Chapter 129
Chapter 129
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: Mysterious Gladiator (3)
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It was beyond common sense.
A weapon had suddenly materialized in his hand.
But what was even more unbelievable...
Was that this sensation felt strangely familiar.
As if it were an action he'd repeated countless times before.
💥 DENIAL 💥 [Th-this... This can't be happening━━!!]
While lost in that bizarre sentiment, breathing raggedly from the tension...
The announcer's shout echoed through the now-silent stands, thanks to the fallen Crados.
"Uwaaaaaah━━!!"
"W-we won!!"
"This is insane!! Crados lost?! The Crados who rips apart B-rank monsters barehanded!! Don't fuck with me!! This is cheating!!"
"Uwaaaaaah!! Reverse bet jackpot!! You motherfuckers, drinks are on me tonight!! You bastards━━!! Uahahaahah!!"
The crowd's varied reactions and voices exploded, shaking the arena.
⚙ ANNOUNCER ⚙ I can't believe it! The winner is the western gladiator!! Pigeant of the Freak Helmet!! He defeated Crados with a sword conjured from magic!! '...Magic?'
Hearing the announcer's commentary, I looked down at my hand.
Magic.
Was conjuring a sword from thin air truly magic?
Come to think of it, the woman who gave me this helmet had made it appear out of nowhere too.
Maybe it was something similar.
No, that didn't matter.
Anyway...
'...I survived.'
I clenched my fist, emotion surging, and thrust my hand triumphantly toward the sky.
The crowd's cheers, spotting the gesture, shook the air even more violently.
━━Uwaaaaaah!!
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I figured I'd return to the prison-like waiting room after the final match.
But no.
"Excuse me."
Clack.
A woman who looked like a maid gracefully set a teacup before me.
It wasn't plain water inside, but richly brewed black tea.
Even before lifting the cup, its aroma tickled my nose.
"Th-thank you."
"Please call if you need anything."
The maid withdrew with an expressionless face, neither smiling nor frowning.
'Am I... not a wanted criminal?'
This treatment felt far too lavish for a criminal.
This opulent space felt excessively luxurious.
Where was I?
It was filled with expensive-looking ornaments, and the sofa was so plush it startled me upon sitting.
A stark contrast to the cold prison cell.
"Um, why am I here...?"
"Please wait just until the master arrives."
"Haa..."
The master?
Who could that be? Her master.
Someone wealthy enough to own a lavish room in this blood-soaked arena.
The image that came to mind was a sallow-skinned, pot-bellied man loaded with gold rings, puffing a cigar.
But that guess missed the mark spectacularly.
"Pleased to meet you. I am Eorite, owner of this arena, 'Perion'."
Appearing before me, as I stared at the tea, was no pot-bellied man—but a noblewoman.
A silver-haired beauty who approached fanning herself languidly.
Her gaze seductively roamed over me, yet felt coldly piercing through to my core.
Every movement, even sitting on the sofa, was impeccably refined.
To a stranger, each gesture exuded subtle elegance.
However, her attire felt slightly provocative by contrast.
The elegant dress's top hung loosely off her shoulders.
Revealing her ample cleavage.
Thank goodness for the helmet, or my wandering gaze would've been caught.
"Pigeant... That nickname from the helmet, right? What's your real name?"
"Ah, well..."
She took a sip of her black tea after sitting, then asked directly.
But I couldn't answer rashly.
Because I didn't know my own name.
'...More importantly, they don't know my name either?'
The owner of this arena should know I'm a wanted man.
So was I a criminal whose name wasn't publicized?
Anyway, I had only one response for her.
"Just Pigeant. Please remember me that way."
"Hmm... Understood. Well, that helmet suggests you have your reasons."
'...Reasons?'
Reasons.
Obviously to hide a face on wanted posters—but did she not know that?
Or since I was already caught, did she not think I'd bother concealing it?
Either way, not commenting on the helmet was a good thing.
I needed to keep it until I left this place.
Then, Eorite, who had been observing me intently, spoke softly.
"There are two reasons I called you here."
Two reasons?
What could they be?
She answered my unspoken question by raising her index and middle fingers.
"First, I wanted to meet the rookie who defeated the champion myself."
Her middle finger folded down.
"Second, to assess you personally."
Then her index finger folded.
Eorite smiled seductively.
"So, now that I've met you, I've made my judgment..."
She snapped open the fan in her hand, covering her mouth as she asked,
"...How about becoming my possession?"
"...Pardon?"
She seemed to have summoned me here to scout me.
"P-possession? What exactly does that...?"
Even as I thought no, my gaze kept drifting to her skin.
Her ample cleavage above the neckline.
Truly, thank goodness for the helmet.
"What do you think it means? Obviously, I mean as a gladiator."
Ah... Not that.
"You mean as a gladiator...? But I'm already one here..."
"Hm? As a newbie, you don't know anything, do you?"
Snap.
Eorite's fan folded again, its tip pointing at me.
"You're a gladiator slave owned by the Dalton Trading Company. That's why you fought for the 'west' side."
Apparently, even within this arena, gladiators were divided by affiliation.
'According to her... the gladiators called 'east' are all her owned gladiators?'
Her question about becoming hers made sense in that context.
But there was still a lingering doubt.
"...But as a gladiator slave, do I even have a choice?"
Odd, wasn't it?
Eorite was the 'owner' of this arena, asking a 'slave' of the arena if he'd become hers.
Asking me.
...Instead of my current owner.
"Ufufu, what's this? You really knew nothing."
But Eorite just laughed amusedly.
"Is there some reason for that?"
"Of course there is. It's why gladiators risk their lives for a shot at champion."
Champion...?
Come to think of it, the 3-meter giant I defeated was the east's champion.
Did that make me the champion now...?
"Normally, the tournament survivor challenges him for the title. But luckily, the Dalton Trading Company never dreamed you'd win. So an exhibition match was easily arranged."
"...What are you saying?"
"Hm, that's too much insider info. Simply put..."
Her fan tip pointed at me again.
"By defeating the champion and becoming one yourself, you gain the right to choose your owner. That's the rule here... and why gladiator slaves aim for champion."
The right to choose an owner...
A slave with no rights gains a right.
The right to choose their master.
'No wonder any slave would risk it all.'
A reason that ignites motivation.
And gladiator motivation turns matches into spectacles, entertaining the crowd.
Happy crowds mean profit.
A very arena-like system.
"So, what do you think? If you join me, I promise treatment far better than any commoner."
"...Better than a commoner—how much better?"
I had no frame of reference.
"Hm, in Crados's case... he went through about six young women a day."
"W-women...?"
"Fufu, what? You seem quite interested. A man truly is a man."
"N-no, that's not...!"
"Or perhaps... you've been staring at my chest since earlier. Do you want me?"
The helmet was fucking useless.
Realizing my glance had been caught, my body froze, and Eorite continued on her own.
"Sorry, but my body might be off-limits. I need to save my virginity for something more important... But hm, well..."
She extended her hand toward me again.
Three fingers were raised.
"Win thirty battles, and I might let you have me?"
"Ah, no! It's really not that! I mean...!"
In my fluster,
Seeing her raised fingers, something flashed in my mind.
My heated head from panic cooled instantly, my flailing hands stilled, and I sat calmly on the sofa.
Eorite tilted her head, silently watching me.
"Um... those thirty wins. Are they worth... even your purity, Lady Eorite?"
To my dazed question, Eorite smiled sweetly.
"Fufu, purely monetary? Utterly insufficient. ...But it's still an enormous sum."
An enormous sum.
Plus various other perks, enough to buy even her virginity.
Thirty wins.
Like the two life-or-death duels today.
Could I manage thirty?
Not to embrace Eorite, of course.
The reason I pondered thirty wins was...
"...If I win thirty, could you... ━set me free?"
Not escape, but another path.
This might be safer than a reckless breakout.