Pioneer Lord: I Have Conquering System

Zat was a full 2.5 ren tall and weighed over six hundred pounds. His muscles were like finely sculpted works of art, brimming with an aesthetic quality that made it clear he wasn’t just for show.

Although the lead Beastman was 2.3 ren tall and weighed nearly five hundred pounds, he looked underdeveloped compared to Zat.

It was a known fact that without equipment, a duel in the Gladiatorial Arena was a direct contest of Power and physique. So-called "technique" only gave one an advantage against an opponent of the same caliber.

It was like how the Debei People, masters of wrestling, couldn’t even defeat the underfed adolescents from the Beastman Tribes.

The saying "brute force works wonders" wasn’t just an empty phrase.

The Beastman, part of a Race renowned for its Power, understood this principle deeply. He knew he was no match for this colossal member of his own kind.

He remained silent for a long moment before speaking.

"You are a True Warrior. I will not fight you."

He was simple, not stupid. Dueling this hulking kinsman would gain him absolutely nothing.

His gaze shifted to Levi. "I was referring to you."

Levi froze, not expecting this guy to actually challenge him to a duel.

Zat, however, looked at the other Beastman with the pity one would reserve for an idiot. He couldn’t help but reach out and pat his kinsman’s shoulder, his tone full of emotion.

"No, my brother, *you* are the True Warrior!"

Zat’s eyes looked as if he were gazing upon an extremely rare specimen, and they held a hint of sympathy.

Although the lead Beastman felt that something was off, his gaze remained resolute as he looked at Levi’s slender frame.

"Beastman, Muto!"

Muto extended a fist as large as Levi’s head. The two men bumped fists.

"Levi, of the Debei People."

The manager of the Gladiatorial Arena was as frantic as an ant on a hot pan, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

’Doesn’t this Knight have any self-awareness? This Beastman’s thigh is as thick as his waist. A single slap could send him to meet his great-grandmother. How could he possibly win?’

If this nobleman were to die at the entrance to the Gladiatorial Arena, it technically wouldn’t have anything to do with him, not by a single copper coin’s worth.

However, if he was accidentally smashed into meat paste by this pack of Barbarians on *his* turf, the manager would inevitably have to bear some of the responsibility.

He might not be sent to the gallows, but it was entirely possible that half a lifetime of hard work would go down the drain.

"My Lord." The manager tried to pull Levi aside but couldn’t budge him. He could only say helplessly, "Your station is noble; there’s no need to put yourself in harm’s way. These Barbarians are strong enough to take down a Giant! If they don’t listen, just stop feeding them!"

Giants were a Race that stood over three or four ren tall. While not particularly bright, their strength was undeniable.

But even a Giant was no match for this brute.

The manager felt he had been so diplomatic he might as well have pointed at the Knight’s head and said, ’Give it up, my Lord. You’re no match for this Beastman Barbarian.’

He believed that anyone whose brain hadn’t been eaten by a Goblin would understand what he meant.

"A Giant, you say? Interesting."

Hearing this, the Lord became even more excited. He had encountered these big oafs back when he was one of the Mercenaries.

One had tried to steal his horse for a roast while he was asleep. After being discovered, Levi had rewarded it with a hundred consecutive lashes. Unable to bear the pain, it had jumped into a nearby river and drowned.

The manager’s face turned ashen. He completely lost the leisure to stroke his Little Moustache. He was now considering whether he should call a few trusted Attendants, grab the mistress he kept, and just flee in the middle of the night.

After all, the money he’d earned over the years was enough for retirement. That was far better than this idiot noble dying here and getting him sent to the gallows.

...

「Inside the Gladiatorial Arena.」

Levi tossed his Sword to Zat, who was standing nearby. He rolled his shoulders, and the collision of his joints produced a crisp sound, like popcorn popping.

He hadn’t had a good workout in nearly a month. He had spent every day lying in the carriage, studying the profound mysteries of Knightly Novels.

This Beastman Barbarian was the perfect opportunity to stretch his muscles.

Most importantly, he also wanted to display his strength and make these Beastman Barbarians submit to him in both body and soul.

The Beastman named Muto chuckled. ’Humans always love to put on these flashy, useless displays.’

Even a layman could see that the outcome of this fight was a foregone conclusion.

The gap between the two was like an egg hitting a rock—the egg wouldn’t just crack, its yolk would splatter everywhere.

Muto made up his mind. He would use only a tenth of his strength, just enough to throw the Debei man to the ground.

The Beastman Barbarian crossed his arms and crooked a finger at the "dwarf" who only reached his chest.

"Quite the showman," Levi chuckled. Without any ceremony, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the other’s waist.

Muto was a little surprised by his opponent’s speed, but it didn’t matter. Just as he was about to forcefully throw the human off, his expression froze. He sensed something was wrong. Suddenly, he felt the ground give way beneath his feet, and his strength vanished.

The world spun!

BOOM!

The massive impact not only shattered the floor of the Gladiatorial Arena but also left the onlookers dumbfounded.

What had they just seen?

A Giant Beast of nearly five hundred pounds had been effortlessly lifted at the waist by a human and given a solid back-throw?!!

Was this something a human was truly capable of?

"He... he won?!!"

The manager of the Gladiatorial Arena was so stunned he didn’t even notice he had just ripped out a strand of his beard.

If, before this moment, someone had told him that a human could flip a Beastman Barbarian, he would have, without hesitation, used the old friend on his foot to give them a few swift kicks to the rear.

But now...

The manager admitted that he had underestimated this Knight.

Muto, lying on the ground, couldn’t make sense of the situation at all. ’I was inexplicably flipped by a human?’

He flipped over and sprang to his feet.

His face was grim. As a Beastman, he had actually been thrown by a human using a wrestling move?

Muto was unconvinced. ’I was just careless,’ he thought. ’I didn’t dodge.’

This was a great humiliation, enough for the Tribe’s Priest to dedicate an entire page to recording the tale of the Beastman who brought shame upon the Beastman Race. He would go down in infamy for a hundred years.

No matter what, Muto had to regain his honor.

"Again!"

His face was ferocious, hot breath hissing from his tusk-filled mouth.

"Damned Barbarian! Are all Beastmen this dishonorable?!!"

Little Moustache roared in fury.

He didn’t care if Levi had won through profound skill or pure Power; a win was a win.

He had to stop this farce.

"Then let’s go again."

Levi hadn’t even warmed up yet. He didn’t care in the slightest that his opponent was being a sore loser.

Muto decided he wouldn’t be careless this time. This Debei man was fast and had Mastered profound wrestling techniques, so he would engage him in the most simple and direct contest of Power!

They locked arms. Muto lowered his center of gravity and exerted all his strength. His tower-like body tensed, and he let out a stormy roar. But then, to his horror, he discovered his feet were slowly lifting off the ground!

The next second.

BOOM!

The world spun once more.

Sprawled on the ground like a starfish and looking as if life had lost all meaning, Muto finally understood one thing: this human’s Power was terrifyingly immense!

The Power he prided himself on—the Power to take down a Giant—was a laughable joke, like that of a small child, before this man!