Start with a Hammer, End with Five Beast Husbands

Sign up in teams

I glanced at the person lying on the ground.

He was a massive, hulking figure, partially beast-like, with a tail exposed, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The side of his head had a noticeable dent, and one horn on his forehead was bent awkwardly to one side. His face was bruised and swollen.

It was hard to tell if he was still breathing.

I sucked in a sharp breath. This place... is this really an underground fight arena?

What sent a chill down my spine even more was the crowd around us. Their expressions were full of excitement, and no one seemed to think anything was wrong. They were actually cheering wildly for the person still standing on stage.

I silently looked down at myself.

Right now, I could maybe catch small animals, or run a bit faster occasionally.

But if I had to step into the ring, it wouldn’t be a competition—it would be a death sentence. Without a second thought, I turned around and walked away.

No matter how much money this place had, it wasn’t worth my life.

Just then, a few people walked out of another passage nearby, dressed like staff members here.

I wasn’t planning on paying attention to them, but their conversation accidentally drifted into my ears.

"Warren won again today. He must've earned quite a lot of Pulse from this one," one of them said with obvious envy. "If only my mental power and physical strength weren’t so bad, I’d want to compete too."

"Why envy? He’s a silver-tier fighter. He gets at least a hundred thousand per match, plus fifty thousand in live bonuses," another snorted. "How many silver-tier fighters do we have here?"

"He’s almost hit a hundred matches, right? Once he levels up to gold-tier, the prize money will be insane."

They kept talking as they walked past me.

My footsteps stopped.

...At least a hundred thousand Pulse per match, plus live bonuses of over fifty thousand.

The rational voice in my head telling me to get out of here quickly because it was too dangerous, clashed with the pitiful balance in my pocket.

A hundred thousand Pulse.

Per match.

I squeezed my way through the maddened crowd, the smells of sweat, blood, and cheap alcohol mixing in the air, making my scalp tingle. Dodging drunks swinging their bottles, I asked around, and after some struggle, finally found the sign-up point for the "Iron Pit Arena."

A scarred man was leaning there, too lazy to even raise his eyelids. He just pointed to the nearby screen.

"Single match, registration fee 500. Team match, registration fee 999."

I leaned in closer and started reading the terms carefully.

Sign a waiver acknowledging the risk of life and death.

At least one match per week.

Signed fighters have a base salary, but must play at least three matches a week.

Further down, the money was listed.

The reward for a single match win was 3,000 Pulse, while a team match paid 20,000 Pulse per win.

If you signed a contract, the payout was five times higher, plus extra bonuses and rewards.

I stared at those numbers for a few seconds, then quietly checked my pocket.

Perfect, I had just over a hundred Pulse—nowhere near enough to pay for a single match registration.

I looked up toward the center of the arena. The sound of fists hitting flesh echoed, blood splattering, while the crowd’s cheers surged higher and higher, like they were all going crazy.

Win one match, and there’s money. Win another, and I could leave this damn place.

I licked my dry lips. Maybe I could pawn something, take a gamble?

"Hey, just you?"

A crisp voice suddenly broke through my thoughts.

I paused and turned, meeting a pair of bright eyes.

The speaker was a girl around my age with short brown hair, her smile full of energy. Behind her stood someone—

I instinctively looked again.

That size... calling him human was a stretch. He looked more like a grizzly bear.

Silent, solid, with an aura of pressure.

"Want to team up for a group match?" she tilted her head, her tone light, "The prize will be split, and it’s much better than going solo."

I didn’t rush to answer, quickly scanning the two of them.

She—her eyes were clear, with a wild edge. She seemed like the type to charge into the frontlines.

As for the one behind her, though his face was expressionless and he gave off a “don’t bother me” vibe, he looked reliable enough.

"I'm Sera," she introduced herself, then pointed behind her, "He’s Jax."

I silently memorized their names.

"You'll have a hard time soloing," Sera continued, "There's a group match tonight, and we need a third. We can take you along."

I hesitated for a couple of seconds. The truth was, I didn’t have enough money, and—

My strength wasn’t suited for solo matches either.

"Alright," I nodded, sharp and to the point, "I’m Ash."

I paused and added, "But I don’t have the money."

Sera blinked for a second, then burst out laughing. "No problem. We’ll front you first. You can pay us back after we win."

Her generosity made me take another look at her.

"Let’s go, let’s sign up!" She grabbed my arm, swift and decisive.

The three of us quickly registered, and we were handed a simple metal tag.

—Iron tier. Above that were copper, silver, and gold tiers.

I weighed the cold tag in my hand, and it felt like it was about the same weight as my life.

"Team name?" the person at the registration desk asked without even lifting his head.

Before I could say anything, Sera had already written something down.

I glanced at it.

—Null Reclaim.

I raised an eyebrow. "That name... pretty casual."

Sera shrugged, smiling like it was the most natural thing. "It fits this planet, doesn’t it? All gritty and low-key."

She paused for a second, then added,

"The most important thing is—"

"Not drawing attention."