I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Chapter 234: Lucky number 60

The fighting pit echoed with raucous shouts and jeers, a mix of excitement that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Undercity.

It was fight day, and the air crackled with anticipation for the match between Zafron and Sakura against the infamous duo of Draco and the Butcher.

Around the edges of the pit, onlookers jostled for position, their voices rising in a chaotic blend of predictions and wagers.

"Fifty units on Draco and the Butcher!" a gruff voice called out. "Those newbies don't stand a chance!"

"I'll take that bet," another responded, though his voice lacked conviction. "You never know, might get lucky."

A third chimed in, "Lucky? Against Draco? You're throwing your units away, mate."

The majority seemed to side with Draco, his reputation as an undefeated fighter overshadowing any potential upset.

Still, a few brave souls placed their bets on the underdogs, hoping for a miracle and a big payout.

Amidst the chaos, Zafron stood off to the side, concentrated, as Matilda spoke to him in hushed, urgent tones.

"Zafron, please," Matilda pleaded, her eyes wide with worry. "You need to be careful out there. This isn't just another fight. These men... they're monsters."

Zafron managed a small smile, trying to project confidence he didn't entirely feel. "I'll be fine, Matilda. I always am, remember?"

"Promise me," she insisted, gripping his arm. "Promise me you'll keep yourself alive out there."

"I promise," Zafron said softly. "I'll do what I've always done. Survive."

[Oh yes, because that's such a comforting thought,] Calista's sarcastic voice echoed in his mind. [Your track record of near-death experiences is truly inspiring, my lord.]

Before Zafron could retort, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar.

A man with a microphone and a small speaker strapped to his chest had appeared, his voice booming over the chaos.

"Ladies and gentlemen, scum and villainy of the Undercity!" the hype man bellowed, his voice crackling with static. "Are you ready for the fight of the century?"

The crowd's response was thunderous, a wall of sound that seemed to make the very air vibrate.

"Then let me introduce to you, the undefeated champions of the pit, the terrors of the Undercity... DRACO AND THE BUTCHER!"

As if on cue, two figures emerged from the shadows, their presence eliciting a fresh wave of cheers and screams from the audience.

The hype man's voice rose to a fever pitch. "First, the man, the myth, the legend... DRACO! Fifty nine fights, fifty nine victories! UNBEATABLE!"

Draco strode forward, his unkempt hair framing a face set in a perpetual scowl. His blue eyes, cold as ice, scanned the crowd with disdain. Each step he took oozed confidence and barely contained violence.

"And behind him, the man who puts fear into the hearts of entire villages... THE BUTCHER!"

The crowd's chant grew louder, "BUTCHER! BUTCHER! BUTCHER!"

The Butcher followed in Draco's wake, a mountain of a man with muscles that seemed to strain against his skin.

His bald head gleamed in the harsh light of the pit, and where his left arm should have been, there was only a short metal base. But it was his face that drew the eye - a metallic jaw that gave his neutral expression an eerie, inhuman quality.

"Known far and wide as the VILLAGE SLAYER!" the hype man continued, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

As Draco and the Butcher made their way to the center of the pit, Sakura approached Zafron and Matilda.

She was adjusting a lace wrapped around her left hand, her movements precise and practiced.

"Ready for this?" Sakura asked, her tone casual despite the gravity of the situation.

Zafron nodded, his jaw set. "As ready as I'll ever be."

A smirk played on Sakura's lips. "Not scared, are you?"

"Me? Scared?" Zafron scoffed, though his heart raced. "Never."

[Oh please,] Calista chimed in. [Your knees are practically knocking together, my lord.]

Zafron chose to ignore Calista's comment, focusing instead on Matilda, whose face had gone pale at the sight of the Butcher.

"Sakura," Matilda asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "what did he mean by 'Village Slayer'?"

Sakura's expression darkened. "It's not just a nickname. He slaughtered an entire village in Lumina, all because he was looking for the person who poisoned his dog."

[Oh splendid, we're fighting a dog-loving psychopath. This day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?]

Matilda's eyes widened in horror. "I... I've heard stories, but I never thought..." She trailed off, her gaze fixed on the imposing figure of the Butcher.

"Zafron," Matilda said, turning back to him with renewed urgency. "Please, be careful."

"I will be," Zafron assured her, squeezing her hand. "I promised, remember?"

Before Matilda could respond, a match official stepped into the center of the pit, calling for the fighters to approach. Zafron and Sakura exchanged a look before making their way forward.

As they left, Matilda's gaze drifted to where Shadow and Whisper stood, animatedly discussing odds with a group of onlookers. Her eyes narrowed, a mix of anger and disgust twisting her features.

'I hate them,' she thought bitterly. 'If this match goes well, it'll be the last time I ever have to deal with their schemes.'

In the center of the pit, Zafron and Sakura faced off against Draco and the Butcher.

The Butcher's face remained impassive, but Draco's lips curled into a sneer as he locked eyes with Zafron. When his gaze shifted to Sakura, his expression changed to a mocking smile, which she pointedly ignored.

The match official cleared his throat. "The rules for this tag team match are as follows: The match will last for 5 minutes, with one teammate from each side facing off. Teammates can swap places by pressing a button at the edge of the arena. If one fighter is knocked out, their team loses. If there's no clear winner after 10 minutes, it becomes a free-for-all with all four fighters."

He gestured to four cards laid face-down on the ground. "To determine who starts, each of you will pick a card. There are two black cards and two white cards, each with either a 1 or 2 on them. The ones who pick 1 will start the match."

Draco went first, flipping over a white card with a 2. The Butcher followed, revealing a black card with a 1. Sakura picked next, turning over a white card with a 2, leaving Zafron with the black card bearing a 1.

As Sakura stepped back, she leaned in close to Zafron. "Try to survive," she murmured. "If you need help, hit that button. Don't be a hero."

Zafron nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. As Sakura retreated, he noticed Draco approach the Butcher, whispering something in his ear before removing a gauntlet from his own hand and passing it to his partner.

The Butcher slipped it on, and Zafron's eyes were drawn to a black crystal embedded in the metal.

[Well, well, what do we have here? A secret handoff and hushed whispers. I'm sure it's nothing nefarious, my lord. Perhaps they're just sharing fashion tips for murderous psychopaths. That crystal accessory is all the rage, I hear.]

Before Zafron could process the situation, the match official raised his hand. "Fighters ready?"

The Butcher touched the base of his truncated left arm, and a wicked-looking blade sprang forth from the metal base. He turned to Zafron, a cruel smile twisting his metallic jaw.

"Ready for a world of pain, boy?" the Butcher growled, his voice a grating metallic rasp.

Zafron swallowed hard, settling into a fighting stance.

He could feel the eyes of the crowd boring into him, could hear the jeers and the cheers, could sense Matilda's worry and Sakura's intensity. But most of all, he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

[Well, my lord,] Calista's voice echoed in his mind, uncharacteristically serious, [it seems we're in for quite the spectacle. Do try not to die, won't you? It would be such an inconvenience.]

As the match official's hand came down, signaling the start of the fight, Zafron took a deep breath.

This was it.

No turning back now.