Chapter 32: Kim Taehan

Time had flown by. A whole week had already passed. Taehoo maintained his physical condition at optimal levels, just as Jintae had demanded.

Of course, it wasn’t simply to win at the Arena.

Jintae’s plan had become clear while Taehoo was regulating his condition.

He had solidified the idea he had been pondering continuously.

The resulting strategy was nothing short of audacious.

First, Taehoo would participate in the Arena and win decisively with overwhelming skill.

Then, as all eyes turned to Taehoo, the children would storm the Arena and capture the VIPs.

Jintae intended to use the captured VIPs as hostages to demand ransom, securing funds to revive their clan.

At the same time, through this incident, they would reveal to the entire world how valuable the Belial Clan was as spies and assassins.

That clan was none other than their own—

The clan of Kim Jintae.

The reason they had chosen the fifteen-day window was to coincide with the days when the largest number of VIPs would gather at the Arena.

They had anticipated this much since choosing the Arena as the stage, but the plan was even bolder than expected.

“The Arena… it was one of the things I wanted to get rid of,”

Taehoo thought.

Jintae’s plan, ironically, would fulfill Taehoo’s own desire.

“Jintae must have surpassed level 20 by now.”

That was Taehoo’s estimate of his combat strength.

In other words, barring unforeseen circumstances, even if he, Muncheol, and Juhyeok all charged at him together, they wouldn’t be able to handle him.

That was exactly why Nachal predicted that Taehoo and Muncheol would ultimately fail.

Of course, that was only if there were no special variables.

“I… will proceed as planned.”

Taehoo finished recounting Jintae’s entire scheme.

The elderly man listening quietly fixed his gaze on him.

“I’ve been doing this for quite some time, but you’re the first to use us so thoroughly.”

The old man, who rarely showed emotion, gave a laugh of disbelief.

“Never before have I seen someone take such flawless advantage of us.”

He concluded his words.

The man sitting before Taehoo was the very same elder he had met when first using the Information Broker in the Sewer.

Kim Taehan. That was his name.

“It’s simply a matter of aligned interests,” Taehoo replied.

He was an impressive kid, indeed.

From the moment he started using them, to pulling out information that sealed their mouths, he’d demonstrated an extraordinary talent.

But trading information with them over the past week had been on an entirely different level.

Taehan felt that even calling it “talent” was an insult to the boy before him.

The desire buried deep behind his curtain-like lowered eyes began to surface.

The Sewer’s Cockroach.

That nickname wasn’t given without reason.

The Information Broker organization he belonged to had been formed after the Sewer came into existence, to help the weak survive.

Like all bottom-dwellers, they were swept in like the tide and washed away like the ebb.

But for over half a century, the Information Broker had maintained its collective.

Of course, it had come with sacrifices. It hadn’t been easy.

The man currently leading them—

The number that had been appended to him after half a century was proof enough.

Taehan had led the Information Broker for nearly twenty years.

He knew the fierce nature of this place better than anyone.

And because of that knowledge, he harbored a single desire.

He wanted a power that no one in the Sewer could challenge.

Taehan felt the boy before him could take a step toward that power.

That intuition was strong.

Therefore,

“I will provide as much information as you want. If your plan succeeds, I hope you’ll credit us for our role as well.”

“That’s only fair,”

Taehoo answered.

Taehan’s flexibility and boldness—his ability to trust his judgment and stake everything on a single kid—were why he’d survived as the leader of the Information Broker for so long.

Taehoo left the shanty behind.

The Sewer’s Information Broker.

He had gathered every resource he could.

Skills were prohibited in the Arena.

He had to conceal the fact that his stats were being enhanced as much as possible.

“Be careful. Some VIPs are familiar with Hunters.”

That was Jintae’s warning.

Revealing his powers would only be after victory, when the real work began.

So Taehoo devoted the remaining time to sharpening his body like a lethal weapon.

He sparred dozens of times a day with Muncheol and Juhyeok.

It was a kind of bulk-up.

Taehoo’s senses had become that sharp.

The sound of his own breath echoing inside the mask was ringing in his ears.

The waiting room of the Arena.

That was where Taehoo sat wearing his mask.

“Alright, kid. Today your goal is to reach the semifinals. Remember that. Otherwise, your little brother won’t have a meal!”

A grown man said as much, slapping the cheek of the boy before him.

He was the organizer who raised children as fighting dogs.

“Yes, understood.”

The kid, slapped for some ridiculous reason to make him nervous, bit his split lip in silence.

These children had their lives pawned for unknown reasons to the organizer.

“Kids’ blood should be spilled on the stage. What else is it for?”

A bespectacled man snapped at the man who slapped the kid.

He was the promoter who made money off them.

None of them came from above.

They were all in cahoots, competing only over who was crueler and more inhuman.

“This is absurd. Absolutely absurd.”

Ba’al muttered with amusement.

“This ends today.”

Taehoo thought.

Today, the two constellations of the Order of Absolute Evil, and the Nam Clan, the unrivaled family of the Order of Absolute Good in Korea—

Three clans and constellations were about to collide in a massive event.

Given such a development, it was nonsense for the Arena to remain intact.

“This will give our clan an excuse to intervene directly in the Sewer.”

Two devil constellations were involved; there was more than enough justification.

“Alright, Masked Boy. Your turn. Step up.”

The bespectacled man gave a nagging comment before pointing directly at Taehoo.

“My goodness, what’s with this outdated mysticism? A fighting dog wearing a mask to fight?”

He called out Taehoo, openly mocking him.

“I just don’t like mysticism,”

the suspicious man muttered.

He was the Arena master’s personal opinion.

“So I prepared a little gift for you because I don’t like you.”

Ignoring the nonsense from the bespectacled man, Taehoo’s steps carried him from the underground waiting room to the Arena entrance.

The man mounted the stage with a look that said, “Look forward to it.”

Beep—

The cheap microphone crackled through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen who’ve come to the Sewer, thank you for visiting the Arena once again today!”

The formal greeting buzzed and crackled through the old speaker.

“Our first fighter! The reigning five-time champion of the tournament and king of the Arena! The man who always draws a crowd! Strong Iron Fist!”

At the same moment, cheers erupted all around.

“So this is the ‘gift’,”

Taehoo thought.

They certainly intended to eliminate him right from the start.

“Strong Iron Fist, huh…”

From the information Jintae had given him, the five-time champion was known not only for his titles but for being a merciless fighting dog.

“I remember the info saying he’s perfectly suited to be a fighting dog.”

Recalling the stored information, Taehoo even felt a hope that he would die rather than simply be defeated.

Though it wasn’t particularly relevant to him.

“Next fighter! This is a newcomer to the Arena! Facing Strong Iron Fist in the first round!”

“Well, what a pity,”

came a spiteful act.

“Introducing a truly unlucky fellow! Arena Masked Nam. Bel!”

“Bel” was the pseudonym Jintae had given to Taehoo.

The mask was put on him out of fear that someone might recognize him by name or face as Joseph.

No matter if he annoyed the master or not; none of the talk about the five-time champion or Strong Iron Fist mattered.

This was Jintae’s vote of confidence in Taehoo.

“You’ve become quite the Face of Trust, haven’t you?”

Ba’al chuckled but didn’t pay it much mind.

Taehoo stepped onto the stage. The scenery spread out before him.

He wondered how such a colossal Colosseum could exist in an underground city.

It was crude but appeared to hold about 5,000 people at a glance.

The Colosseum was even a domed structure.

“The Sewer’s most profitable business isn’t an exaggeration,”

Taehoo admitted silently.

He was also impressed by Jintae’s thorough investigation of every VIP to be taken hostage within this crowd.

Sweat, alcohol, mismatched perfume, and cosmetic scents—all mingled into a chaotic stench.

The bespectacled man, the Arena master, stood at the center.

Opposite him stood a towering man, at least two meters tall.

“Is that really someone your age?”

Ba’al said in admiration.

“How much drugs has he been pumped with?”

Taehoo was shocked by the sheer size, even more than in the photos.

Ignoring height, the muscle development and physical condition were absurd.

He looked like his entire body, even his brain, had been replaced with muscle—absurdly large muscles and scars covered his entire form.

It was a glimpse into how inhumanely fighting dogs were treated.

They were closer to war machines than humans.

“Before the fight begins, let’s hear from the fighters!”

The Arena master pushed his glasses up and handed the microphone to Strong Iron Fist.

Showmanship was an essential part of the proceedings.

“This victory will be mine again… so you,”

Strong Iron Fist pointed at Taehoo with a brutal hand.

“Prepare to die.”

“Seriously? Has his brain turned into muscle or something?”

Ba’al was stunned by Strong Iron Fist’s verbal skills.

Waaaah!

The crowd cheered wildly, as if they liked the open death threat.

“Yes! A true interview befitting a five-time champion! Next, Bel!”

Taehoo was handed the microphone. Mocking eyes were the bonus.

He held the mic and scanned the audience.

Looking up at the faces on stage, it was like a swarm of potatoes floating around.

The bald heads especially looked like peeled potatoes.

He bent his head to stifle a brief laugh.

Because of the slight trembling from this, the audience assumed he was nervous and couldn’t speak.

Scornful laughter broke out.

“Oh, Bel. You’re too nervous to say a word! Let me take that back for you…”

Just as they tried to snatch the microphone back,

“Reverse Gambler?”

Taehoo’s voice spilled through the speakers.

No matter how much of a five-time champion he was, there were sure to be those who’d placed reverse bets.

Taehoo glanced back over the crowd.

“You’re making a killing today thanks to me.”

Of course, no one would be leaving this place alive today.