Brazil: Criminal Empire - Chapter 148: The True Demon King Is Born (Patreon)

By now, every corner of the underground fighting arena echoed with a single chant.

"Demon King!"

Rock stood quietly in the center of the ring, listening to the crowd roar themselves hoarse.

At his feet lay the final challenger, an underground fighter nicknamed Beast.

The fight had been simple.

Rock had lifted the man over his head and slammed him into the floor so hard that he lost consciousness.

By the standards Rock had established throughout the Demon King Arena Challenge, it was actually one of his gentler victories.

Earlier in the night, whenever Rock defeated someone and then stood silently in the ring, many spectators had assumed he was deliberately trying to look intimidating.

But after sixteen consecutive victories, he was still standing there with exactly the same calm expression.

By now, that silence only made him seem even more unfathomable.

Sixteen consecutive victories was an extraordinarily difficult record to achieve anywhere in the underground fighting world.

And everyone in the arena had witnessed it firsthand.

With an almost invincible performance, Rock had become the final winner of this week's Demon King Arena Challenge.

In a single night, his record had gone from zero fights to sixteen victories, with eleven opponents killed in the ring.

He had claimed the title of Demon King.

In underground fighting, only a fighter who won at least five consecutive matches could be called a Demon King.

Anyone below that was simply a winner.

And among everyone who had ever earned the title, Rock's sixteen-fight streak gave his the greatest weight.

While he waited for the organizers to present his prize money, Rock turned his attention to the system interface.

Throughout the string of fights, whether he killed an opponent had mostly depended on his mood.

Unfortunately for his opponents, more of them had annoyed him than not.

As a result, he had killed several more and obtained Experience Cards of various values.

Experience Card: 50 EXP x2

Experience Card: 100 EXP x2

Experience Card: 150 EXP x1

Experience Card: 200 EXP x1

Experience Card: 300 EXP x1

A total of 950 experience points.

Rock looked through his Skills and pushed several that might prove useful to the Advanced level, then put the remaining experience into Demolition.

Pistol Shooting: Advanced (9/1000)

Rainforest Survival: Advanced (35/1000)

Rainforest Stealth: Advanced (119/400)

Demolition: Advanced (803/1000)

After every fight, Rock had also merged any duplicate Skills that could be combined.

He noticed an interesting pattern.

A surprising number of fighters trained in Muay Thai and Kyokushin Karate, so several of the opponents he defeated or killed had dropped those Skills.

As a result, both were pushed straight into the Master level.

He also obtained another Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Skill, which merged directly with his previous Gracie Jiu-Jitsu.

More interestingly, several fighters had dropped unexpected Skills and Talents.

Some of them were surprisingly useful.

Rock's Skill panel changed again.

Muay Thai: Master (315/5000)

Kyokushin Karate: Master (633/5000)

Kickboxing: Advanced (517/1000)

Freestyle Wrestling: Advanced (729/1000)

Krav Maga: Advanced (295/1000)

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu: Advanced (673/1000)

Sambo: Advanced (528/1000)

Armed Helicopter Piloting: Intermediate (290/400)

Mortar Shooting: Intermediate (187/400)

Filipino Stick Fighting: Intermediate (252/400)

Rope Restraint: Advanced (899/1000)

Joint Resilience (Talent: Joint impact resistance is 5 times that of an average person. Shoulder range of motion reaches 190 degrees, compared with 160 degrees for an average person. Ankle torque when changing direction reaches 320 N·m, compared with 80 N·m for an average person. Can switch between 3 different step rhythms within 0.2 seconds.)

Damage Resistance & Recovery (Talent: Muscle regeneration speed is twice that of an average person. Blood IGF-1 [insulin-like growth factor] concentration is 50% above normal. Achilles tendon tensile strength reaches 5,000 newtons, compared with 3,000 for an average person.)

Another surprisingly useful Skill seemed to have slipped into the collection.

Judging by its Advanced level, whoever had possessed it before had clearly practiced it extensively.

Rock couldn't help wondering whether the women in Brazil would appreciate that particular Skill.

He was extremely satisfied with the two new Talents.

Physical attributes already several times beyond ordinary limits, combined with Talents like these, made for an overwhelming combination.

The two Skills that had reached the Master level also improved Rock's Physical Constitution again.

Perhaps because both were primarily external fighting styles, the increase wasn't dramatic.

Still, an improvement was an improvement.

His muscles, tendons, bones, and connective tissues strengthened further.

Age: 25

Physical Constitution: 28.5

Spirit: 27

Just as Rock finished sorting through his new Skills, the referee who had been keeping his distance outside the octagon finally received instructions from the organizers.

He hurried into the cage with a broad smile.

"Congratulations."

Then he raised Rock's right arm and shouted emotionally into the microphone.

"Everyone, rise to your feet! Let your cheers witness the birth of tonight's true Demon King, Inferno, here at the Red Nut fighting arena!"

Shouts, screams, and whistles once again filled the entire venue.

The gamblers who had made money betting on Rock were especially loud.

With a Demon King this powerful, they would keep backing him until the day someone finally defeated him.

Everyone felt a certain pride in having witnessed the miracle of sixteen consecutive victories in a ring where every fight could end in death.

This was a world most wealthy people would never even know existed.

And tonight, they had witnessed history.

At the entrance to the octagon, Tarcísio had also been swept up in the atmosphere.

He couldn't help saying once again, "Now that's a boss worth following."

Standing beside the cage, he wore a broad smile as though he shared in Rock's glory.

On the other side of the arena, Rafael was so excited he could barely contain himself.

For the first time, he understood how comfortable Ezio's usual work could be.

There was no need to constantly maintain a respectable, serious appearance.

Inside a place like this, you could shout when you wanted, curse when you wanted, and apparently even get so excited you lost control of yourself without anyone caring.

What an easy life.

Maybe after going back, he should trade positions with Ezio...

Absolutely not.

Ezio was excellent at his job and should continue developing in this field.

Now that he had established a connection with someone like Rock, Rafael was certain Ezio would thrive here.

Rock was unquestionably the biggest star of the night.

With confetti filling the air alongside the lingering smell of blood, he made his way through the fighters' passage back toward his room.

As he passed the stands, spectators treated the chance to touch the hands that had killed so many opponents as an honor.

So, like a celebrity, Rock extended both hands and exchanged high-fives with the spectators lining the passage.

Then his hand touched a pale palm that felt strangely sticky.

Rock's expression immediately changed.

Ignoring the woman in the stands who was desperately batting her eyelashes at him, he quickened his pace and disappeared into the fighters' tunnel.

Meanwhile, several wealthy women in the front-row VIP seats were already asking staff members whether there was any possibility of meeting such a powerful man privately.

The entire arena was celebrating.

Whether they had made money or lost it, almost everyone seemed satisfied with how the night had ended.

But inside one of the venue's rooms, five or six tattooed men were gathered around a television drinking beer.

The letters "CV" were clearly tattooed on their necks.

"Porra. That lucky bastard must've made a fortune tonight."

The burly bald man of mixed heritage facing the screen spat onto the floor.

"Boss Valdo, he made eight million dollars tonight."

A thin subordinate beside him spent a while tapping numbers into a calculator before giving Valdo the answer.

"Filho da puta. We bust our asses coming back and forth every week, representing the gang and supporting this event, and we only get one million dollars. What the hell did he do to deserve eight?"