229: The First Minute

229: The First Minute

“Well, that sure does explain the pitiful ammunition for our lil’ xbow,” the bearded Number Twenty-two said, making light of the horrifying situation his team found themselves in.

“Y-you mean… We have to… Each other?” the other girl of the white and blue uniform team stuttered as the horrifying realization set in. Their leader, Number Fifty, looked shook to the core and did not say a word while she stared with blank eyes at the weapon they were provided with. One weapon to kill each other.

This momentary calm in the arena could not have lasted for long, as the gobsmacked participants one after the other came to terms with what had to be done if they were to survive.

“W-wait a minute,” one guy with an eyepatch and bucked teeth said with a nervous smile and looked up to his bigger and stronger partner, a gray wolfkin, with whom he found himself paired for his “semi-final”. The beastman looked back at his bucked-teeth teammate without saying a word. Seeing not even a shred of mercy in the cold, emerald eyes, the eyepatch guy realized he had only one chance to stay alive.

The eyepatch guy leaped to the polearm that lay just a few feet in front of him. Tumbling to the ground, he reached the weapon and turned around to defend himself from his first opponent. But in his desperation, the eyepatch guy did not consider how utterly useless the polearm would be in inexperienced hands when his opponent already went past the weapon’s effective area. The wolfkin grabbed the polearm with one hand, punched the eyepatch guy out cold, and moments later pierced the heart of his unconscious teammate while the other two team members watched in horror.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” the wolfkin asked his two weaponless team members. “Oh…”

The wolfkin looked at the bloodstained tip of his polearm, threw it to the feet of his teammates, and said, “Use it if you want to. I won’t need it to kill either of you.”

Both of wolfkin’s teammates looked more pitiful than formidable and in their desperation they both jumped for the weapon, tumbling, scrambling and tackling each other, trying to reach that sliver of hope for survival.

Similar scenes developed simultaneously across the arena as dozens of participans desperately fought over the weapons to secure an advantage for themselves, all the while cheered on by a bloodthirsty crowd.

Number Seven’s team found themselves with a square shield at their feet. But was there any weapon that could give them a chance against “the fridge”?

“G-gheee, not fair!” the jittering hyenakin cried out with a resigned grin just as The Cleaver pierced the skull of the hyenakin mere seconds after the fiery timer started counting down.

Olivia instantly struck at her opponent, aiming one of her kunai in the side of some random beastkin brute Number Thirty-three. The brute intercepted her attack, catching the kunai in his fist. With her first attack thwarted, Olivia dashed away to gain some distance before a counterattack. She completely ignored the trap that was fighting over a greatsword with three other people, instead, relying on her own arsenal to win her fight.

Neither Beatrice nor any of her three weirdo teammates jumped for the dagger that they were so kindly provided with by the masked staff member. Instead, they turned to each other, sizing up their inevitable opponent. The fur coat-wearing couple stood back to back—the four-eyed milf faced the snake lady while her husband faced Beatrice. Both the snake lady and Beatrice took several slow steps back to make some distance, though none of the four appeared in a hurry to attack.

“Well, well,” the husband smirked as he looked at Beatrice. “Had I known that I’d have to kill you so soon, I would’ve let you join in on the fun.”

“You can’t be serious,” Beatrice shook her head, even though she knew that Number Twenty-six was in fact very serious.

“I’m not a monster! I wouldn’t deny any woman her right for one final fuck before death!” Number Twenty-six said sincerely. “There is still some time. How about it? I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll be able to die happy, knowing that you finally were graced with the great Rigardo’s fabulous cock!”

“She’s not worthy, babe!” the milf protested.

“Oh, I know—I’m just too generous!” Number Twenty-six puffed his chest a little without a shred of modesty. “Think about it, masked bimbo: I’m offering you an honor that many women only dream about! Don’t you want to die fulfilled?”

Beatrice’s stomach churned as her guilt for having to kill her teammates evaporated by the second, and she said, “Are you that horrible in bed that the women would gladly welcome the sweet embrace of death rather than subject themselves to your ‘honor’ for even a second longer?”

“How dare you!?” Number Twenty-six exclaimed, shocked and appalled by such a baseless insult.

“Kill her!” Number Twenty-five shouted to her husband while not letting the snake lady out of her sight.

“28:55”