Struggling as a Villain

In the Endless Hold, one is promoted based on their skill levels, and that only happens during the monthly inspection.

They can't have stronger prisoners mingle up with the weaker ones out of fear of what Richard intends to do: massacring all prisoners on each floor so he can accomplish his body counts.

However, there was a sudden change in plans since he was getting promoted during the weekly inspection. Surely, this shouldn't have been the first time for someone to slaughter those many men in one go, right? However, this sudden promotion has never happened before. That was why Richard was suspicious of the authorities' motives.

Regardless, he was currently taken to, not just a floor above but to the third floor.

There was a runic platform near the entrance of the Endless Hold--surprisingly, despite how much Richard searched, he wasn't able to find this entrance on his own--before the security guard spelt some incomprehensible words.

'What kind of language do they use? This is not the ancient language which every spell chanter speaks...' Richard was very intrigued about everything related to this jail.

Endless Hold lies between dimensions, meaning someone with Space-time magic created this place. And to let the structure not fall because of the rift stream--a force that travels between two dimensions and can tear the very existence of any being regardless of their strength level--means the chanter was still alive and was maintaining their spell.

Considering the age of the Endless Hold, all Richard could say about the spellcaster is,

'Crazy...' Well, that was something that came out of his lips naturally once he entered the third floor.

There was a large arena in the middle of which they appeared. There were numerous seats for the audience, which currently were completely desolate. The smell of blood was quite thick in the air, signifying the arena was used recently.

Richard was wordlessly pulled towards the gallery that was on the far north end. His wrists were tied with metal cuffs and the chain was in the hand of the officer.

"Do they organize battles here?" Richard asked casually, wanting to discern as much information as he could. This floor was new and there was no restriction on his ether--which had both plus and negative points. After all, just like him, others would be free to use their magical abilities as well.

"They do." The answer was short and didn't hold any information which Richard hadn't already guessed.

Silently following the officer, he was escorted through a similar gallery; however, unlike the previous floor, on this one, every cell contained only one prisoner.

Richard was also pushed into an empty one--allowing him to heave a sigh of relief. Having Brad was a little annoying but he was a good person. Richard was unsure how the new cellmate would be, but now he didn't need to worry about it.

"The meal schedule is the same. You can continue to work in forgery here as well." Saying those words, the officer walked away

Richard was baffled....forgery? Do they keep an eye on everyone's jobs as well?

'But didn't Brad say that they don't give a single fuck of what the prisoners do?' Richard hasn't done some marvellous jobs on the base floor... so why did the officer urge him to continue his work?

Weird.

For now, he inspected his room. There was a single bed, attached to the wall. A pot, a wash basin, and a mirror.

Truth be told this was a decent room--better than several guys who used to live as a bachelor back on earth.

Richard sat down on the bed and thought of his next move...but he wasn't allowed to think for long as suddenly a few men appeared before his cell.

'Bully...again?' Richard got up and neared them.

None of them were hiding their blood lust and were allowing their ether to fill the space. Richard wasn't intimidated since after facing those many men back on the base floor, although none of them had much magical capabilities, he had built endurance against unfavourable situations.

Just by their aura, he could tell that they were somewhere around rank D to C. The one in the front was the strongest one with the most prominent presence.

"Newbie, I heard you were promoted. Strange, I was hoping for someone strong...but you look like a twig."

Richard chuckled hearing that as he responded, "If you grow yourself like a bear, everyone surely will look like a twig to you."

The blond man's eyes darkened hearing that, and one of his lackeys sprang forward, electricity darting out of his fingers.

Richard widened his eyes and instantly jumped back-- but before the bolts could penetrate inside the cell, the blond boss held his subordinate's hand.

The white-haired prisoner slowly lowered his hand and the blue lightning disappeared.

'He is strong...and fast..' The person directed the spell without chanting, and chantless magic was something only those who have honed their skills to the finest could do.

Around him, he has only seen his mother and Lilia chant magic without a word spoken.

'So this is what the prisoners of the third floor look like?'

"Newbie, this floor isn't like the previous ones. You have to earn your place here." The blond boss spoke, this time in a provocative manner.

Richard's eyes turned solemn as he remained silent.

The blond boss spoke again, "Today at eight, come to the arena and prove your worth."

Saying so they turned and walked away. Richard stood at his place for quite a few minutes, thinking about what just happened.

Are they some wannabe Spartans or something?

Heaving a sigh, Richard lay down on the bed. Although he seemed to be tired of these bullies, it was not like he was going to miss the chance to assess the situation here. Based on his fight today, he might have to level up first to assassinate a crowd.

He looked at the clock and found it was only three. He had enough time so...

'System.'

[Ding!]

[Command accepted!]

His eyes were closed, and his consciousness drifted away to that dimension which Richard had given a name--House of Beatdown.

Inside the cage, the name flashed in the same shade as before, signifying the difficulty hasn't gone down despite Richard's level-ups recently.

[Sun WuKong]

[Attempt: 7]

Since Richard had only his bo staff available in the prison, he needed to become more efficient in using it. As such, he didn't materialize his batons, unlike previously, but rather his beloved staff.

The monkey king scratched his ear and tilted his head seeing the staff which originally belonged to him.

Richard twirled the weapon in his hands, letting the purplish current surge through.

His eyes burned with intensity as he locked onto Sun WuKong, who stood a few meters away, relaxed and smug, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief.

Using body enhancement he increased his pace and kept the staff held towards his back. His movement created ripples in the air as he finally reached his opponent and swung the staff low, aiming for WuKong's legs, the power crackling through its length.

WuKong jumped gracefully and landed on the staff, pinning it down and forcing Richard to remain in the same spot.

WuKong smirked, and with a back flip, he kicked Richard's chin--making him fall on his butt.

"Ow...it hurts." Richard winced as he rubbed his sore jaw.

WuKong stood before him, his expression unreadable, hands behind his back, utterly composed.

This attitude of 'attack me, I am all yours' annoys Richard, but this annoyance arrives because he is weak.

Gritting his teeth, he sprang back on his feet.

Richard narrowed his stance, adjusting his grip on the staff, muscles tensing as he analyzed WuKong's every subtle movement. No more wild swings or desperate bursts of ether--he would match the Monkey King's precision with his own.

Richard darted forward, his body moving with fluid grace, the staff sweeping low. But this time, there was no flaming flourish or crackling energy--just raw, disciplined force. WuKong's feet shifted, his body leaning just enough to avoid the sweep without moving more than necessary.

Richard followed immediately with a sharp thrust toward WuKong's midsection. The movement was swift and direct, intended to pierce through the small opening in WuKong's guard. But WuKong twisted his torso, the strike grazing past him by mere centimetres.

Without missing a beat, WuKong stepped in closer, closing the distance. His palm shot out, aiming for Richard's chest, but Richard spun to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow and countering with a sharp upward swing of the staff. WuKong blocked it with his forearm, the impact reverberating through both of them.

They turned standstill just for a moment before violent bolts travelled towards Wukong's arm.

WuKong smirked as he twirled his hand around the staff--uncaring of the thunder bolts--and landed a palm strike right in the middle of his chest--and this time, Richard wasn't able to block it.

"Agh!"

Staggering back, Richard coughed but didn't let his eyes wander away from the monkey king.

The short combat came to a pause as WuKong looked at Richard with a strange gleam in his eyes.

Just as Richard was about to leap into another exchange, suddenly the staff began to glow as WuKong raised his hand

"Ah!" Richard yelped as suddenly the bo staff escaped his grip and attached itself to its original owner.

With his widened eyes Richard looked at WuKong as he heard the Monkey King's voice for the first time,

"Let me show you, how it's done."

"..." Yeah, he is f*cked.

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A/N:- Some pain is required to learn a valuable lesson. Thanks for reading.