"Damnit, I was acting cool but how the fuck am I supposed to kill someone that cannot be touched?" Kaden said with irritation as he found himself inside the darkness of death again.

He was dying a little bit too much lately. And he knew he would die again many times with how nonsensical that Slave was.

He could not be touched? He was inevitable?

What kind of power was that?

Is that why gods feared him?

Kaden's brain was running at full speed as he tried to grasp that Slave's existence.

He couldn't.

But he could, at least, have some notion about him. The Slave had said it himself…

…He could not be killed by someone with weaker Will than him.

Let alone kill him, he couldn't even be touched without a higher Will. So the answer to Kaden's headache was obvious…

He just needed to get a higher Will than him and kill him.

The Slave was not faster than him, nor stronger. He was just able to hurt him, and Kaden was not. If he managed to counterattack that, then his win would be as obvious as the fact that water is wet.

"I need a higher Will," he concluded, just as something flashed in his mind.

Maybe what made the Slave special was his Origin. An Origin related to Will?

He suddenly became excited thinking about that. But before his thoughts could run wild in that direction—

[You have been killed by the Whisper of The Undefeated Slave. He is a being of Will, created by a meager part of The Undefeated's Will.]

[You cannot obtain anything except Will from him.]

[You have obtained Will stats: 50.]

Kaden fell silent.

'So that man is just a Will? A Will can take human form? A Will can talk? A Will can hold so much emotion behind it?'

How come? How could a Will do so many things?

Had he been using his Will stats in the wrong way, or was it just that the Will of the Undefeated was special?

Kaden didn't know why, but his instincts led him toward the second option. Because if even the gods didn't have a higher Will than someone who was supposed to be a simple man on earth…

…then it wasn't him using it wrongly, but rather that Slave's Will was different.

"How can I make my Will as special as his?" Kaden asked.

He felt like this was the cue of his quest.

The Will had asked him if Death was inevitable, if Death could be killed or defeated…

He now understood it was referring to the Slave. He looked like a being Death had failed to drag to the afterlife.

Because his Will of inevitability might be more unique than Death's own.

The very thought of that was unimaginable for Kaden.

How could something be more inevitable than death itself? Something all life forms would have to experience?

It's… it's a Wonder.

Kaden sighed. Death answered his question.

[Learn from him.]

"Learn from him, huh?"

"Is that all?"

[Learn, understand, die and obtain his Will. Mold his Will into your own and take what is unique about it, to make it unique for you.]

"So I have to die?"

[Yes.]

"How many times?"

[As many as necessary.]

"Will my mind keep up with the numerous consecutive deaths?"

[Your growing Will will make you able to keep up.]

"What if it doesn't, then?"

Death fell silent for a brief second, then—

[Are you afraid, Host?]

"Shouldn't I?" Kaden shrugged.

"Death is my power, I bloody get it, but dying over and over again is not something I particularly fancy. Especially if there's a possibility my Will doesn't keep up."

Kaden had accepted the necessity of death for power. But not so many in such a short amount of time.

It was not a matter of being a coward. It was a matter of not truly dying a ridiculous death.

For example, by destroying your own bloody mind.

In the end, he didn't fear death itself. He feared the consequences of it on his psyche.

[Do you have any other choices?]

Here, Kaden smiled.

"I don't."

[Listen, Kaden.]

Kaden instinctively straightened his back as Death called his name.

It had never spoken this seriously outside a quest.

He listened.

[Power must be claimed. And to claim it you must shed blood. People from different eras have done the same. They fought, they bled, they suffered, they cried, and some even lost their mind in the process. But they obtained power.]

[One became Emperor of an Empire never seen before, another dwells in places your feeble mind cannot fathom, others created houses with legacies deeper than even yours, and others live among us, their eyes everywhere.]

Kaden clenched his fists.

[But you, Host. You, Kaden Warborn. You will not only gain power by bleeding, by crying, by suffering… but also by dying.]

[So tell me, goodman, what do you think you would become with this much cost? If others are emperors of men, what will you be?]

"I will be the god of men." His voice was resolute.

[Exactly. Don't forget, Kaden.]

[The greater the cost, the greater the reward.]

[Now, go die, goodman. Go be what you are supposed to be.]

"Lord of Death?"

[Greater.]

He chuckled.

"I guess a little bit of madness is inevitable for a being like me."

"Revive me, Death."

He grinned with madness dancing in his crimson eyes.

"Time to learn from a bloody slave."

[That's the spirit, goodman!]

And so…

Tick—!

The circle of deaths and rebirths started.

…

Meanwhile, in a place where Freedom was a myth.

Fokay — Underground Game of Freedom.

"Good Sir, are you sure about your decision?" A man spoke. His voice was eerily similar to the presenter of the games in the underground.

It was him after all.

His hair was yellow with matching eyes. He wore a formal black suit. He looked quite old for young ones. Around thirty or so.

His name was Antsy.

He was inside a luxurious room covered in gold.

Not gold as a color.

But truly made of gold, the metal.

Antsy was bowing his head lightly toward a direction. There sat a man on a gold throne.

Even calling him fat would be a compliment. He was above that concept. He looked like a balloon about to burst.

His cheeks were puffed like a squirrel with an abundance of nuts in its mouth. His luxurious suit looked like it would tear apart with any subtle movement.

He had violet hair with matching eyes, a black mustache.

But still, his face was fair and handsome.

"Are you questioning me?" the Fat Man said. His voice was filled with authority, even though it sounded like an out-of-breath man speaking.

Antsy lowered his head further. "No, Good Sir. It's just…the boy is favored by The Scarred. You doing this…" he didn't continue his words.

The Fat Man understood perfectly. But it wasn't like he cared.

"I am giving him the opportunity to be an Intermediate with a Legendary-rank evolution stone," he almost growled. "Will Scarred dare to come to me? If that boy dies it will be his fault, his own inadequacies."

"And what if he is angry?" He scoffed.

"I have my House behind me."

'He has his House too, dumbfuck. And his House is fucking bloody.' Antsy wanted to shout this at him, but he loved his poor life too much to provoke this bear of a man.

So he simply gave him a strained smile.

"It will cost you many Freedom Points, Good Sir."

"Take it all," he said dismissively.

"Who are we going to put him against in the duel game? One of the higher rank? An A rank?" Antsy asked again.

"What A rank? Let's make it S r—!"

The Fat Man suddenly stopped. A wide open smile stretched across his face.

It was unholy to see that kind of smile on such a face.

Antsy didn't know if he should laugh or cry at the sight.

But the next words of the Fat Man made him freeze.

"I am a merciful person. I don't want him to fight higher rank. He would die, after all."

He smirked evilly.

"I want him to fight a member of his own team."

Antsy's eyes widened.

"Good Sir! It's not—!"

"Silence, Ant. I know it's allowed, do not take me for a fool. I just need to pay more, right? I will pay more. And you cannot refuse this, little Ant."

"This underground is made for games. For thrills. The spectators want that kind of game. And what more thrilling than seeing two members of the same team fighting?"

"Do you understand me?"

Antsy didn't say anything.

He didn't even know why he was surprised.

They were all the same. All of them.

All of those Houses.

They saw the lives of those lesser than them as nothing but tools to use for their own wicked purposes.

He chuckled bitterly inwardly as he looked at the palm of his right hand where something was inscribed.

A number.

1256.

He shook his head, lowering it even further. His tone became lifeless. Robotic.

"I am but a slave, Good Sir. I am here to obey. And your orders will be fulfilled."

Sky… oh Sky…

Welcome to the real game.

—End of Chapter 235—

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