Chapter 337: The Witch’s Game (2)
Snow made his way toward the largest tent—
If there were answers, they’d be in there.
He slipped in silently.
What greeted him was not a clue ..
But a deafening roar.
Cheers erupted around him as blinding lights struck from above, illuminating the inside of the tent in a dazzling spectacle.
The space had been magically soundproofed .
No noise reached the outside.
Inside, the air was dense with sweat and blood.
Unlike the shrouded figures outside, the people here bared their faces ..
Their skin dry and cracked, their features sharp and worn like they were all suffering from a chronic illness.
Every eye in the crowd was locked on the center ring.
A massive arena.
Lit by piercing lights, the ring served as a battlefield.
Inside, two towering, nearly naked men clashed with oversized spears, fighting like rabid animals.
Their movements were brutal and unrefined—
All offense, no defense.
They struck each other without hesitation, slamming weapons into flesh again and again, until blood soaked the arena and their bodies became unrecognizable pulps of mangled meat.
With every clash between the two giants, the crowd erupted in louder cheers—urging them to fight with even greater brutality.
And in just a few short minutes, one of the behemoths collapsed, slain after a savage and gruesome duel.
The victor roared at the top of his lungs, declaring his triumph.
As soon as the match ended, an even brighter spotlight focused on the center of the arena, revealing a strange man stepping forward.
He wore a black mask and circus-like garments, spreading his arms dramatically toward the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen! The battle is over! Do you know what that means?"
His voice, amplified with aura, boomed through the tent.
And the crowd answered in thunderous unison:
"Feeding time!!"
At their shout, the masked man effortlessly hurled the fallen giant’s corpse high into the air.
With a gleaming blade, he performed a dizzying flourish .. slicing the massive body into chunks of raw flesh that rained down upon the arena like crimson hail.
Limbs. Guts. Chest. Even the face.
The moment those human remains hit the ground, the crowd descended into madness.
Men and women alike threw themselves into a frenzied brawl—biting, clawing, stabbing each other for scraps of meat.
They tore one another apart for a taste of what they considered a delicacy.
And all of it happened right before Snow’s eyes.
He watched, his expression grim.
"This wasn’t a battle..."
His golden gaze scanned the arena, piecing everything together at last.
"These people... came here to eat."
It was then that Snow realized just how naive he had been.
The crowd devoured the human meat like starving beasts.
And once the supply was gone, they turned on each other—consumed by their hunger.
Man or woman—it didn’t matter.
They fought. They killed. They fed on each other like monsters.
Then, when it was finally over and their bloodied faces had feasted, they cheered and danced and sang as if nothing had happened.
They ate, they drank, they celebrated—
Even engaged in public acts of depravity without shame.
Bare. Wild.
Like...
"Animals."
For the first time in his life, Snow felt true despair for humanity.
There was nothing for him here—nothing but rot.
Turning away, he prepared to leave that wretched place behind.
But he stopped.
Something caught his eye.
Something he couldn’t ignore.
He was fine enduring the horror. Fine with the adults.
But what he saw next crossed a line he could not forgive.
As he turned to leave, Snow spotted a hulking man—more beast than human—towering over a small child who looked no older than six.
The man threw the boy to the ground and began beating him savagely.
The boy was tiny, curled up on himself, impossible to notice amidst the chaos.
His screams were drowned by the noise of the crowd, leaving him utterly defenseless.
"Hey."
The brute froze.
Snow had appeared at his side.
"Huh? What the hell do you wan—ughkkk!"
With a single backhanded blow, Snow sent the man flying—his neck twisting a full 360 degrees before he crashed to the ground...
"I messed it up..."
Snow knelt down, reaching out to help the child.
The hero of the Church had managed to ignore everything until now ..
But he couldn’t turn his back on a single child.
"Are you alright?"
He extended a hand.
The boy shakily rose, sobbing.
His frail, naked form was covered only by a filthy white robe.
"T-Thank you, sir..."
Snow gave a faint nod, brushing the dirt and blood from the child’s face.
"Where is your family?"
The boy lowered his head.
"I... I don’t have one."
"Orphaned, then..."
Snow sighed, dusting off the grime from the boy’s robe.
But as he did, his eyes froze on a faint emblem stitched into the cloth.
An emblem that made the air itself grow heavy—
And darkened his face in an instant.
"S-Sir?"
The boy flinched as Snow suddenly grabbed the robe, eyes locked on the symbol.
A dove—wings spread wide in freedom.
It was the exact same dove engraved on the pendant that Snow had worn around his neck his entire life.
"Yosefka..."
He whispered the name, stunned.
"Sir... you know our orphanage?"
The boy’s words confirmed it.
"Impossible..."
Golden eyes blazing with fury, Snow stumbled to his feet—staggered by what he’d just uncovered.
"He shouldn’t be here..."
The orphanage.
Yosefka Orphanage—the one Snow had searched for across the Empire for years.
"Why is he here... among the Ultras?!"
Rage surged through Snow’s veins as he clenched his teeth.
That could only mean one thing—
That bastard is here.
"Hey there, pretty boy. What are you doing all alone?"
Blinded by anger, Snow didn’t notice the group of men who had surrounded him.
"You’re not from around here. Where’d you come from?"
One muscular man wrapped his arm around Snow’s neck and laughed mockingly.
"Not that it matters. Why don’t you come play with us for a bit?"
"Your hand."
Snow’s voice was cold and flat.
"What?"
"Take your filthy hand off me."
Despite Snow’s slim build and composed tone, the killing intent he radiated was suffocating.
The man’s grin faded. He tightened his grip.
"You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone so pretty... I’ll make sure you—"
BOOM!
Before anyone could react—before even the boy could blink—
The man exploded into a crimson mist, blown apart by the radiant sword that had appeared in Snow’s hand out of thin air.
"I was trying to keep a low profile. Make things easier for me and my friends."
BOOM!
"But I’ve changed my mind."
With another swing, the rest of the group were shredded—erased in a flash of light and blood.
"All of you will die here."
Consumed by pure wrath, Snow launched himself into the crowd.
The orgy of madness turned to a slaughter.
Every light that had once brightened the arena shattered, plunging the tent into pitch-black chaos. Screams of confusion erupted from the Ultras ..
And in the heart of it all, one light remained:
A glowing white sword, and two golden eyes burning with fury.
Snow carved through them like a reaper.
No mercy. No hesitation. Only death.
The Ultras scrambled to escape, trampling over one another in blind panic. But they couldn’t outrun the Vermithor Blade—
Not when it cleaved through them faster than they could breathe.
The blood flowed like rivers.
Most died by Snow’s hand.
The rest were crushed under the feet of their own.
He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
That man—
The one he had searched for all those years—
Was closer now than ever before.
Snow had become a storm of death.
When the lights flickered back to life, he stood alone in the ring..
Soaked in blood, surrounded by heaps of torn, mangled corpses.
Expression grim, he turned away.
He could no longer bear the stench of that cursed place.
But just as he walked past the bodies, something caught his eye.
A small figure, crushed under the weight of the stampede.
The boy.
The same boy he had saved—trampled to death in the chaos Snow himself had unleashed.
Most likely, the boy had screamed.
But no one heard him.
"What makes me any different from him?"
The pig who beat him?
Or Snow, who got him killed?
Which was worse?
"Damn it..."
Snow cursed under his breath and scanned the area.
"Where’s their leader?"
The masked man.
Snow just wanted to fight .. to forget.
To drown in blood and let go of everything he’d buried deep inside.
But when he found the body of the masked man tossed in a corner—already dead—
Even that hope was gone.
"Burn in hell..."
With a single command, Snow ignited the entire tent.
Flames erupted from the ground, setting the main structure ablaze.
The Ultras outside panicked, surrounding the burning tent in confusion and terror.
Snow walked out through them ..
His body drenched in blood, his presence suffocating.
No one dared move.
No one dared breathe.
Because the killing intent he radiated was unbearable.
He had come here searching for information.
But what he found...
Was something far worse.
The shadows of his past.
Memories buried deep within ..
The kind that clawed their way back from the abyss no matter how hard he tried to forget.
The shadows of Yosefka.
And within Snow’s golden eyes, those memories flickered ..
Unwelcome. Unrelenting.