New Life As A Lewd Futanari Succubus

Beatrice looked around to see if anyone would volunteer. The succubus was a newcomer to these games and this world as a whole, but she was savvy enough to understand that the likelihood of anything good coming out of such volunteering was slim to none. And considering the reservation of other participants, as well as the unwavering excitement of the spectators, it was apparent that to Beatrice that she made the right choice.

“Hm… Not a single brave soul?” Thelicia asked with disappointment when nobody answered her call for volunteers. “And here I thought we had potential champions participating… It looks like this time we have a bunch of chumps instead! How sorry I am to all the spectators that have gathered.”

Yeah, right! Beatrice would not fall for such cheap tricks. Thelicia spoke about “rounds” and this is some sort of pre-game diversion while the spectators place their bets. Either it will turn into a completely pointless exercise or it will end horribly for whoever gets involved. 

Beatrice noticed Olivia clench her fist at the insult, but the ninja girl remained in place as well.

One man raised his hand. The giant sphere up above the arena zoomed in on the brave soul who had his skinny, trembling arm raised above his head, displaying him in spectacular detail for all the spectators to see.

“Wonderful! Now there’s a heart of a champion!” Thelicia exclaimed with renewed passion. “Lucky number thirteen! Step forward, step forward! Separate yourself from your lesser competitors! Stand tall and proud!”

Many in the crowd laughed as Number Thirteen could not stand tall even if he tried. His only separation from the others was only in how unimaginable it was to think of him as a potential winner in a fight to the death. At a glance, he had about as many muscles as the bubblegum girl and his armaments looked like something collected from the corpses of low-level goblins if such creatures even existed in this world.

“Now, now, don’t laugh!” Thelicia scolded the spectators. “Not all champions are musclehead brutes… Still, that rusty ol’ dagger simply will not do! We should reward Number Thirteen for his bravery, don’t you agree, everyone?”

The response was mixed. While some people cheered others rushed after the masked even staff and passionately pleaded and argued.

“Haha, while it is great to see so much passion for the predictions, I must ask that you do not pester the staff,” Thelicia addressed the agitated minority in the crowds. “After you’ve cast your votes and confirmed them with our staff you may not change them no matter the reason!

As for our first volunteer… Can we bring him his reward?”

One of the scrawny masked men returned to the open chest and looked up to Thelicia for instructions.

“Let me see… Oh, it has to be The Cleaver!”

The scrawny masked man bent over the chest and pulled out a weapon so large, Beatrice found it hard to believe it could have ever hidden in the chest.

“Twenty-five pounds of stainless steel!” Thelicia described the weapon that looked like a giant’s meat cleaver. “At nearly five feet in length, this portable guillotine offers impressive range and lethal area, and can cut through a skull like butter!”

The masked man handed the weapon to Number Thirteen who instantly let the heavy cleaver side of the weapon fall into the rocks blade-first as he was clearly unprepared for such weight.

“Now, do we have any other volunteers?” Thelicia asked.

Unsurprisingly, nearly a dozen hands shot up into the air, prompted by the idea of receiving a weapon to secure an advantage. This still did not make much sense to Beatrice.

“If weapons are so important, why didn’t everyone just bring their’s with them?” Beatrice quietly asked Olivia.

“Because usually they are decided at random,” Olivia said. “Whatever they give you is what you have to use. Whenever someone came overgeared, they were made to regret it. Half the fun for the mob that gathers to watch these games is seeing others get screwed over mercilessly.”

“My, now that’s more like it!” Thelicia approved of the increase in volunteers. “Unfortunately, there are only five spots remaining, so I’ll pick the ones that raised their hand first. Numbers… Seven, Sixteen, Thirty-five, Thirty-six, and Fifty-two! Step forward!”

The called-out Numbers walked forward to where Number Thirteen stood with his cleaver still in the ground. Four guys and one girl joined Number Thirteen, among them was one of the gigantic men that Beatrice dubbed the “walking double refrigerator”. A cheesy and unpronounceable nickname, however, that was how Beatrice felt about the overfed, overgrown strongman that would make professional wrestlers blush. And lucky for Beatrice, she did not have to say her made-up nicknames aloud. Instead, she wondered if she could get away with dealing with that fridge the same way that she dealt with Steve.

“Perfect!” Thelicia exclaimed when all six volunteers were together in a small location. “Now, the rules are simple. For the First Round, we only need sixty-four participants. Whoever among you six remains standing after two minutes, gets to keep The Cleaver for the First Round!”

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