I Killed the Hero and Took His Achievements-Chapter 52: The Tournament of Scams

[Location: The Floating Arena - High Atmosphere]

[Altitude: 30,000 Feet]

[Status: Live Broadcast (Global).]

The wind roared, but the magic shields kept the arena perfectly still. It was a marvel of engineering and ego. A massive colosseum made of white marble and gold, floating above the cloud layer. It was held up by gravity engines, mana crystals, and the sheer weight of my bank account.

100,000 spectators packed the stands. They weren’t just the common rabble. They were the elite. The surviving Nobles of Oaklan, the Merchant Princes of Zimara, the Dragon Lords of the North, and even the terrified Cardinals of the Church. They weren’t here for honor. They were here for the spectacle. Neon holographic advertisements floated in the air above the fighting pit.

[BUY POTIONS AT AVARICE INC. - 50% OFF!]

[BET NOW! ODDS: 500:1.]

[TODAY’S SPONSOR: THE VOID-BERRY. TASTE THE ABYSS.]

It wasn’t a gladiator match, but it was the Super Bowl of Capitalism.

I sat in the VIP Box, a floating platform made of hard-light glass. I wasn’t wearing my combat gear. I wore a tailored suit woven from Void-Silk, pitch black with pinstripes made of real gold thread.

Sylvia stood to my right, wearing a formal military uniform that barely contained her draconian aura.

Seraphina stood to my left, blessing the crowd with a smile that looked practiced and slightly dead inside.

"The ratings are explosive," Seraphina whispered, checking a datapad. "98% of the planet’s population is watching via Scrying Orbs."

"Good," I sipped a glass of 500-year-old Elven Wine. "Let’s give them a show." I stood up. I tapped the microphone. BOOM. The sound of feedback echoed across the sky like thunder. The crowd went silent instantly.

"CITIZENS OF THE WORLD." My voice wasn’t just loud, but it was omnipresent. "YOU HAVE LIVED IN FEAR. FEAR OF MONSTERS. FEAR OF DEMONS. FEAR OF THE INTERSTELLAR THREAT."

I walked to the edge of the glass box. "THE OLD KINGS TOLD YOU TO PRAY. THE OLD HEROES TOLD YOU TO HOPE." I sneered. "HOPE IS A CURRENCY YOU CANNOT SPEND. I AM HERE TO TEACH YOU A NEW TRUTH. THE ONLY STAT THAT MATTERS IS NOT STRENGTH. IT IS NOT DEXTERITY. IT IS NOT INTELLIGENCE." I raised my Black Gold Card. "IT IS NET WORTH."

The crowd murmured with confusion and excitement.

"WELCOME TO THE FIRST INTER-CONTINENTAL TOURNAMENT! THE RULES ARE SIMPLE. THERE ARE NO RULES. BRING YOUR WEAPONS. BRING YOUR ARMOR." I pointed at the massive holographic screens floating above the arena.

"BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY... BRING YOUR WALLET. INTRODUCING THE DYNAMIC DIFFICULTY SYSTEM!" A menu appeared in the sky, visible to everyone.

[THE ARENA SHOP]

[Interference: Fireball] - Cost: 500 Credits.

[Interference: Heal Fighter] - Cost: 1,000 Credits.

[Buff: Giant Strength] - Cost: 5,000 Credits.

[Debuff: Slippery Floor] - Cost: 2,000 Credits.

[Ultimate: Orbital Strike] - Cost: 50,000 Credits.

"THE AUDIENCE IS NOT JUST WATCHING," I announced. "YOU ARE PARTICIPATING. IF YOU WANT YOUR FAVORITE FIGHTER TO WIN... BUY THEM A BUFF. IF YOU HATE A FIGHTER... BUY A TRAP. THE MARKET DECIDES THE VICTOR!"

The crowd went insane. It was the ultimate gamification of violence. The rich nobles pulled out their credit crystals. The poor pooled their money together.

"LET THE SPORTS BEGIN!"

[Match 1: The Warlord vs. The Whale]

The gates opened. From the Left Gate, there was Grommash the Skull-Crusher. He was a Level 55 Orc Warlord. Seven feet of green muscle, tusks the size of daggers, and wielding a battle-axe made of dragon bone. He roared, shaking the camera drones. "I FIGHT FOR HONOR! I FIGHT FOR THE ORCISH PRIDE!"

From the Right Gate, there was Viscount Piggott. He was a Level 10 Human Noble. He was round, sweating profusely, and wearing silk robes that cost more than a small village. He had never held a sword in his life. He held a Gold Card. "I fight for... uh... my investment portfolio!" Piggott squeaked.

The crowd booed Piggott, but they cheered for Grommash.

"KILL THE FAT MAN!"

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

The referee who was a Shadow Lich raised his hand. "FIGHT!"

Grommash charged. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. His footsteps cracked the stone floor. He moved faster than a car. He raised his axe. His aura flared red. [Skill: Decapitating Strike.] He swung. The axe cleaved the air, aiming straight for Piggott’s neck.

Piggott didn’t dodge. He shrieked and swiped his card on the air. "SYSTEM! PURCHASE [DIVINE SHIELD]!"

[Transaction Complete.]

[Cost: 10,000 Gold.]

PING. A golden bubble materialized around Piggott instantly. CLANG. The axe hit the shield. It bounced off with a comical vibration. Grommash stumbled back, his arms numb from the recoil.

"WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?!" Grommash roared. "FIGHT ME, COWARD!"

Piggott wiped sweat from his forehead. He grinned. He looked at the menu. "He’s scary! System! Purchase [Slow Motion]!"

[Transaction Complete.]

[Cost: 5,000 Gold.] 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

A purple fog descended on Grommash.

[Debuff Applied: Sloth’s Curse.]

[Speed Reduced by 90%.]

Grommash tried to charge again. But he moved like he was wading through molasses. His roar turned into a slow-motion groan. "Yooooouuuu... cheeeeeaaaaat..." The crowd laughed. They started tapping their own screens.

"I’ll buy a [Tomato Throw]!" a noble shouted from the stands.

SPLAT. A digital tomato materialized and hit Grommash in the face.

"Me too!"

SPLAT. SPLAT. SPLAT. The proud Orc Warlord was bombarded by vegetables paid for by the audience.

Piggott gained confidence. He walked up to the slowed Orc. He slapped him. "Take that! And that!"

Grommash cried. Tears of pure humiliation ran down his green cheeks. "My... honor..."

"Finish him!" I boredly commanded over the speaker. "This is dragging on."

Piggott looked at the "Ultimate" section of the shop. "I’ll take the... [Orbital Strike]!"

"That costs 50,000 Gold!" the System AI warned.

"I’m rich! Do it!"

[Transaction Complete.]

[Creating Invoice...]

High above the arena, the HMS Profit Margin adjusted its lower cannons. A targeting laser painted a red dot on Grommash’s forehead.

"Goodbye, savage," Piggott sneered. VWOOM. A beam of pure blue mana descended from the heavens. It engulfed Grommash entirely.

There was no scream, just the sound of instant vaporization. When the light faded, there was nothing left but a pile of ash and a melted axe.

[Winner: Viscount Piggott.]

The crowd went wild. It was unfair, cruel, and disgusting. They loved it.

"SKILL ISSUE," I commented over the mic. "HE SHOULD HAVE FARMED MORE GOLD."

[Match 2: The Sword Saint vs. The DLC]

The arena floor was cleaned by Slime Janitors.

"Next Match!"

From the Left Gate, there was Elara Moonlight, who was The Elven Sword Saint. Level 60. She was famous. She had cleared three A-Rank dungeons solo.

She walked in with grace, her hand resting on the hilt of Moonlight, a legendary blade gifted by the Elven Queen. She looked up at my box. Her eyes were full of hate. "I will not play your games, Demon!" Elara shouted. "I will win with skill alone! I will cut through your money!"

From the Right Gate, there was Bob. It was a Slime. A Level 1 Blue Slime. It wobbled. It had googly eyes drawn on it with a marker. "Gurgle," said Bob.

The crowd laughed. "She’s fighting a jelly!"

Elara drew her sword. The blade glowed with silver moonlight. The aura was sharp enough to cut the wind. "I will end this farce," Elara stated. She assumed a stance. [Skill: Moonlight Flash.] She prepared to dash. She was going to slice the slime in half in 0.1 seconds.

I leaned forward in my chair. "She’s boring," I told Sylvia. "She takes herself too seriously."

"She is strong, Master," Sylvia noted. "That sword ignores 50% of armor."

"Does it?" I raised my hand. My [Chaos Broker] class flared.

"System Override." I targeted Elara’s sword.

[Target: Legendary Sword ’Moonlight’.]

[Action: Revoke License.]

A red notification appeared in front of Elara.

[System Alert: Your ’Free Trial’ for this weapon has expired.]

[Please subscribe to ’Legendary Gear Monthly’ to continue using this item.]

"What?" Elara blinked. "It’s my sword! I own it!"

[Error: Payment Failed. Downgrading Assets.]

POOF. The glowing silver blade vanished. In her hand, she was now holding a Pool Noodle. A long pink foam cylinder. Elara stared at it. She shook it. It flopped sadly. Wiggle. Wiggle. "WHAT IS THIS?!" she screamed.

"It’s the ’Free-to-Play’ version," I announced to the stadium. "If you want the steel back, insert 5,000 Gold."

"I don’t have 5,000 Gold on me!"

"Then fight with the noodle."

The crowd was dying of laughter.

"Bob," I said. "It’s your turn."

I opened the Admin Console. "Purchase [Titan Growth Hormone] for Bob."

[Cost: 20,000 Gold.]

[Effect: Size +5,000%.]

Bob the Slime began to grow. He expanded and swelled. He turned from a basketball-sized blob into a house-sized mountain of blue jelly. "GURGLE!" Bob roared wetly.

Elara looked up at the towering wall of slime. She looked at her pink pool noodle. "This... this is a mockery of martial arts!"

Bob fell forward. [Attack: Body Slam.]

Elara tried to slash. She hit the massive slime with the foam noodle. Boop. It did 0 Damage.

SPLAT. Bob landed on her. He engulfed her completely.

Elara was trapped inside the gelatinous body. She flailed, swimming in the goo, unable to breathe and slice. "I YIELD!" she bubbled from inside the slime. "I YIELD!"

[Winner: Bob.]

"Another victory for the paying customer," I announced. I looked at Gallywix in the back of the VIP box. The Goblin was literally swimming in a pile of receipts. "Revenue?" I asked.

"Boss! We made 2 Billion Gold in the first hour! The betting pool is insane! They are betting on what color the next fighter will bleed!"

"Excellent."

The atmosphere in the waiting room below was palpable. The remaining warriors were terrified. They realized this wasn’t a test of strength. It was a test of who could navigate the System better.

It was a lesson: The House Always Wins.

I stood up to announce the next match, but suddenly, the sky changed color. The blue sky turned a sickly, radioactive green. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Sparky ran into the box, his goggles flashing red. "Boss! Radar contact! Massive energy signature incoming!"

"Is it the Foreign Fleet?"

"No! It’s too small! It’s a projectile! It’s moving at Mach 5!"

I looked at the horizon. It was a green comet was screaming toward the arena. It was leaving a trail of radioactive smoke.

"Is that a missile?" Seraphina asked, raising a shield.

I squinted.

[Target Identification: Kenji.]

[Velocity: Unsafe.]

[Rage Level: Maximum.]

"No," I smiled while swirling my wine glass. "It’s the Guest of Honor."

"He ran here?" Sylvia asked.

"He ran so fast that he broke the friction barrier. He’s literally on fire."

I walked to the microphone. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! PAUSE THE BETTING! IT SEEMS WE HAVE A CHALLENGER."

The green comet smashed into the forcefield of the arena. CRACK. The shield shattered. Kenji landed in the center of the arena, creating a crater that obliterated Bob the Slime. Steam rose from Kenji’s body. His skin was glowing neon green. His rock-arm pulsed with nuclear energy. He looked up at my box. His eyes were pure white madness. "CAIN!!!!" The scream shook the floating stadium.

I leaned over the railing. "You’re late, Hero. You missed the opening ceremony."

"I DON’T CARE!" Kenji roared. "GIVE ME THE SCROLL! GIVE ME MY ARM! GIVE ME MY LIFE BACK!"

"If you want it," I pointed at the arena floor. "You have to win the game."

I turned to the crowd. "NEW ODDS! THE RADIOACTIVE HERO VS. THE HOUSE! PLACE YOUR BETS!"

I looked at Ahri. "You’re up, Fox. Go make him cry."

Ahri licked her lips. "With pleasure." The real show was about to begin.