
[User extracted 2x gold teeth.]
Gasps and murmurs rippled across the crowd. Then, cheers—mixed with rage—exploded from the stands. No one had expected the newcomer to survive, let alone dominate.
An announcer called out to Rahul, offering him a rest period. But he simply waved, signaling his intent to continue.
A messenger relayed the decision to the dais.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer cried out. "Our valiant warrior has refused rest! The games continue! Round Two begins now!"
The crowd howled in delight.
The next opponents entered—two seasoned warriors clad in leather armor. One carried a spear, the other a sword and shield. Both looked prepared for war.
Rahul lifted his Kar98k.
"KLAM!"
The shield-bearer crumpled instantly, a gaping wound in his chest. The spearman charged in rage.
Two more shots. One shattered the spear-wielder's arm; the next blew his kneecap apart. He collapsed, screaming in agony.
Another ping from the system confirmed the kills.
Without waiting, Rahul gave another thumbs up. Round Three commenced.
This time, three fighters entered—two swordsmen and an archer. Rahul knew what was coming. He fired a precise headshot at the archer, sending the body tumbling.
The swordsmen raised their shields and began a slow approach. Rahul adjusted his scope. Two shots, two clean kills. The first bullet shattered one's sternum; the second blew through the other's throat and spine.
Their shields and armor, even of T3 grade, couldn't stand against the Kar98k's sheer force.
The arena fell into stunned silence.
Back in the betting chamber, the arena owner puffed quietly on his hookah, brows furrowed.
"Sir... is he going to win all the rounds?" one of the officials asked nervously.
"It looks like it…"
The old man stayed quiet, but inside, he marveled. This wasn't just a winning streak—it was a slaughter.
Round Four. Four warriors entered. Four more bodies fell before even a minute passed.
Round Five. Archers entered this time, and Rahul took damage. An arrow pierced his left hand, another struck his chest. The pain was intense—piercing, burning—but it wasn't fatal.
His system absorbed the damage and converted it to HP loss. In the real world, those wounds would have meant death. But Rahul wasn't bound by such limits—not anymore.
He only had to avoid a headshot.
He pressed on, more determined than ever. As long as he lived, this battlefield would be his.
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🔥Coming Up Next - Chapter 18: God of Death 2.0
Ten rounds. Dozens of opponents. Hundreds of lives wagered—and all of them crushed beneath Rahul's relentless firepower. But as his body count rises and his weapons echo across the bloodstained arena, a bigger storm brews behind the curtains. Will the man who defied death now challenge the gods of power and pride themselves?
The bloodbath has only begun.