I Conquer Hell and Heaven With 666 Trillion Coins

[The Cosmic Terror, First Beta, Seventh Dungeon!

Title of the Dungeon: Martial Arts Tournament(Aether/Inner Circle)

Task: Fight, Beat, Win, Survive

Players Inside the Dungeon: 1096]

Dean had already entered the dungeon.

He found himself inside an arena.

He had already managed to work out what was going on. All he had to do was emerge victorious from the tournament or secure a high ranking.

It could be said that it was a rather simple matter, one that didn’t even require a lengthy explanation.

He didn’t know which realm he would face or who his opponent would be, but it could be said that he would do his utmost to emerge victorious.

The roar of the crowd reached Dean before he even entered the arena.

It wasn’t the kind of sound he had expected to hear inside a dungeon. Thousands of voices filled the enormous space beyond the entrance, some cheering, some shouting names, and others simply screaming in excitement as they waited for the next fight to begin.

The noise rolled through the stone corridors like thunder, making the ground beneath Dean’s feet feel almost alive.

Dean stepped through the entrance and stopped for a moment.

The arena was enormous.

A circular battlefield covered in fine sand stretched out before him, surrounded by countless rows of seats. There were humans among the spectators, but they were far from the only ones.

Dean spotted creatures with horns, scales, wings, tails, fur, and bodies unlike anything he had seen on Earth. Some appeared almost human, while others looked like monsters that had somehow learned to sit down and watch a sporting event.

There were even beings that seemed to radiate an aura strong enough for Dean to notice from where he stood.

He slowly looked around.

People, beings from other realms...From big three to tiny ones that Dean had no idea of.

Percival stood a few steps behind him, staring at the arena with an equally cautious expression.

"So this is the next dungeon. As it said, you need to fight here to survive, my liege," he said

Dean nodded slightly.

"Looks like it," he replied.

He had already known what awaited him from the information given by the dungeon, but knowing something and actually seeing it were two different things.

He had to fight.

A loud bell suddenly rang.

The entire arena fell silent.

A man standing on a raised platform above the battlefield stepped forward. He was dressed in an elegant black coat with golden decorations, and a strange smile rested on his face as he looked over the arena.

"Welcome, challengers!" he said.

The crowd immediately erupted. The announcer waited until the noise settled before continuing.

"You have entered the Tournament of Survival! From this moment onward, every battle you fight will determine whether you continue forward or become another name forgotten by this dungeon!"

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Every challenger will fight until they are defeated, surrender, or are otherwise deemed unable to continue! Those who survive enough rounds will advance through the dungeon and eventually earn the right to leave!"

The crowd cheered again. Dean sighed quietly.

"So that’s how this dungeon works, at least no deaths, huh, Percival?" he said suddenly.

Percival nodded and said, "This is good news, my lord. At least you are used to duelling with people."

The enormous gate behind them suddenly slammed shut.

There was no going back.

Dean looked toward the centre of the arena. A second gate opened on the opposite side.

Something enormous walked through it.

The crowd immediately became louder. Dean raised an eyebrow. The creature was huge.

It stood well over two meters tall, with thick greenish-grey skin, massive shoulders, and arms large enough to crush a man with ease. Two small tusks protruded from the corners of its mouth, while several scars covered its face and chest.

At first glance, Dean would have called it an orc.

But the creature wasn’t wearing crude armour or carrying some primitive weapon as you would read in a novel.

He wore well-made metal armour over his chest and shoulders, carried a large battle axe, and walked with a surprising amount of composure.

The way he looked around showed intelligence. This was no animal but a living being with human intelligence, or perhaps more.

The creature stopped several meters away from Dean and studied him carefully.

"So you’re Decanus," he said.

His voice was deep enough to make the ground seem to vibrate.

Dean looked at him.

"You’ve heard of me?" he asked. He didn’t expect anyone to have heard of him. Especially when they didn’t look from either Aether or Nether, let aside Earth.

"Of course." The orc-like man rested his enormous axe against his shoulder. "You wouldn’t be standing here otherwise," he said, quite pridefully.

The announcer raised his staff.

"Your first opponent!"

The crowd began shouting.

"Gorran!"

"Gorran!"

"Gorran!"

The massive warrior gave Dean a small nod.

"My name is Gorran. I don’t expect you to surrender, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t make this unnecessarily unpleasant."

Dean almost smiled.

"You’re surprisingly polite."

Gorran chuckled.

"I’ve been called many things. Stupid or snarly has never been one of them."

Dean glanced at his axe.

"And you’re confident," he said, smiling.

"I know my strength," Gorran replied.

The bell rang.

Gorran immediately charged.

The arena shook beneath his footsteps.

The massive axe swung toward Dean with enough force to split a person in half, and Dean stepped aside.

The axe smashed into the sand. Gorran’s eyes widened slightly. It seemed he didn’t expect Dean to be this fast.

Dean didn’t even wait for him to recover.

His spear appeared in his hand, and the second it did, Holy Power Energy burst into the massive arena.

Dean didn’t realise, but some people he ’knew’ were watching him too. However, he would meet them later.

With one smooth motion, Dean drove the blunt end of the weapon into Gorran’s stomach.

The impact was enormous.

Gorran’s feet left the ground. His massive body flew backwards several meters before crashing into the sand.

The arena went silent.

Dean stood exactly where he had been. Gorran slowly pushed himself up.

He coughed.

Then he looked at Dean.

"What?" Dean asked. He tilted his head and asked, "Are you alright?"

Gorran stared at him as if the question itself had offended him.

"You sent me flying with the back of a spear," he said.

Dean looked at the weapon.

"I didn’t even hit you with half of my strength," he explained.

The crowd exploded.

Gorran gritted his teeth and charged again. This time, he changed his approach.

Instead of swinging immediately, he rushed forward and used his enormous body to try and tackle Dean.

Dean stepped backwards, planted the butt of his spear into the ground, and vaulted over him.

Gorran passed underneath.

Before the creature could turn around, Dean landed behind him and struck the back of his knee.

Gorran dropped to one leg.

Dean immediately kicked the side of his body. The orc-like warrior was thrown across the arena again.

He rolled several times before stopping. For several seconds, he didn’t move.

The audience had gone completely quiet.

Gorran slowly raised himself onto one knee. He looked at Dean.

There was no anger in his expression anymore.

Only disbelief.

"I see," he said.

He then slowly stood.

"I understand now," he added to his words.

Dean waited. Everything was so easy that he didn’t even attack him when he was down.

Gorran tightened his grip around his axe.

"You’re much stronger than you look."

Dean smiled faintly. It seemed that the creature was dumber than Dean expected.

"That’s usually how it goes."

Gorran suddenly raised his axe and rushed forward one final time.

Dean didn’t even bother moving his feet. He raised his spear.

The moment Gorran entered his range, Dean swung.

The spear struck the side of Gorran’s chest.

The impact sent the massive warrior flying again, but this time he didn’t get back up. His axe fell from his hand.

He literally had blood coming out of his mouth. This time Dean hit harder than he normally would.

The bell rang inside the arena ring instantly, and a voice was heard after:

"WINNER!"

The arena erupted. Dean lowered his spear and looked toward Gorran.

The massive warrior was conscious, though clearly unable to continue. After a moment, Gorran laughed. It was deep and tired.

"Well..."

He looked up at Dean.

"I suppose I know why they sent you first."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"They sent me first?" he asked, quite literally confused.

Gorran nodded.

"To see what you can do," he answered.

Dean glanced toward the spectators. Thousands of eyes were watching him now. Some were excited, and some looked surprised.

And a few looked considerably more interested than they had before the match began.

The announcer raised his voice.

"DECANUS ADVANCES TO THE NEXT ROUND!"

The crowd roared again.

Dean slowly rested his spear against his shoulder.

"That was it?"

He couldn’t help but think. He might’ve fought before...like for his life. Those angels, the behamoth and some more.

Still, he wasn’t perfect; he wasn’t even close to being that. Gorran looked like a heavy fighter, and everything was over the second Dean tried a tiny bit harder.

[They send you first]

"What the FUCK does that even mean?" he thought to himself once more.

He looked down at Gorran.

The fight had barely been a fight, and yet, somewhere beyond the arena, there were still countless opponents waiting for him.

Dean smiled.

If this were how the tournament was going to begin, then perhaps surviving this dungeon would be easier than he had expected.

But as another gate began opening on the opposite side of the arena, Dean’s expression slowly became serious.

The tournament had only just begun.

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