Andrea Rhodea’s incendiary words were like a spark thrown into boiling oil, instantly setting the surrounding crowd’s frenzy ablaze.
The colosseum, this patch of ground watered by blood and money, was forever hungry for new sacrifices.
Countless gazes mixed with curiosity, cruelty, and bloodthirsty anticipation all focused on Cain at once, as if examining a beast about to be sent to the slaughterhouse.
“No, Cain!
This is too dangerous!” Tifa immediately grabbed his arm, her beautiful face filled with anxiety and firm opposition.
“We’ll think of something else.
There has to be another way!
This isn’t a battlefield where it’s kill or be killed.
It’s just a bloody show meant to entertain those people.
It isn’t worth it!” She knew how powerful Cain was, but precisely because of that, she did not want to see him waste that strength on meaningless slaughter.
She did not want him to take a shortcut by stepping into this swamp that treated human dignity and life as playthings.
Cain turned his head and looked at Tifa.
In his clear blue eyes, there was no cold indifference.
Instead, they reflected her worried face, carrying a steady calm that set her at ease.
He gently took Tifa’s hand in return, his warm, strong palm conveying an unquestionable conviction.
“This is the fastest way, Tifa,” he said in a low, clear voice.
“It’s also the safest way.
Let me handle it.
You two stay somewhere safe.
Trust me.” That “trust me” did not come from the cold judgment of a test subject, but from a protector’s absolute confidence in his own abilities, and from his determination not to let his companions fall into any unknown danger.
Seeing Tifa and Aerith standing here, exposed beneath countless ill-intentioned gazes, the protective instinct deep within him urged him to use the most direct, most thorough method to strangle every potential threat in its cradle.
Tifa looked into his determined eyes.
That unquestionable sense of responsibility made her throat tighten, and all her arguments turned into silent trust.
She slowly let go and nodded.
“All right, Mr.
Bodyguard.” Aerith seemed much more relaxed.
She walked up to Cain and playfully straightened the collar of his jacket for him, her movements so natural that it felt as if they had known each other for years.
“Just don’t keep us waiting too long, okay?
Tifa and I will be cheering for you from the best seats.” Her smile was as bright as ever, as if what was about to begin was not a life-or-death duel, but merely an entertaining exhibition match.
Andrea watched this little “pre-battle pep talk” with satisfaction.
He snapped his fingers elegantly.
“Take our rising star to the fighter’s tunnel!
Oh, and give him a magnificent title… How about ‘the Melancholy Guardian’?
It sounds like there’s a story behind it, doesn’t it?” Cain ignored the affected title.
He took the Buster Sword wrapped in thick canvas off his back and solemnly handed it to Tifa.
“Hold this for me.” “…Yeah.” Tifa nodded hard and hugged the heavy greatsword tightly.
The cold touch from the blade seemed to stand in sharp contrast to the warmth of Cain’s palm, calming her chaotic thoughts somewhat.
She knew what this sword meant to Cain.
Entrusting it to her was the heaviest kind of faith.
“Be careful,” she said softly.
The corners of Cain’s mouth seemed to lift by the faintest amount, a smile so slight it was almost impossible to catch.
He turned around and walked without hesitation into the dark, damp fighter’s tunnel leading underground.
His back was broad and reliable, and each step he took was exceptionally steady.
Under Andrea’s “special introduction,” Tifa and Aerith were brought to VIP seats with an excellent view.
Looking down at the steel ring below, stained with dark red traces of blood, and feeling the air thick with sweat and violence, Tifa could not help the cold sweat gathering in her palms.
“Don’t worry,” Aerith said softly, taking her cool hand to comfort her.
“He isn’t fighting for a show.
He’s fighting to protect us.
When a man fights to protect something, he becomes very, very strong.” Tifa took a deep breath and nodded, her gaze fixed on the fighter’s tunnel gate as it slowly opened.
“Ladies!
Gentlemen!” In the arena, a clownish host screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Tonight, we welcome a mysterious challenger!
He has short silver hair, blue eyes, and a heart determined to protect beautiful ladies!
Let’s give our loudest cheers for, the Melancholy Guardian!” Amid cheers very different from before, cheers filled with curiosity, Cain walked into the center of the colosseum.
He was still wearing the same dark jacket and cargo pants, looking completely out of place in this frenzied, blood-soaked environment.
He raised his head, his gaze passing through the noisy crowd and accurately finding Tifa and Aerith’s seats.
He gave a slight nod.
It was a silent promise, Don’t worry.
I’m here.
“Oh?
Our dear Guardian truly lives up to his name!
His eyes follow only the princesses he wishes to protect!” The host was very good at stirring up the atmosphere.
“Then let us see whether he has enough strength to defend his vow!
His first opponents tonight are the cannibal brothers from the sewers!” The gate thundered open, and two brawny men over six feet tall, covered in knotted muscle and wielding huge iron clubs, charged out with furious roars.
They were undefeated regulars here, and their hands were stained with the blood of countless challengers.
The audience’s cheers reached their first peak.
“Cain…” Tifa’s heart instantly rose to her throat.
In the arena, Cain’s gaze suddenly changed.
Those blue eyes, which had been calm a moment ago, became as sharp as an eagle’s.
He rolled his neck and wrists, letting out a crisp series of cracks from his joints, then took a stable fighting stance.
He was not here to perform.
He was here to solve a problem.
The cannibal brothers looked at each other, roared like beasts, and rushed at Cain from the left and right.
The iron clubs in their hands tore through the air with howling force, heavy and overwhelming, sealing off every path of retreat.
At the very instant the clubs were about to fall, Cain moved.
He did not choose to dodge.
Instead, he advanced rather than retreated, his body suddenly sinking low as he darted like a leopard into the space between them, the only blind spot in their attacks.
Then, using his right foot as a pivot, his body spun at high speed.
His left leg swept out like a steel whip infused with tremendous force, cutting through the air with a fierce whistle.
Bang!
Bang!
Two heavy, teeth-aching impacts rang out almost at the same time.
The cannibal brothers’ lower legs, as thick as tree trunks, were forcibly deformed by Cain’s spinning kick.
Their massive bodies lost balance and crashed to the ground amid screams, clutching their broken legs as they rolled in agony, unable to stand again.
The entire process was swift, efficient, and filled with an overwhelming sense of power.
The whole arena instantly fell into dead silence.
The spectators who had been shouting wildly a second earlier now looked as if an invisible hand had seized them by the throat.
They stared in stunned silence at the man in the arena as he slowly lowered his leg, his breathing not even slightly disturbed.
After the brief silence, thunderous applause and unbelievable cheers resounded through the entire colosseum.
The people were completely conquered by that pure, overwhelming strength, and they began frantically chanting the title he had only just been given.
“Guardian!
Guardian!
Guardian!” In the VIP seats, Andrea Rhodea’s eyes shone brilliantly.
“Oh, la la… what have I discovered?
This isn’t melancholy.
This is absolute confidence!
This is simply the perfect union of power and beauty!” And in another, more hidden VIP box, Madam M held a folding fan and watched everything in the arena through the gaps of a bamboo curtain, an amused smile curling at the corners of her mouth.
“A man who knows why he fights is far more valuable than those beasts who only understand killing.” On the arena floor, the second battle followed immediately.
This time, his opponents were a group of agile thugs wielding sharp blades, five of them in total.
They had clearly learned from the first match.
They did not attack recklessly, choosing instead to circle and surround him, searching for their prey’s openings like a wolf pack.
However, what they faced was a lion.
Cain’s figure moved at high speed among the five men.
Every punch and every kick was precise and swift.
He made no unnecessary movements.
Every attack went straight for an opponent’s weak point, either making them lose balance or forcing their weapon from their hand.
All the spectators could see were blurred figures crossing paths, accompanied by the crisp sounds of weapons hitting the floor and pained groans.
In less than a minute, all five thugs were lying on the ground, no longer able to fight.
He had not even spilled a drop of blood.
What he displayed was overwhelming combat skill, and a kind of restraint that refused to take their lives.
That made his image seem even taller and more mysterious in the eyes of the audience.
He was not only powerful, he also had principles of his own.
“He’s… amazing…” Tifa murmured.
She had seen Cain fight before, but most of those battles had been chaotic struggles for survival.
Now, under the gaze of the crowd, the composed, effortless strength he displayed, as though he had everything under control, gave her an indescribable sense of security, along with a trace of pride.
“See?
I told you it would be fine.” Aerith’s smile remained bright, but her gaze carried something deeper.
She looked at the figure fighting in the arena to protect them and thought silently, Zack, are you seeing this?
There really are still… idiot heroes like you in this world.
“All right!
All right!
It seems our Melancholy Guardian is destined to become tonight’s legend!” The host had completely transformed into Cain’s fanatical supporter.
“Two victories in a row!
Now, he will face the final trial!
A monster without life, yet more vicious than any beast!
Let us scream louder than we ever have before and welcome, Hell!
House!” As the last syllable fell from his mouth, the floor at the center of the colosseum suddenly split open, and a massive platform slowly rose upward.
Amid dry ice and eerie lighting, a twisted house with arms, legs, and an evil smiling face on its roof appeared before everyone.