Wildness and Masks

Ogre's single straightforward strike made the knight apprentice's face change slightly.

It wasn't because the attack was particularly fierce, but because Ogre's strike was aimed directly at his below-the-belt area.

Even though there was armor to block it, the staff's attack was blunt force damage. The force of the strike, even knowing it was safe, wouldn't be something many would willingly endure.

"Despicable!" the knight apprentice cursed softly at Ogre as he dodged backward.

He had never encountered an opponent like this before.

But Ogre didn't care. Seeing his opponent dodge, he had a rough idea of the opponent's combat experience—it wasn't very strong.

Ogre shook his arms, changing his thrust to a flick, and aimed at his opponent's throat.

There was no armor there, and even a low-level professional knight might not be able to withstand a strike to the throat.

But Ogre's attack didn't succeed.

The other end of his staff was blocked by a hand, causing Ogre's strike to hit the chest armor instead.

Seeing this, Ogre twisted his wrist to pull back the staff. This move couldn't cause any damage, and he needed to quickly retrieve his weapon.

Otherwise, if the opponent grabbed it, he would be left weaponless.

The knight apprentice, who had blocked the attack, was also sweating slightly. He hadn't expected to encounter such a situation right from the start. If the opponent's weapon had been a refined iron spear with more power, he might have been defeated in one encounter.

Having witnessed Ogre's staff technique, he no longer underestimated him.

"In a fight, there's no such thing as despicable or not," Ogre replied, trying to disrupt his opponent's thoughts with words.

But it was the truth.

A move that could kill the enemy was a good move. When hunting on the outskirts of the Demon Beast Forest, Ogre always carried quicklime in his waist pouch. It wasn't for the demon beasts but for people.

As long as the powder could blind the opponent, it would be easy to handle. He learned this trick in street fighting—those guys would use any move.

He was already being quite restrained here.

"You won't get another chance," the knight apprentice said, gripping his sword tightly. He had almost lost face just now.

Ogre didn't continue to provoke with words but answered with action.

Ogre gripped the back end of the staff with one hand and the middle with the other, slightly lowering the front end. As he advanced, the seemingly ordinary refined iron staff suddenly lunged forward like a serpent.

Facing the serpent-like attack, the knight apprentice was prepared. Instead of retreating, he advanced—he had gauged the damage of Ogre's attack. Countering attack with attack, exchanging injury for injury, was the best way to disrupt the opponent's nimble attacks!

He was confident that with just one strike, he could render this King of the Arena powerless!

Sure enough, seeing this, Ogre retracted his staff and stepped back.

The knight apprentice was pleased to see his strategy working. He swung his sword at the staff, admitting that his martial skill might not match the opponent's, but he had strength!

As the sword and staff collided, one advancing and one retreating, it seemed on the surface that Ogre was at a disadvantage, as the staff was knocked out of his hand.

But the knight apprentice didn't notice that under the mask, Ogre was already smiling—this was the big move he had been waiting for!

As the staff flew out of his hand, the knight apprentice realized something was wrong. His swing felt no resistance!

The staff was deliberately withdrawn by the opponent!

How could someone control their strength so well?

How could someone abandon their weapon in a fight?

Not good! It's a trap!

The knight apprentice's premonition came true. His swing used all his strength, making it difficult to change moves!

At this moment, Ogre stopped his steps, focusing his strength on his legs. To stop, he only needed to twist his back foot slightly and push forward.

The hand that had released the staff now turned from a loose grip to a firm one.

With a wide stance, using the opponent's momentum, it was as if the opponent delivered his face to Ogre's fist.

Crack— The sound of bones grinding echoed.

The charging knight apprentice was knocked to the ground with a punch, his sword falling to the side.

The reversal happened so quickly that some people hadn't even reacted.

'His head is really hard...'

Part of the cracking sound came from Ogre's fist...

Ogre's punch landed precisely on the opponent's upper lip, a critical nerve connection point on the face. A normal person would be in so much pain that their legs would tremble.

But the opponent wasn't ordinary; the toughness of his face exceeded Ogre's expectations.

If it weren't for the precise strike aided by high-speed dynamic vision, Ogre might have been the one at a disadvantage with that punch.

However, in battle, there are no "ifs"...

As the refined iron staff hit the ground, the audience erupted in cheers.

"From another city, and he went down in just two moves!"

"Gourmet! Gourmet!"

"Get lost, outlander!"

"I knew betting on him would win!"

Ogre paid no attention to the cheers. He merely flexed his slightly deformed fist with his other hand.

That punch combined the power of his waist, legs, and fist to deliver such damage. If not for his strong recovery ability, he couldn't use it often.

This 'instant kill' wasn't easy, but the visual effect should have been impressive.

But this was just an arena fight.

In a real life-and-death battle, the opponent would already be dead. Ogre's sleeve sword was coated with Silver Needle Bee venom.

Even without the poison, a surprise release of the sleeve sword could be lethal.

"Ugh, you despicable guy, if you have the guts, don't dodge!" Hearing the intense voices from the audience, the knight apprentice finally recovered from the suffocating pain, red-eyed and ready for revenge.

He had never been so humiliated!

"Lange!"

At this moment, a shout from the audience brought the knight apprentice back to his senses.

The knight apprentice, called Lange, immediately stopped and looked back at the audience.

It was his companion—a nobleman wearing a standard mage apprentice robe.

"Lange, you've already lost. The few breaths you were down were enough for your opponent to finish you," the mage apprentice said calmly, seemingly not angry about it.

"Master Foucault, I... I just..." Lange wanted to explain, feeling wronged. His strength was clearly superior to that little guy.

"Come down, or do you want to embarrass me further?" Foucault scolded from the waiting area.

Compared to losing the match, he seemed to find his squire's behavior more disgraceful.

"Yes, Master..." Lange didn't argue, choosing to obey. He then stepped forward to pick up his fallen sword of discipline, regaining his composure.

As a knight, having his weapon knocked away meant he had indeed lost.

"This time, you were just lucky." As he passed by Ogre, Lange couldn't help but leave a harsh remark.

'Luck... let's just say it was.' Ogre, hidden behind his mask, didn't show any reaction.

Ignoring someone is often the greatest contempt.

It wasn't until Lange was about to leave the stage that Ogre spoke again: "Wipe your nosebleed, and remember to wear a helmet next time."

"Hahaha!"

Ogre's words made the nearby audience burst into laughter. They enjoyed seeing someone trying to act cool get humiliated.

"I thought he was so tough! Is that it?"

"Look at that outlander who looked down on us, where's his arrogance now!"

Seeing the outlander embarrassed, the audience was quite entertained. They might have disputes among themselves, but against outsiders, they were united.

It wasn't until the mage apprentice took the stage that the lively atmosphere subsided.

"Show him what you've got, Gourmet!"

"Beat him up like before!"

"I bet everything on you, King of the Arena!"

Ogre, as usual, ignored the audience's noise, adjusted his mask, and then focused on his new opponent.

Mage apprentice—Foucault.