When Ashe and the others entered the Death Match Club, the sounds that reached their ears weren't adrenaline-fueled screams, beast-like roars, or malicious jeering. Instead, they were irritated complaints.

"Stop hitting already! You're not going to kill anyone like this!"

"Can you move it along? Dozens of us are waiting. Waste one minute, and you waste dozens for everyone!"

"That's enough!"

If not for the chips restricting these death row inmates from swearing freely, Ashe was certain he would have quickly learned the classic curses of every race in the Blood Moon Kingdom.

They pushed through the crowd. The inmates shoved aside frowned in irritation, but at the sight of notorious figures like the Demon, the Beautiful Beast, and the Gourmet, they immediately stepped back.

Among death row inmates, there was no hierarchy of status. No matter how powerful someone was, they could not leave so much as a scratch, a single pulled strand of hair, or even a ruined manicure on any inmate. As long as one stayed...