Chương 73: Deer Man

The next match was scheduled to begin half an hour later. Fraser waited inside the tunnel beneath the arena, quietly laughing to himself as he adjusted his mask. It had been fashioned from the severed head of a deer, its hide stretched and preserved over his face with both antlers still attached. That deer had been the first living creature Fraser had ever killed. At the time, he had been starving. Now, its face had become his own.

He wore loose black robes and carried a shotgun at his side, using the barrel like a walking cane. With each step he took, moisture spread across the stone beneath it, leaving wet footprints. A thin trail of water followed him toward the arena. Lord Ars rose from the imperial balcony.

"Alright, everyone!" The crowd's conversations faded beneath his booming voice.

"Our next match features one of the three fighters considered most likely to win this entire tournament!" The right-side gate slowly opened.

"The Mercenary King himself!" Fraser stepped into the sunlight.

"The mysterious man whose true name remains unknown even to me!" Ars pointed dramatically toward him.

"A warrior who always carries a shotgun at his side—and the scent of blood wherever he goes!" Fraser calmly entered the arena, using the weapon as a cane while politely waving toward the crowd.

"I present to you…" Ars threw both arms wide.

"Deer Man!" The audience erupted. Fraser stopped near the center of the battlefield, water slowly gathering around his boots. Beneath the deer mask, he smiled.

"I do hope my little brother is prepared for what's about to happen." The opposite gate opened.

"And on the left, one of Emperor Valor's seven children!" Crimson and golden banners rose throughout the stands.

"The sixth heir to the imperial throne!" A massive figure stepped onto the sand.

"Born as the Demi-God of Protection!" The man stood well over seven feet tall, with short blond hair and the same orange eyes carried by every child of Valor. Rumors claimed his mother had been an ogre. Others insisted she had been a giant. Looking at him, either seemed possible. His white button-up shirt strained desperately against his enormous muscles. In both hands, he carried a massive wooden club thick enough to resemble the trunk of a tree.

"I give you Prince Augustus Crest!" The imperial section of the crowd roared. Augustus walked toward his opponent without hesitation, each step leaving a deep impression in the sand. He stopped across from Fraser and pointed his club toward him.

"Thank you for participating in this match." Fraser tilted his masked head.

"As a representative of the Empire, I expect you to fight without mercy." Augustus's voice carried the weight of command.

"Do not hold back simply because I am a prince." Fraser chuckled. Augustus had no idea that the masked man standing before him was his eldest brother. The former crown prince. The sibling who had abandoned everything Augustus had been raised to covet.

"Of course." Fraser rested the shotgun against his shoulder.

"I wouldn't dream of it." His gaze sharpened behind the hollow eyes of the deer.

"You're lucky you aren't the Third Heir." The words were too quiet for Augustus—or anyone else—to hear. Fraser's fingers tightened around the shotgun.

"Otherwise, you would already be dead." He quickly loosened his grip. Then, with the practiced courtesy of a wandering mercenary, he offered Augustus a small bow.

"As a citizen of the Empire, I will gladly obey the prince's request." Augustus nodded in approval.

"Though I would appreciate it if you answered a question of mine first."

"Of course." Augustus rested his club against his shoulder.

"Go ahead. Ask whatever you desire." Fraser hesitated for only a moment.

"It concerns the runaway prince." Augustus's expression immediately changed.

"Fraser Crest," the masked man continued calmly.

"I've always been curious about what his siblings thought of him." He tilted his head. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Would you care to tell me?" Augustus's fingers tightened around his club.

"I hate that name." Fraser went still. Augustus glared down at the sand.

"The runaway prince." His voice carried far more anger than Fraser had expected.

"My big brother was the most amazing man I ever knew." Behind the deer mask, Fraser's eyes widened.

"I don't blame him for leaving this awful family." Augustus's grip tightened until the wood creaked beneath his fingers.

"Especially after what happened to Big Sister Maria." Fraser's heart stopped.

"Maria?" For the first time, a hint of panic slipped into his voice. He quickly buried it beneath a curious tone.

"What happened to her?" Augustus's orange eyes darkened.

"The Third Heir." He spat the title like a curse.

"Louis attempted to assassinate her." Fraser said nothing.

"In the process, Maria lost both of her legs." The arena suddenly felt distant. The crowd. The announcer. The thousands of voices surrounding them. Fraser heard none of it. He saw only the younger sister he remembered. The brilliant girl who had followed him through the palace halls, constantly lecturing him whenever he neglected his duties.

"Father didn't care," Augustus continued. His voice shook with disgust.

"He sent her to Álfheimr to manage one of its ruined territories." Fraser's gaze lowered.

"As punishment for being incompetent enough to fall into Louis's trap." Augustus scoffed.

"Heartless bastard." Fraser remained silent beneath the deer mask. Water slowly spread farther around his feet. Maria had lost her legs. Louis had tried to kill her. And their father had punished the victim.

"I see." His voice was dangerously calm. Fraser adjusted the shotgun resting against his shoulder.

"I'll have to visit her the next time I'm in the region." Augustus raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know my sister?"

"Only by reputation." Fraser turned toward the imperial balcony before Augustus could question him further. Above them, Lord Ars raised one greasy hand.

"Alright!" The crowd's anticipation erupted into cheers.

"Let the next match of the Round of Sixteen…" Fraser lowered the barrel of his shotgun. Augustus raised his massive club.

"Begin!" The moment the word left Ars's mouth, something fell from the sky. It moved impossibly fast. A sharp impact tore through Augustus's arm, spraying blood across the sand. He staggered.

"What the hell was that?" Augustus looked upward, but there was nothing above him. No weapon. No attacker. Only the clear sky. He tightened his grip around the club and charged. Each step shook the arena as he rushed toward Fraser, swinging the massive weapon directly at his masked head. Before the club could reach him— Another projectile fell. It struck the wooden weapon with enough force to shatter it completely. Splinters exploded in every direction. Augustus stared at the broken handle in his hands.

Then his expression twisted with anger.

"Ability Activate—Colossus!" His body expanded. Muscle and bone swelled as Augustus grew nearly five times his original size. His clothing stretched with him, reshaping itself around his enormous frame. A shadow fell across the battlefield. The crowd roared at the sight of the giant prince. Augustus raised one foot, preparing to crush Fraser beneath it. Another projectile descended. It pierced his leg. Augustus grunted as the limb gave way, forcing him onto one knee.

The impact shook the arena, sending sand outward in a massive wave. Fraser casually stepped aside as Augustus nearly collapsed on top of him.

"What is your ability?" Augustus winced as another shot tore through his remaining leg.

"This is insane!" Fraser rested the shotgun against his shoulder.

"Only a fool would reveal such information during a battle." Augustus forced himself upright. Blood streamed down both legs, but his massive body continued to move. Fraser looked up at him through the hollow eyes of the deer mask.

"Now surrender." His voice lost its earlier amusement.

"Unless you wish to become Valor's third crippled child." Augustus froze. Then anger flared across his face. He pushed himself forward. The air above the arena trembled. Dozens of projectiles began falling at once. They rained down like bullets. Small. Nearly invisible. But devastatingly powerful. They pierced Augustus's enormous body again and again, tearing through muscle and leaving small holes across his arms, chest, and legs. Augustus tried to shield himself. It made no difference.

The barrage struck from every direction above him. One projectile slowed just enough for him to see it before it punched through his finger. His orange eyes widened.

"Water?" Each bullet was nothing more than a condensed droplet. Water compressed under such immense pressure that it struck like ammunition. Within seconds, Augustus's transformation collapsed. His body shrank back to its normal size as he fell onto the sand, covered in wounds. The arena became silent. Fraser approached him calmly. He reached beneath his robes and removed a crimson gem.

"A filthy, bloodstained gift from Father." A Philosopher's Stone. Fraser crushed it in his palm. Blood-red liquid spilled between his fingers and poured across Augustus's wounds. Flesh immediately began knitting itself back together. The holes closed. Broken bones repaired themselves. Augustus stared up at the masked man. His breathing slowed as recognition crept into his expression.

"Fraser…" The deer mask tilted slightly.

"Is that you?" Fraser said nothing. He raised one finger and placed it against the mouth of the mask.

"Shh." Augustus's eyes widened. Fraser stood and turned away. Lord Ars leaned over the edge of the imperial balcony, staring at the defeated prince.

"Already?" He looked almost disappointed.

"That was quick!" The crowd finally erupted.

"But I suppose that is to be expected from such a formidable fighter!" Ars raised both arms.

"The winner is Deer Man!" Fraser walked toward the arena gate without looking back. Water evaporated from the sand behind him. He had barely broken a sweat.