Ale's journey: The rise of an adventurer

Ale and his companions thought they were finally free after defeating the three imprisoned adventurers. The massive gate of the arena began to rise once again. Ale released the archer and the mage from his magical restraints. The two adversaries, now calmed, helped the exhausted colossus to his feet. Together, they made their way back into the dark tunnel from which they had emerged.

The slums workers turned toward Viscount Alaric, waiting for him to keep his promise. "You've provided a truly remarkable spectacle," the viscount declared from the stands, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "As promised, you are free."

Yet, a bitter taste lingered among the group. Only a handful of them remained standing, the majority having fallen during the fight. Exhausted but relieved, they prepared to leave the arena. Suddenly, agonized screams echoed from the tunnel. The howls of the three adventurers rang out, punctuated by the sound of ripping flesh and monstrous roars.

A shiver ran down Ale's spine. Something was wrong. He glanced up at the viscount and his son, Aldric. Their expressions, initially alarmed, betrayed a shared, sinister satisfaction. A growing sense of dread seized Ale.

A soldier burst onto the stands, running breathlessly up to the viscount's seat. "My lord! The monsters have escaped from the dungeons!" he shouted, his face pale with fear.

The viscount surprised. "How can that be? The cells are sealed with powerful enchantments!"

Ale narrowed his eyes, watching the noble carefully. A brief glint of satisfaction flickered in the viscount's gaze before his face resumed its mask of feigned concern.

Turning to Ale and the workers, the viscount spoke in a honeyed tone, "I'm truly sorry, Ale, and my dear slum dwellers. You are free from your obligations. However, if you wish to survive, you will need to face these monsters."

Rather than mobilize his guards to handle the situation, the viscount casually reclined in his seat, motioning for the guests to sit back down. The nobles, intrigued by the development, settled in, eager to witness another round of carnage.

Princess Ismérie stood up, her voice filled with indignation. "Viscount Alaric, you cannot abandon them like this! These monsters pose a threat to everyone!"

The viscount shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't worry, Your Highness. I'm sure Ale can handle it. After all, he's already proven his worth."

Ale's fists clenched. The promise of freedom had been nothing more than a trap, a twisted game for the amusement of the nobles.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?" Ale questioned.

The viscount smirked coldly. "Who can say what the future holds? Consider this your final test."

Aldric, standing beside his father, eyed Ale with a mix of jealousy and challenge. "Let's see what you're really capable of."

-----

A deep rumble echoed from the tunnel. Massive shapes began to emerge from the shadows. A pack of wolves surged into the arena, their howls filling the space. Their sharp teeth were stained with fresh blood, and their eyes gleamed with a hungry, predatory light as they locked onto the exhausted workers.

Ale reacted instantly. He cast "Terra Elevatio," raising a stone platform beneath the group of workers, lifting them two meters off the ground and out of the wolves' reach. At this point, most of them were too wounded or exhausted to defend themselves.

"Those of you who can still stand, cover me with arrows!" Ale shouted.

He took a combat stance just as a gigantic silhouette appeared at the entrance to the dark tunnel. The creature struggled to squeeze through, cracking the walls with its massive frame. The ground shook under its weight, and the spectators fell silent, their breath held in anticipation.

It was a three-headed serpent-like monster, easily ten meters long. Its body was as thick as a carriage, and each head was nearly two meters in diameter. Its lantern-like yellow eyes gleamed with malice, and from each mouth protruded razor-sharp fangs. Forked tongues flicked in and out, and its breath reeked of toxic fumes. Its scales shimmered like iron shields in the dim light.

"A Tricephalic Basilisk…" Ale muttered, recognizing the creature. It was a class 6 monster. Due to its size, strength, and deadly venom, even class 5 adventurers would hesitate to face it head-on.

Once the monster entered the arena, it rose to a towering height of five meters, looming over Ale and the group, its gaze piercing. In the stands, some of the spectators fled from the lower seats to the safety of the upper sections, fearing the beast might reach them.

"Do not worry! The stands are protected by a magical barrier!" Vicomte Alaric stood, trying to reassure his guests.

Princess Ismérie remained seated, observing the scene with detached curiosity. "You don't regret sacrificing your best prisoners for this spectacle?" she asked, her tone thoughtful.

"It's... an accident," the vicomte stammered, hesitating for a moment before regaining his composure and continuing coldly. "They're just tools, worn out and no longer useful. It's time for new entertainment." As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Ale.

"And how did these adventurers become your prisoners?" the princess inquired, a spark of interest lighting her eyes.

"They meddled in affairs that didn't concern them," Alaric said dismissively. "Even though they were known as the Dawn Brigade, when they defy my authority in my own city, they end up like rats." His voice dripped with disdain.

"I see," Ismérie replied, without showing any particular judgment.

The Viscount gestured to his betting attendants, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen, it seems the spectacle has taken an unexpected turn!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Let's seize this opportunity to make things more thrilling. I wager 1,000 gold coins on the Basilisk's victory! Who dares to challenge me?"

The guests, stirred by the excitement and the lure of fortune, began murmuring among themselves. Soon, the wagers poured in, with bets placed on either the Basilisk or the slum workers. The Viscount's servants moved through the crowd, diligently recording the bets with practiced efficiency.

Meanwhile, in the arena, the confrontation was imminent. The wolves charged toward Ale, their speed far greater than he had anticipated. One wolf leaped suddenly, and Ale, having underestimated its swiftness, couldn't fully dodge in time. Its sharp fangs grazed his leg, leaving a deep gash that bled immediately.

Grimacing from the pain, Ale quickly realized he couldn't take them head-on like this. He murmured, "Ventus Agilis!"A light aura enveloped him, increasing his speed and agility. He felt a newfound lightness in his limbs, his reflexes sharpening.

"We can't hit them! They're too fast!" one of the archers from the platform shouted, frustration clear in his voice.

Seeing their despair, Ale raised his hand and cast, "Mentis Clarity," "Corporis Flexibilitas!" The spell was designed to enhance their focus and boost their physical dexterity.

"Now, aim for their eyes!" he shouted to the archers. "Don't let them overwhelm us!"

The workers felt their senses sharpen, their precision growing with each passing moment. Their arrows flew through the air with pinpoint accuracy. Several wolves were struck directly in the eyes, collapsing instantly. Yet, the pack remained numerous and aggressive, showing no signs of retreat.

The Basilisk Tricéphale then turned its full attention to Ale. One of its heads spat a stream of corrosive poison in his direction. Thanks to "Ventus Agilis," Ale narrowly avoided the deadly liquid, which hissed and melted the ground where it landed.

Ale attempted to close in on the Basilisk to strike at it directly. He swung his sword with all his might, but the creature's scales were too tough. His blade sparked upon impact, barely leaving a scratch.

Noticing Ale's efforts, the Basilisk focused its attack on him. All three heads reared back, preparing to strike simultaneously.

"I need to find a way..." Ale muttered, sidestepping their incoming attacks.

He decided to take a bold risk. Sprinting toward the monstrous serpent, he darted past the remaining wolves with his enhanced speed. The Basilisk lashed out with its two side heads, trying to trap him. The central head loomed above, jaws wide open, ready to devour him in one swift motion.

With astonishing agility, Ale leaped between the two side heads, narrowly dodging their snapping jaws. The central head plunged down toward him, and the spectators gasped in horror and excitement.

"He's been swallowed!" someone shouted from the stands.

Suddenly, the Basilisk's neck began to bulge and twist in agony. A crack formed along its scales, rapidly growing wider. In a brilliant flash of light, Ale emerged, his sword dripping with the creature's black blood. He had sliced through the beast from the inside.

The central head of the Basilisk collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, kicking up a cloud of dust. The monster howled in agony, writhing violently in its death throes.

However, the daring move came at a cost. Ale's body was now drenched in the corrosive venom of the Basilisk, and his skin began to burn painfully. But there was no time to deal with his wounds. Taking advantage of the creature's disarray, Ale turned his focus to the remaining wolves. "Lure the wolves toward the east side of the arena!" he shouted to the workers.

Understanding his plan, the slum workers began harassing the wolves with arrows and shouts, drawing their attention. Enraged, the pack chased after them, following straight into the trap Ale had devised.

Once the wolves were clustered in the designated area, Ale quickly chanted, "Terra Collapse!" The ground beneath the wolves suddenly gave way, collapsing into a pit three meters deep. The startled wolves tumbled into the hole, scrambling but unable to climb back out.

"Well done!" one of the workers exclaimed, relieved.

At that precise moment, an intense pain surged through Ale's body. His vision blurred, and a searing sensation gripped his throat, making it hard to breathe.

"I need to neutralize the venom..." he thought, attempting to cast a purification spell. "Purificatio Vitae..."

Before he could fully process the spell, the Basilisk, maddened by the loss of its central head, struck back with fury. Its massive tail whipped through the air and coiled tightly around Ale, catching him off guard.

Trapped, Ale struggled to break free, but the venom had weakened his strength. The serpent began to squeeze, seeking to crush him in its deadly grip.

The workers, seeing their protector in peril, desperately tried to help. They fired arrows at the Basilisk, but the projectiles merely bounced off the creature's impenetrable scales.

"Ale! Hold on!" one of them shouted.

Ale felt the crushing force intensifying, his breathing becoming shallow and labored. The combined agony of the venom and the serpent's constriction was driving him to the edge of consciousness.

"I can't fall here..." he muttered weakly.

Then, a spark of an idea flickered in his mind. Drawing upon the last remnants of his strength, Ale concentrated every ounce of his remaining energy. "Ignis Explosio Interna..." he whispered.

A wave of intense heat began to radiate from within him, surging along the Basilisk's coiled tail. The monster felt the scorching fire from the inside, and its grip loosened slightly, startled by the burning sensation coursing through its body.

Sensing the opportunity, Ale poured even more power into the spell. The heat became unbearable for the Basilisk, causing it to shriek in pain and release him entirely, writhing in agony.

Ale collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, his body weak and ravaged by the venom.