The sun crested the Neon City wall when he made it to the arena. It resembled a football stadium with several underground levels with seven parking garages towering near it. Crystal drone cameras floated near a group of guys making their way toward the stadium. Reporters interviewed gladiator hopefuls in line, leaving behind nervous contestants. Cameras followed the withdrawals.  

 

Silas reviewed the papers in this hand in line, slowly making his way towards the entrance. A good night’s sleep had done him some good. His PL had increased to 75 after some rest taking him to the high end of the double digits. His morning turned out even better when he woke up between Naomi and Amy.

 

The two of them walked beside him, separated by a silk rope. While he was a rookie enlistee, they were customers and nobles. But his sister was nice enough to keep him company.

 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather slide down my throat or up my ass? It’ll be more fun than being ripped apart by a monster.” Naomi said.

 

“I’ll survive,” Silas said.

 

Naomi had asked three times already as they made their way to the front. It was almost like she was worried for his health.

 

“People go to these things to see blood. If there wasn’t a good chance, you would be ripped open no one would watch.” Amy said.

 

“Stop being mean, Amy; maybe you should suck another boy up your butt.” Naomi cupped her mouth. “Who wants to fill up my sexy girlfriend?” Naomi asked, and several guys raised their hands.

 

She pointed to one while Amy undressed. “I have the best girlfriend ever,” Amy said.

 

The former hopeful had already stripped down while Amy turned her ass towards a camera and grabbed the end of a massive butt plug. Silas stared at the thumb-sized hole in the brand name. Amy used it so often that she rubbed some of the brand name off. It was bigger around than both of his fists balled up. Amy grabbed the end and pulled slowly before winking at Silas.

 

“I use this in case Mary wants to join us. Do you want to hold it for me?” Amy asked.

 

Silas took a step back away from the spicy redhead.

 

“That’s fine,” She shook her butt at him, giving him a good view of her gaping anus. “I have nothing but time, and you’re on a deadline. Don’t you think it would be better to give yourself to me than go through painful training only to fail in the end? Even if you succeed, what awaits you?” Amy smirked before opening her mouth again.

 

Naomi covered it before Amy could go on. “Stop teasing my brother; I know you’re jealous. Mary gives him attention.” Naomi snapped her fingers and pulled a box out of her bag. “Mary wanted me to give this to you. She said you may need it in the arena when you get lonely. I think she modeled it herself.” Naomi said.

 

Silas took the box and cracked it open. Inside was a silicon fuckable in the shape of Mary’s pussy. He fumbled with the box for a second, struggling to keep its contents hidden. Then he stared at Amy.  

 

Amy’s butthole sank on top of a man’s head and slowly worked its way down unperturbed with shoulders. Cameras all over the arena pointed at the redhead while she squatted over a well-built gladiator hopeful. Once she reached the boy's knees, she stood up, and like a snake swallowing her prey, Amy’s ass consumed the rest of the volunteer.

 

Naomi rubbed Amy’s massive gut though the nearly 9ft tall Amy handled it well. Amy slipped on her pants as the body moved inside before curling in her guts. Silas stared at Amy’s gaping butthole and dripping wet pussy as she slowly pulled up her white teddy bear-covered panties.

 

“Are you jealous that wasn’t you?” A tough-looking guy around Silas’s age asked. “The women use and abuse us.” The guy gave Silas a knowing look. It smelled like a trap.

 

“Do something about it pussy.” Silas said.

 

The man opened his mouth and closed it. Silas watched the gears change. “Don’t you think I would if I could? I said the wrong thing, and I’m here or down some judge’s throat. What about you, silver spoon? Why are you here?”

 

“I need to grow stronger.” 

 

“You think you have hero potential. Well, I respect your optimism. My name is Bryan; what’s yours.” Bryan said.

 

“Silas, and it's better than dying,” Silas said.

 

“Depends on how you go; we’re surrounded by options and hardly a bad one except where we’re going. The arena is where criminals are killed to deny them pleasure. Some believe if a man is devoured by a woman, they have a good chance of being reincarnated as one. Is that something you believe?” Bryan asked.

 

The line finally started moving as Naomi and Amy went inside to watch. “We’re abused, used, and shat out; believe what you want to feel better about it.”

 

“Well, then, how about joining a group that fights for men’s rights in this messed up world,” Bryan said.

 

“Pass,” Silas said.

 

“Really, you’re Silas of house Valkyrie. I’ve heard of the deadline and what happens when you don’t meet it.” Bryan said.

 

He was losing his patients with the guy. Bryan sounded like a honeypot looking for dissenters. No one approached another guy and started talking about how unfair everything was next to reporters. It wasn’t done, and those who decided to say something were ignored or disappeared.

 

“What’s your power level?” Silas asked.

 

“That’s a rude thing to ask.”

 

“Mine is 75; it was less than one two days ago. So think carefully before writing me off; who knows how strong I’ll be in a week, a month, or a year.” Silas said.

 

“There are plenty who sprint early, your growth will stop soon, and we’ll talk again. Don’t expect me to be as friendly then.” Bryan said.

 

Silas couldn’t help but wonder which branch of the royal family he worked for. But before he could start fishing for more details, they arrived at the entrance. A woman wearing his house colors of blue and silver in traditional armor, complete with a winged helmet, sat across from him behind a desk.

 

She wasn’t one of his many sisters but a cousin from one of his grandaunts. Beatrice was her name, and she had a day job, unlike many women in his house. While most were obsessed with consuming to raise their PL and ranking up, Beatrice had a job as an arena recruiter.

 

Beatrice’s armor had a chip on the breastplate with a piece of tooth poking out of it. There was a rumor a few years back that she had a run-in with one of the black dragon daughters near Glamour swamp. She could have had the armor repaired and filled in the hole, but she left the tooth. Maybe she left it to show off, it could have been a stylistic choice, or it might have been to say I survived. No matter the reason, the bit of tooth remained half buried in the armor, a testament to a life and death struggle his cousin faced. In his eyes, that earned her a little more respect.

 

He handed her his papers and waited patiently.

 

“Mary told me you were coming. She’s fangirling like you’re some big hero. Last we spoke, some boys jumped you in the weight room, and you kicked their asses. Mary was so pissed that she didn’t get a front-row seat in the action she gave the only survivor a hard goodbye. So, killer, I have to ask, why do you want to be a gladiator?” Beatrice asked.

 

“It’s the fastest way to get stronger,” Silas said.

 

“That’s fine; we have dozens of techniques you can learn, but you have to earn them. We’re family, but I’m not going to give you any special favors. If Mary didn’t put in a good word for you, I would have just stamped your papers and sent you on your way. Honestly, I think Mary just sees your father in you.” Beatrice tapped her PL detector. “75, your stronger than Mary said but still average for an enlistee.”

 

Beatrice stamped his papers. “You’re in my hall; that gives you 5 hours to prepare for your first fight in front of a crowd. If you don’t embarrass yourself or, worse, me, then we’ll talk more.” Beatrice said, and he entered the arena.

 

He walked into a half filled with pool tables, punching bags, and screens showing the arena. Mostly old fights were playing with commentary. Two guys were playing billiards while coins exchanged hands among onlookers. Some guys watched the fights intently as a bunch of lioness girls tore into guys that ran. A chimera rampaged, poisoning, burning, and slashing its way through a shield wall.

 

“That fight happened fifty years ago; you can tell by how grainy the picture is.” Silas nodded until he spotted something he hadn’t expected.

 

“My name is Alex; what’s yours?” Alex asked.

 

“Silas, is that machine operational?” Silas asked.

 

“Do you know what it is? I haven’t seen that many squiggles on something, not even the inside of a projector.” Alex said.

 

He found the interface, and there were no active projects. The seals were made by women, but anyone could use the interface.

 

“I’ve never seen something so complicated; what are you doing?” Alex asked.

 

“Creating a 3d model for the machine to print. I think this is where most of our equipment will come from. There are a lot of raw materials loaded in already.” Silas said and went through the custom window shaping runes and connecting them to the finished product.

 

House Valkyrie had 3d printers, but they were always in operation by his sisters and cousins. Mothers and above could normally afford their own printers. The queue was too long, even if he asked Naomi to schedule time on one. It could be months before a spot was freed up.

 

As for the one that landed in his lap, he worked quickly to model what he wanted. He focused on the runes needed to use his flamethrower and added a canister of fuel and a wick for a pilot light. In a sense, he was making an 80s-style flamethrower though its inner workings were different.

 

His reason was simple it would cut down on his mana costs. While his PL was 75, he had F+ mana, but that would only take him so far. Mana regenerated slowly in the new world, so he needed to save what he could. For variety, he added some hydraulics to alter the runic positions of the flamethrower's choke, decreasing the flame's width in exchange for more pressure.

 

“Do you think I could use it next? And what’s the name of your ability?”

 

“Gluttony, and that depends on when Beatrice walks in. I wouldn't have tried if I didn’t know what I wanted to make.” Silas said and hit print. Inside the printer, the machine worked quickly, pouring in metal dust before lasers heated it before adding another layer. Resin was added over certain metal pieces hardening into plastic before his eyes. There were two triggers on the flamer. His front trigger tightened the choke, and the back one opened it. A solid black titanium cylinder covered the runic inner workings hiding his work, so fewer questions were asked.

 

An hour after the printing began, it ended, and he pulled his flamer free. It was light, but that was to be expected. He used light, heat-resistant alloys because it wasn’t firing projectiles or taking hits. Hopefully, the titanium cylinder would tank any wear and tear. Without it, he might be able to use the flamethrower spell for 5 seconds before running out of mana. With it, he had about 300s by his estimation, give or take a few seconds.

 

Silas held up his hand, and a tiny candlelight of silver flame appeared, hovering calmly but ever-hungry. The flame eagerly jumped to the wick, and he waited for any signs of going out of control. When it didn’t melt into the fuel canister immediately, he considered it a moderate success. The fuel canister only fed the candle flame enough to keep it stable. He was the source of the flamethrower’s power.

 

Alex went to the interface and immediately started designing a sword.

 

“What’s your ability?” Silas asked.

 

“Wait and Bleed,” Alex said.

 

“I think I know who your father is,” Silas said.

 

That was the ability of the King of Slaughter. It only needed an edged weapon to start doing damage. But by the look of Alex’s design, it would be a little too convoluted to work. He was making a fantasy blade that would snap due to the number of thin spots.

 

Beatrice walked in and groaned. “Get your hands off the interface. I hope you like your toy; you’re not getting a sword or shield. Now boys line up.” Silas tossed the strap to his weapon over his neck and lined up with everyone else.

 

His cousin paced in front of them like an angry bull. “You’ve been fucked over, and I can do nothing. I’m not going to sugarcoat it; I don’t expect you to survive.” Silas met her eyes and suddenly didn’t like his chances. “Your first match will be against a werewolf,” Beatrice said.

 

…

 

The crowd cheered, but it wasn't for them. Lights dimmed, and sparks exploded in geysers around a rising platform. They weren’t alone; their group was less than fifty, and it would have been boring if only they had died. How could the crowd watch a short show from one of their returning superstars? 7 groups, at least equal in number to theirs, had been marched through the arena gates. The roar he heard came with flashes from hundreds of drones in the air. He saw his own face on one of the giant monitors with mutated under his ability and PL. Even his flamethrower was blown up along with the silver flame at its tip.

 

He wasn’t alone at one time or another; each of them had some of the spotlight. How else could the crowd enjoy the show without an emotional connection? Under his own profile, he was listed as being here to bring glory to house Valkyrie and make his mother proud. Silas wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the main attraction was still rising.

 

Alex bumped his shoulder. “You’re a noble, so you’ve been trained to handle werewolves right. What else is a monster girl trainer for” Alex said?

 

 “We briefly touched on the subject. The hero path doesn’t cross into any major pack territories, but there is the occasional rogue. We were told to try not to look like prey. Running from a werewolf is a death sentence as sure as standing still. They love the chase, and unlike monster wolves, werewolves sweat.” Silas said.

 

“I don’t understand,” Alex said.

 

“Wolf monsters need to pant to cool themselves off, and that’s their vulnerability. A group of heroes can chase them to death, the same for deer monsters. Werewolves have human characteristics like perspiration to cool themselves off. They have no period of vulnerability except their hormone overload during a full moon.” Silas said.

 

He gripped the handle of his weapon tightly as the lights dimmed to low light. Someone shat themselves and collapsed to their knees. Laughter and boos railed against the poor bastard, and a drone came by and picked him up. The smell lingered as the guy was whisked away to a cruel fate.

 

“There has to be something we can do. All monsters have a weakness.”

 

“Your blade is made from a partially silver alloy. It will cut into the werewolf’s hide with light resistance. Maybe you could use your sword if we can wear out or pierce her defensive techniques.” Silas said.

 

“I bet you’re regretting using the printer first,” Alex said.

 

Silas snorted. “You have a sword against one of the fastest and most notorious close-range monsters. It’s a returning contender, which means it has a high-power level to back up its insane speed, which pales in comparison to her experience. If it doesn’t know techniques to leverage its power level and supplement weaknesses, I’ll eat my flamer.” Silas said and smirked. “Good luck getting a hit in.”

 

“We have an army against one monster; if we all fight, then we’ll wear it down,” Alex said.

 

“Announcing returning contender and 5-time winner of the most graceful kill pageant, the wise white wolf, swift seeker of throats, nipper of giant heels, and terror of the arena, Bela.” Massive applause thundered through the arena as the platform opened, revealing a grinning wolf girl with wide sexy hips. Long pointed white ears stood alert on her head, and her fluffy white tail was still. To Silas, it meant sneak attacks were worthless; she would counter them viciously.

 

She put on an earpiece and blew kisses to the crowd. “Thank you to everyone who made it in person to my return tour. I started my debut here in this arena, and you were all kind to me. Since then, I’ve traveled to every city in the boss championship circuit until I had a little trouble in Dark Moon City.” Her ears flattened as some brave soul charged her. She caught the guy’s wrist and slipped into his guard. Bela kissed the poor boy until he dropped his weapon. Then with a single clawed hand, she slashed his throat.

 

The crowd cheered again as a drone captured the surprise on his face as blood gushed from his neck and fell down his shirt.

 

“Poor thing, but at least he was brave enough to try what are you gutless meat sacs scared of little old me. I haven’t even transformed yet, and you're too scared to try. Did the organizers forget to add a wringer to spice things up? So who among you is strong enough to fight me?” Bela twirled a strand of white hair before giggling. “I feel like a wolf in the sheep pen after the ogre already ate the shepherd,” Bela said.

 

Silas sighed and pushed forward. A drone fell on him as his fellow gladiators moved out of the way; to his surprise, Alex was on his heels. “If you don’t want to die, then you should get further back. This won’t be an easy fight; she’s probably faster than me without transforming.” The drone picked up his words and echoed them through the arena.

 

“Oh, there is someone brave, and he looks so tasty. Come on, little sheep, bleat for me, and I might save you for last.” Bela said.

 

“This isn’t a great match-up for you. Surrender, and I’ll only make you suck my dick three times a day.” Silas said.

 

Boos and outcries boomed from all around him, and it felt good. But, despite being the underdog in the fight, the audience clearly labeled him as the bad guy.   

 

“What do you have there, a fancy torch? Are you scared of the dark little sheepy?” Bela said before cackling. “Are you sure you want me to suck on you?” The werewolf said before revealing a mouthful of gruesome fangs, including a chipped tooth.”

 

“Obviously, I’m going to punch your teeth out first,” Silas said.

 

He passed through the crowd of his fellow gladiators and stood across from the white-furred beauty of a werewolf with a big booty.

 

Her tail made it look more enticing. It was a shame Silas had to burn her. Ashes burned beneath his skin, still tempering, hungry to finish the process. Silas reveled in the pain; it kept his mind focused on winning.

 

They moved at superhuman speeds, her fluid and graceful while he poured mana into her flamer. A wide cone of silver flame swallowed the ground in front of him. As claws lunged for his throat.