Although Ignaz had never been to the black market before, he'd picked up bits and pieces of intel over time. Everyone knew the black market was where criminals from both empires and outlaws who had crossed major powers on the continent ended up.
The goods here were even more diverse than those in Vast Sea City aboveground. Even the slave trade—which was explicitly outlawed by both empires—thrived in the shadows here, drawing frenzied demand.
Of course, prices in the black market were two or three times higher than elsewhere.
"Hey there, stranger. You look new to Vast Sea's black market, don't you? How about I show you the ropes?"
A hunched, bald man wearing a clown-like mask approached Ignaz—sharp-eyed and eager to please.
Ignaz lowered his voice deliberately. His right hand was already gripping the dagger hidden at his waist under his shirt. Coldly, he replied, "No need. Just tell me how to get to the underground battle arena."
"Three hundred meters straight ahead. It's that big round building—you can't miss it."
The hunchbacked man dropped his courteous tone, waving lazily in the arena's direction.
"This Soul Silver coin is yours."
Ignaz casually tossed a silver coin into the air, then quickly headed for the underground arena.
Soon, a massive black circular structure came into view. Unlike the city's official arena aboveground—blue, welcoming, and almost warm—this place radiated primal energy: wild, violent, and laced with the scent of blood.
Ignaz walked up to the first-floor registration desk. He glanced at a few posted rules on the wall to the left, then handed the registrar 20 Soul Gold coins.
"I'm here to register for battle."
The registrar eyed Ignaz, who wore a fierce black-and-white mask. With four or five years of experience at this post, she'd seen all kinds of Soul Masters. Mask or no mask, their voices and mannerisms usually gave them away.
But this guy? His aura was unmistakable—he was a complete newcomer. Smirking, she said with thinly veiled contempt:
"You look green. My advice? Sit in the stands and watch a few fights before throwing yourself into the pit. This isn't one of those controlled duels above ground. Down here, every match is life or death."
"Register me as 'White Demon, Slayer of Emperors.' Martial soul—"
Ignaz cut himself off, revealing his Blood Thunder War Spear in his right hand. Two yellow soul rings lit up at his feet.
"—I'm entering a deathmatch at the Grand Soulmaster level."
It was the first time the registrar had seen a rookie this composed—and unafraid of dying. Since he was so eager to throw his life away, she saw no point in arguing. She tapped away on the registration device, logged his basic details, and randomly assigned a spear-type martial soul.
"Your registration's complete. Head to Arena Zone 5. The match starts in about half an hour."
Ignaz accepted a bronze soul battle token and strolled toward Zone 5.
His decision to fight in the black market's underground arena wasn't just for the thrill. Ignaz wanted to keep his strength under wraps—and the black market, while costly, was also the most discreet place for information to change hands.
True, joining a battle would inevitably expose some of his secrets, but here in the underworld, it was far harder for others to dig up details about a participant. Unlike the regulated arenas above, the black market offered a protective veil of anonymity.
Once Ignaz familiarized himself with the rules, he was even more impressed. The battle emblem ranks earned underground were recognized by official battle arenas as well. Here, fights came in two flavors: equal-rank duels or cross-rank challenges. Even a Level 21 Soul Master could face a Level 29 Grand Soulmaster in an even match.
Team battles existed too, though they were rare.
Most importantly, registration only required displaying one's soul rings—or optionally, their martial soul.
Before long, Ignaz arrived at Zone 5. From a distance, he could already hear the frenzied roar of gamblers.
"Hurry up and log it! I'm betting 400 Soul Gold coins on the Sunflower Phantom Demon to win!"
"I'm putting 300 on the Scaled Horn King!"
"Back off, all of you! New fighter next match—odds are already at 9 to 1! I'm betting 1,000 gold on White Demon!"
A chubby merchant in a sharp suit slapped a thousand gold coins onto the counter, urging the clerk to lock in his bet.
Other gamblers scoffed. That guy had a reputation. Every time a rookie showed up, he'd bet a thousand on them to win. Most saw him as a walking donation—naïve and generous to a fault.
After all, in the underground deathmatches, the survival rate for rookies was exactly zero.
But just then, Ignaz—cloaked in black—stepped forward and handed a gold card to the clerk.
"Two thousand Soul Gold coins. I'm betting on White Demon to win."
Fighting wasn't just a thrill for Ignaz—it was a way to make money.
"Wait, did I hear that right? Two thousand, and on a rookie?"
The same man who'd jeered earlier looked again at Ignaz, finally recognizing him from the arena's big screen. Still, he mocked:
"First time I've seen a rookie bet everything on himself. If you lose, you're done—money and life. Hahaha!"
Then he added, "Do you even know who you're up against? That's Scar King—ranked second in the entire underground arena at the Grand Soulmaster level. Fifteen straight wins."
The crowd turned to Ignaz, sneering as they placed heavy bets on Scar King instead.
Moments later, the Sunflower Phantom Demon was declared the winner of the previous match. Then the announcement echoed through the arena:
"White Demon and Scar King, please proceed to Ring 5. The match is about to begin."
Ignaz paid no mind to the jeers. Power was the only answer they would understand. After retrieving his gold card, he walked calmly toward the fighter prep room.
At that moment, the same fat merchant waved his card again, shouting:
"Add another thousand! Quick!"
A few minutes later, both fighters emerged onto the ring—though this platform wasn't designed for aquatic Soul Masters like those aboveground. It was made specifically for land-based fighters.
Hearing the match announcement, spectators from nearby arenas surged into Zone 5. Everyone wanted to see Scar King crush another rookie and notch his sixteenth win.
A host in black strode dramatically into the ring as the crowd roared behind him.
"Tonight, we welcome a new challenger to our deathmatch arena! But can he stand a chance against Scar King, the soul-crushing titan with fifteen straight wins? Let's find out!"