Chapter 40: The Arena (3)

A few hours earlier.

The arena’s manager, Don Quixote, doubted his ears.

“What? Who’s here?”

“T-The second son of the Alkart family… has arrived.”

Cold sweat dripped down Don Quixote’s forehead.

“Is that for real?”

“Y-Yes! The guard captain confirmed it!”

“We’re screwed.”

The Alkart family’s name was so renowned that even in the Knight Kingdom of Demisia, no one was unaware of it.

The arena’s ‘auction house’ and ‘gambling den’.

They were modeled after the ‘black market’ run by the Alkart family in the underworld.

But they were mere drops in the bucket.

Both in terms of scale and the astronomical sums involved.

The problem was that the young master himself had shown up.

It took at least two weeks to travel from the Empire to here.

Too far for someone so esteemed to make the journey.

If luck was bad, it could take even longer.

The desert, when unstable, was no different from a demonic realm.

But this wasn’t just a rumor—the guard captain had personally delivered the news.

The information was too credible.

Even the appearance backed it up.

Black hair and golden eyes.

A refined, noble demeanor.

Not a single feature was out of place.

An aura so chilling it felt cold even in the desert.

Anyone could see he was the spitting image of Duke Alkart!

No one but a blood relative could resemble him so closely.

“T-Take a look at this.”

A subordinate handed over some documents.

Don Quixote swallowed hard and examined them.

A few hours ago.

The second son of the Alkart family had visited a diner.

It was a place notorious for complaints due to sandstorms blowing through unclosed windows.

The owner, a former warrior, had never faced direct complaints.

But today.

After the Alkart family’s second son passed through.

The owner was found covered in blood.

Bloodied, he had repaired the windows one by one.

Blood was smeared all over the walls.

It was no exaggeration to call it a murder scene.

Gulp.

To think someone could do this over a mere sandstorm.

Not even in person.

Done after leaving, without anyone noticing.

Cruel.

Was this why the Alkart family was feared in the underworld?

“The second son would be Evan Alkart, then.”

“…Yes, probably.”

If this was truly the Evan Alkart—

“We’re really screwed.”

Don Quixote pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

He’d been trying to quit, but he couldn’t help it.

It felt like the grim reaper of death was standing right in front of him.

The reaper said to take the wrists of warriors who lost their honor.

He didn’t believe in superstitions, but could it actually be true?

Was Evan coming for him under that name?

“What should we do?”

“What else? I’ll… go talk to him.”

When a warrior meets a reaper, there are two choices.

Face them bravely or grovel pathetically.

As a former warrior, he was brave.

Brave enough to grovel bravely.

The opponent was too big a deal.

And lately, he had a guilty secret.

Did he figure it out?

The heretic remnants.

They held the tempting power to gain strength through human sacrifices.

So, he’d hidden them in the arena through a ‘deal’.

That wasn’t all.

He was also dealing with the ‘black market’.

The problem was, it was done behind Duke Alkart’s back.

A deal with the black market’s second-in-command.

It must never reach the Duke’s ears.

Still, things had been going smoothly.

Except for the fact that contact had recently stopped.

If only I hadn’t seen him…

Just minutes ago.

Evan had personally visited the arena.

Accompanied by two warriors who seemed like associates.

The people with him were no small fry either.

One seemed to be a slave, the other’s identity unclear.

But one identity alone was enough to call them ‘big shots’.

The Oracle of the Starry Sky.

A mystic astrologer said to see human fates.

A figure of interest to Don Quixote, who was more merchant than warrior now.

She was supposed to be kind-hearted.

If he was lucky, maybe she’d read his fortune?

…Though the fact that she was Evan’s companion was deeply unsettling.

No choice.

He’d have to pull out his secret weapon.

Prove it with strength?

That’s what outdated old-timers would say.

Money.

Money solves everything.

Who in this continent didn’t love money?

If persuasion failed?

Check if the money was enough.

No warrior had ever resisted the lure of gold.

In the end, the world revolved around a single gold coin.

I’ll have to meet him myself.

“S-Sir, really?”

His subordinate’s face brightened.

Don Quixote Machete, former rank 2.

One of the symbols of honorable warriors, stepping up himself!

Nothing could be more reassuring.

I’ll have to settle this somehow.

Evan Alkart.

Sway him, deceive him.

Or…

Eliminate him.

The awkward combination of words rolled in his mind.

Don Quixote toyed with the axe at his waist.

A new axe, its expensive wooden handle gleaming.

And a few hours later.

After thorough preparations, Don Quixote visited him.

He broke into a cold sweat without realizing it.

Two emotionless gazes.

Golden eyes, chillingly identical to Duke Alkart’s.

What a monster.

Don Quixote had to admit it.

I can’t read him at all.

He was a true titan, a monster.

***

“Welcome, my lord!”

A groveling impression.

That was Evan’s first thought upon seeing Don Quixote.

“For the noble bloodline of His Grace, Duke Alkart, to grace us today—it must be a blessing from the god of warriors!”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Evan Alkart.”

“This humble one is Don Quixote Machete!”

Don Quixote spoke so eagerly that spit flew, grabbing Evan’s outstretched hand with a firm grip!

There was no strength in it.

A careful touch, as if handling a gem.

“Hmph!”

Lapis, watching like a hawk, nodded approvingly from the side.

Evan forced himself to suppress a grimace.

Why’s this guy acting like this?

He struggled to keep his expression neutral.

Don Quixote Machete.

The arena’s owner and manager.

A warrior who once reached rank 2.

Boasting pride as high as his rank.

He’d act so arrogantly whenever he met players.

His irritating mustache only added to it—some players wished they could punch him just once.

As if fulfilling that wish, he was later caught by Duke Alkart and torn limb from limb.

His crimes: ‘impersonation’ and ‘blasphemy’.

The sin of mimicking the black market without permission.

The sin of conspiring with the second-in-command to challenge the underworld’s ruler.

In short, a man obsessed with money and overflowing with pride.

So why was he being so subservient?

“What brings you here?”

“Oh! Since such an esteemed guest has come in person and paid full price, I came to offer you an even better seat!”

“Is there a seat better than VIP?”

Ugh, I don’t want to move.

“I wasn’t informed of any such thing.”

Meaning: since he wasn’t told, he’d stay put.

Don Quixote seemed to misinterpret, reacting with exaggerated shock.

“Tch, such a thing! It’s my fault for not managing my subordinates properly! I’ll punish them according to our rules!”

“According to your rules?”

“Those who can’t even do their jobs don’t deserve to live. They’ll commit seppuku.”

Evan’s face instinctively twisted.

The thought made his stomach churn.

Even as a man among men, it still felt unsettling.

Don Quixote’s eyes widened slightly.

He didn’t figure it out, did he?

“I only paid a fair price.”

Evan continued, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“I’m fine with the current seat.”

“Oh, oh!”

Don Quixote bowed with an expression of late realization.

“I failed to see your grand intentions, young master…! My apologies!”

“It’s fine. I’d prefer to avoid anything that tarnishes dignity.”

“Understood. The seppuku is canceled.”

Phew! That could’ve haunted my dreams.

Evan swallowed a sigh of relief.

Don Quixote kept glancing at him with sparkling eyes, sizing him up.

Ugh, so uncomfortable.

Can’t I just tell him to leave?

“Anything else?”

“May I ask why you’ve come to the arena today?”

Don Quixote asked politely.

“Are you perhaps interested in the ‘auction house’?”

“The auction house, you say.”

“If you wish, I can let you join the bidding immediately. No, no! I’ll just give you whatever you want! Or perhaps—”

Don Quixote leaned closer, whispering softly.

“Are you interested in ‘rare items’ not listed in the auction?”

Rare items?

This feels shady.

It was blatantly suspicious.

Evan was about to refuse when—

“!!”

The Oracle frantically waved her hands.

She pointed at Don Quixote, then the floor.

It wasn’t clear, but it felt like she was insisting they go.

No choice, then.

“Yes, I’m interested.”

“!”

Don Quixote’s face lit up.

“Then let’s go right away…!”

“But first, I’ll place my bids.”

“Of course!”

Evan bid on the first-place prize, the Beginner’s Refinement Arts Book, and the mixed elixir.

Hmm, let’s see how much money I have…

This should do, right?

He placed a reasonable bid.

Before leaving, he glanced outside.

BAM!!

WOOOOHHH!

No. 5 had defeated its opponent.

It raised both arms, roaring triumphantly.

What a superstar.

Sand fell tap, tap from its arms.

The opponent must have been strong, as No. 5 had visible scratches.

“Victory! Dead Bear!”

“WAAAAAHHHH!”

No. 5, declared the victor, crouched down and swept up the sand from the ground.

Its body began to regenerate.

Pretty effective.

The [Sand Golem’s Heart].

Carefully crafted and transmuted, No. 5’s body had become like sand.

Immune to physical attacks.

No need for repairs—just add sand.

That’s reliable enough.

As for Felix…

He’ll manage, right?

Across the arena, their eyes briefly met as Felix waited.

Evan gave him a look of encouragement before turning away.

Felix, receiving the gaze, took a deep breath.

I’m not even worth noticing, am I?

Right.

With a golem that powerful, that level of strength was probably standard.

And it was just upgraded on the spot.

Whether planned or improvised, it was impressive either way.

“My goal now is you.”

Felix stared at No. 5.

No. 5, meeting his gaze, beckoned with a hand.

As if daring him to try.

Do modern golems all have egos?

Aegis, following Evan, muttered.

What kind of golem is that free-spirited?

There was no answer…

***

The Colosseum.

A building with a long history.

Underground were various goods and warriors’ waiting rooms.

That was all Evan knew.

Because it collapsed under the Duke’s wrath before players could do much.

Surprisingly, the underground was deep.

Tch, it’s cold.

As Evan adjusted his coat, Lapis quickly knitted a scarf with her threads and wrapped it around him.

“Thank you.”

“Hehe, no problem.”

Lapis smiled proudly.

Evan patted her head and looked ahead.

Don Quixote, leading the way.

Only his back was visible, but something felt off.

He’s not going to offer me something weird, is he?

Is he secretly hiding heretic remnants?

Is this a trap?

Should I have brought No. 5?

Still, the Oracle was here.

She was stronger than expected.

Even sacrificing herself required strength.

A single gesture from her could turn this place upside down.

Aegis was here too.

Not a combat type, but she could probably create a barrier.

“Here we are!”

Don Quixote stopped before a tightly sealed door.

He glanced around swiftly, swiftly before whispering to Evan.

“Young master, I hear you’re an alchemist. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Why’s he asking about alchemy all of a sudden?

Evan shot him a suspicious look.

Don Quixote let out a sinister chuckle.

“Heh heh. Then you’ll like this.”

BAM!

He flung the door open.

“Behold! The arena’s secret [merchandise], ‘materials’ for any ‘research’ you desire!”

A vast chamber.

A place filled with iron cages.

Inside… CLANG, CLANG! 

Magical beasts rattled the bars.

Oh, what the hell.

They were raising magical beasts underground?!

Are they insane?

“…!”

Tremble!

The Oracle’s hands shook.

She’s not going to faint, is she?

Evan instinctively grabbed her hand.

To calm the frail-hearted Oracle, despite her strength.

Me?

I’m a man, so I’m fine!

Rustle.

The Oracle’s eyes locked onto Evan.

Her pupils, pitch-black without whites, stared intensely.

A chill ran down his spine.

She looked less like an Oracle…

And more like a witch.