The Arena Ring Echoes with Cheers...

From beyond the crude wooden entrance gate, light leaks through, giving the atmosphere of a doorway to heaven.

Barefoot, I step firmly onto the sand mixed with rocks and bone fragments, roll my shoulders lightly, and grin.

"...Alright, let’s go. I can’t keep them waiting any longer."

With those words, I step through the gate, entering the heat-filled arena.

As the wooden latch is unfastened, I raise my head and puff out my chest.

I step into the ring and raise one hand in response to the crowd.

"Matt! Matt!! Matt!!!"

The ground shakes with the roar of the crowd, chanting my name. Though my real name is Yamato, somehow, they know me as Matt.

Well, that’s fine.

If it’s easier to shout, that’ll hype the crowd even more.

As I spin my body to stir up the cheers, the opposite gate opens.

Suddenly, a wave of surprise and confusion spreads through the arena.

I turn to face it and see a giant, holding what looks like a club the size of a person.

No, maybe not a human.

The creature stands about 3 to 4 meters tall, with unnaturally long arms and a thick, muscular body. Its skin is gray and hairless, its eyes cloudy white, and its ears pointed.

If I recall correctly, this is a humanoid monster called a troll.

Lately, as my strength has become more evident, I’ve stopped facing human opponents.

But as long as there’s an audience, this is my battlefield.

"Come at me. I’ll take you on."

With those words, I slam my fists together and face the troll.

Flashback

"Ohhh! Yamato has been thrown out of the ring!"

As I roll on the mat that was pulled out, I grit my teeth against the shock, trying to catch my breath, placing one hand on the ground as I lift my head.

My opponent steps out of the ring, grabs a handful of my hair, and shows off to the crowd.

I can feel the youth in his strength.

I’m over forty now, and it’s becoming harder to maintain sharp movements.

But as the reigning champion, I can’t afford to lose so easily.

I grab the hand holding my head, twisting it so his elbow bends inward.

They groan dramatically, dropping to one knee and arching his back. It probably actually hurts, but they’re playing it up.

Seeing his attempt to look tough, I grin and stand up.

I grab his torso with both hands and lift him up.

Using the momentum, I slam them back down to the ground.

"Y-Yamato! A powerbomb outside the ring! The champion is furious! The powerbomb of rage!"

My opponent collapses, unable to move.

Feigning anger, I scan the surroundings and make my way back toward the ring.

Just as I grab the ropes with both hands and place one foot on the ring, my opponent, who should’ve been down, grabs both of my legs.

Wait a second. There’s no way to break that fall.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, the world flips.

I catch glimpses of the ceiling lights hanging above, like shooting stars.

The spectators fill the tiered seats, and there are folding chairs and portable fences around the arena.

As those images flash through my mind, the world goes dark.

The taste of blood fills my nose and mouth as my body starts to lose sensation.

This is the worst. Whenever this happens, I usually wake up in the locker room or on a hospital bed. Even at this age...

When I open my eyes, I barely lift my eyelids.

The smell of leather shoes and wood fills the air.

What my fingers touch isn’t fabric but something that feels like grass.

The ceiling is made of logs, rough and exposed.

"...Where am I?"

I mutter as I slowly raise my upper body. If I move too quickly, I’ll be hit with dizziness.

"Awake, are you?"

A low, masculine voice calls out, and I turn my gaze towards it.

Standing against a strange wall, made of a combination of stone and wooden planks, is a half-naked man.

The man is wearing dark brown animal hide pants, and he sports an eye patch over one eye. His short blonde hair and well-defined muscular body are impressive, with scars of all sizes covering him, giving him an intimidating presence.

As I look up at him, he crosses his arms and snorts.

"...You’re way too healthy for a runaway slave. Are you a gladiator too?"

"...A gladiator? No, I’m a pro wrestler."

I answer and instinctively place my hand on my throat. My voice sounds surprisingly young.

When I look down at my hands, I notice smooth skin and arms covered in firm muscle. My legs look just as thick as they did in my prime after all the training.

"...What’s going on?"

As I stand up and check my body, the man furrows his brows and tilts his head.

"...What? Did someone steal your clothes or weapons? Give it up. It’s bad luck to have been found by a slave trader."

"Huh?"

I respond without thinking.

A slave trader?

Does such a thing still exist in Japan?

Or is this some kind of slang?

As I rack my brain trying to make sense of his words, the man lets out a laugh and steps toward me.

"...Heh, you don’t seem like a bad guy. And not a bandit either. I’m Cradle. I’m a gladiator. One of the top-ranking ones in the Kingdom of Noah. You should consider yourself lucky to be learning from me."

The man who introduced himself as Cradle laughs as he says this.

"Oh, uh, I’m Yamato... Wait, the Kingdom of Noah?"

I introduce myself, but his words only confuse me more.

"Matt? You’re a commoner, then? Well, most of us are commoners. Don’t worry about it and just fight."

"No, it’s Yamato. Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Where exactly is this Kingdom of Noah located?"

When I ask, Cradle gives me a puzzled look, peering at me with concern.

"...You don’t know one of the world’s greatest nations, the Kingdom of Noah? Where are you from, some backwater?"

"Japan."

When I answer, Cradle shrugs and shakes his head.

"Never heard of it... The Kingdom of Noah is a vast realm, located between the New Sun Mountain Range and the Dragate Sea. You really don’t know?"

As Cradle says this, I can’t even respond; I just stand there in stunned silence.

I can’t believe Cradle is lying.

But if that’s the case...what the hell has happened to me?