Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

Chapter 234 - 223: Lanci’s Slaughter Squad _1

"Is this necessary?"

Kuise slightly lowered his gaze, looking at the file handed over by Lanci.

The official match’s rules indeed covered some disclaimers and risk disclosures. During the negotiation with student council president Monasite, Dean Sphintos had formed a verbal agreement.

What was handed over was a document merely listing out the rules in detail. Once signed it would carry a formal legal effect.

The terms were simple and straightforward, devoid of any apparent traps. It was purely about determining the winner, and even betting on life and death.

But, it wasn’t like anyone would actually die, given the high specifications of the ancient field barrier technique deployed in the Knight College’s Arena.

"Contestants should lead by example in standardizing the competition."

Lanci spoke solemnly and fairly.

"Excellent, just as I wanted."

Kuise accepted the document with a twitch of his mouth and a cruel smirk.

Even though those on the opposing side seemed a bit odd, the stark gap in power was not something that could be bridged through bluffing and psychological tactics alone.

With this contract established, he need not hold back later on. He will show these reckless fools what cruelty truly means.

After checking the validity and accuracy of the document, Kuise, along with the other fighters, signed the agreement.

Kuise shifted his eyes to gaze at the five people standing behind Lanci, seemingly unable to resist tormenting them.

"So, you both can start the battle after drawing back to a safe distance and having the coach leave the battlefield."

The referee secured the "Knight College’s Arena Team Fight Disclaimer-Risk Acknowledgment" after gathering signatures from all ten fighters and made an announcement.

"Hehe."

Kuise sneered. He turned to Lanci, his thumb tracing across his throat. The threatening gesture seemed to be telling Lanci that he was next.

Lanci didn’t respond. He descended from the battlefield holding only the coach’s portfolio.

He never wastes words.

Drops of rain started to fall from the ominous clouds, getting blown onto the arena’s barrier by the cold wind.

The simple act of looking into the eyes of these adversaries from afar filled the unarmed fighters with a chilling dread.

Heavily clad warriors could take hits and deal them out too, albeit clumsily. Lightly armored fighters had their flexibility and high burst power against their fragile constitution.

Though the field was wide open, it turned into a cage with the barrier outlining it. If a heavily clad warrior had the audacity to lay down some area-effect Magic, they might even be able to block off the fighters’ flexibility.

Though the rules didn’t prohibit carrying weapon Equipment Cards, as fighters, logic dictates that their weapons ought to be something like gloves or arm guards.

But that’s not the main concern.

What was crucial was that the guys from Ichrite had bloodshot eyes, almost popping out of their sockets. Their prolonged tension caused their facial muscles to twitch, lips to tremble, and their breaths to grow erratic. Each intake of breath came with a strange quivering sound.

The heads of those clad in heavy armor bobbed ceaselessly, seemingly suppressing the internal agony and madness.

The costume wear and mental state these guys carried finally stirred an instinctual fear in the people from the Arolan Kingdom.

Others didn’t look convincing enough.

These guys looked incredibly real!

"Heh heh heh heh, it’s time to slaughter the pigs..."

The laughter from the "Soul of Fighters’ Club" members rang out, sounding like the lowest and deepest notes on a piano, with a touch of a metallic undertone.

The only thing that could quench their thirst now was the blood and marrow of the swine before them.

Anek, in the audience stand, widened his eyes, clenching the edge of the table as he stood.

Were these five guys genuinely students of Ichrite Academy?

If one were to suggest they belong to the Resurrection Believers, Anek would have his doubts.

Resurrection Believers usually didn’t dress like this!

Then, on the Battle Square.

"Kill!"

"Battle!"

The fighters leaned forward, as if being dragged by their weapons. The unbelievably rapid rush was fearsomely menacing!