The Arena's New Star
“The Chira tribesman won again, I hear?”
Roccom spoke with his hands clasped behind his back. Liscal stared at him, his expression far from pleased.
“Yes, sir. His skills have improved dramatically of late.”
“So Muslan even has a knack for teaching… What do you think? Your honest opinion?”
“I can only apologize, sir.”
Liscal lowered his head deeply. His goal had been to have Muslan beaten to death in the arena, yet he had failed completely. Worse still, the man had gathered followers, making it nearly impossible to move against him now.
“Some of this is your fault, but it’s not the whole story. Even if he’s only been fighting younger gladiators, those movements… they’re no accident. He’s already forged a proper technique. That’s what they call a genius.”
“He’s more than just a genius. He’s clearly learned something before. The way he handles a bow proves it. I believe he received training in the Maran Kingdom.”
“That much is obvious. Still, it couldn’t have been boxing or hand-to-hand combat. What royal family would ever teach their children to throw punches? Especially in the Maran Kingdom, the birthplace of magic? No, bows and swords make sense, but not fists.”
“Yes…”
“He had talent and learned through battle. That’s how we should see it. Speaking of which, Liscal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep the other gladiators from falling under his spell. You’re the manager of Roccom Arena, Liscal.”
“Understood.”
“Isaac and Obben were already nearing the end of their usefulness. Any injuries lately?”
“They’ve had almost none recently. Isaac and Obben were always strong.”
“True. That’s why their current performance is a relief to me. We owe Muslan thanks for that. But the other slaves are another matter.”
“Yes. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“I’m returning the money I received.”
“What…?”
“The payment to get rid of Muslan. There’s no way left now, is there?”
“There might still be…”
“No. Where would we find a gladiator who can beat him? At least not among those under twenty.”
“If we search other districts…”
“You’d go that far? And do you really think another district has someone who can beat him? I don’t.”
“……”
“Liscal. Just return the money.”
“It’s not about the money, sir. It’s your connections…”
“It seems the Roccom family isn’t cut out for the capital after all.”
Roccom laughed brightly. Liscal found the laughter strangely bitter. Roccom stopped laughing and gave Liscal’s shoulder a light pat.
“We can still make money instead. Keep a close eye on that Muslan fellow. He’s already raking it in.”
“Do you intend to nurture him seriously?”
Liscal asked. Muslan’s popularity was growing by the day.
The spectacle of throwing back drinks.
His refined appearance.
His unusual fighting style.
And his unbroken winning streak.
These factors had made Muslan more popular than even the main-event gladiators.
He looked as if he had been born to fight. Even Roccom could no longer ignore him.
“What do you think?”
“He has outstanding talent. However…”
“However? Is there something bothering you? If he keeps growing like this, I’d gladly make him the face of Roccom Arena. He hasn’t fought in a proper match yet, but he’s already shown he can handle it. They say he performed brilliantly during the rebel suppression.”
Roccom’s eyes gleamed as he spoke. Liscal nodded in agreement.
“Even so, something still bothers you?”
Roccom pressed again, puzzled by Liscal’s reaction.
“Speak. Don’t hold back. You’re not the type to be swayed by jealousy or envy, Liscal.”
“Thank you for always thinking so highly of me.”
“Then tell me. What’s troubling you?”
“Alcohol.”
“Alcohol?”
“Yes. You know what becomes of gladiators who love drink.”
“Hmm…”
At the mention of alcohol, Roccom stroked his chin. Several memories surfaced. After organizing his thoughts, he spoke again.
“You’re right. You would know best about that.”
A strange expression flickered across Liscal’s face and vanished. Gladiators who loved drink saw their records plummet eventually. Liscal himself had been one such case. He had drunk heavily during his active years, and his performance had suffered greatly.
Still, he had been lucky.
He retired with all his limbs intact.
Yet he had failed to achieve his goal.
Liscal’s goal had been to save enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life.
Instead, he was still working as a slave manager. The work was easier than fighting, but he was far from wealthy.
“Yes. Muslan drinks excessively.”
“That’s exactly what drives the crowd wild, isn’t it?”
Roccom said with a laugh. The thought amused him. The man downed strong liquor and still won. At first it seemed like luck, but now he was defeating even the strongest opponents.
Roccom held Muslan’s skills in high regard.
He believed only someone on the level of the Fist King Basqun could stand a chance if he returned.
Yet among boxers under twenty, no such fighter existed. There were a few in the adult division who might compete, but none in Muslan’s age group.
“On top of that, he takes far too many hits. His body is tough enough to endure it for now, but… I’m still worried.”
“A flower that withers quickly?”
“Yes.”
“I think so too.”
Roccom grinned.
“?”
“But listen, Liscal. The more Muslan drinks and the more he gets hit, the higher his popularity will climb. Have we ever had a gladiator rise this fast? There’s no precedent in Airs.”
“That’s true, but…”
“For now, it might not be so bad to just watch. It seems Airs’ blessing is shining on him.”
The god of gladiators, Airs.
It was also the name of the city.
Here, they said rising gladiators were under Airs’ protection.
“What’s wrong? You still look displeased.”
Roccom asked.
“No, sir. Pouring too much into a flower that withers quickly…”
“It doesn’t matter if it withers quickly. It’s already bringing in a fortune. Do you know why? More and more nobles are betting on Muslan’s matches.”
“But…”
“They don’t even need to come watch to place bets.”
“Ah…”
“Muslan is so unusual that rumors spread fast. The nearby nobles seem to be using him for their wagers.”
“If that’s the case…”
“Exactly. The commission is quite lucrative. Even if we return the money, we’ll recover it quickly. It’s a shame we can’t advance to the capital, but that’s how it is. So leave him be for now. It would be nice if he keeps winning without falling, but even if he doesn’t, it won’t matter.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll leave him as he is.”
“No, not just leave him. He’s made some requests. Support them as well. We can’t let the flower wither too soon.”
“Some of them are rather difficult.”
“What are they?”
“A separate training ground…”
“Is that difficult?”
“They’re already quite isolated. No one goes near them anyway.”
“Then make it official. We have the space.”
“Yes.”
“And because of that odd-eyed girl, they can’t use the dining hall?”
“Muslan insists on keeping her with him at all times, so…”
“Isaac and Obben don’t mind?”
“They have barbarian blood. They don’t seem to care.”
“Then give them a separate area. And make sure they’re fed well. Your job is no longer to kill Muslan. It’s to keep him alive and useful for as long as possible. Understood?”
“Yes!”
“Twenty-four?”
Muslan stared at Isaac in surprise. He was shocked by the man’s age.
“Yeah. Why?”
The visual didn’t match at all. Twenty-four? The one-armed Isaac looked easily over forty. Even more shocking was that Obben was roughly the same age.
Despite being relatively young, both were already treated as old veterans and has-beens at Roccom Arena. It showed just how brutal survival was for gladiator slaves.
“You’re only twenty-four and you’re the senior here?”
“Only? At twenty-four you’re practically a grandfather in this world. Most gladiator slaves die before they even turn twenty.”
“So what age did the captain guess we were?”
“Uh…”
“How old?”
“Twenty-three?”
“Well… we do look a bit older.”
“……”
Isaac and Obben now called Muslan “captain.” After the rebel suppression, they had grown much closer.
Muslan spoke casually with them. Wiris, the odd-eyed girl, had also blended naturally into the group. They spent most of their days in the separate training ground that had been prepared for them.
Wiris learned archery and the Seoncheon Yusimgyeol from Muslan. She also received basic combat training.
The others focused on combat techniques and internal energy cultivation.
“At this rate, Wiris might catch up to the captain’s archery soon.”
Wiris had a natural talent for the bow. She also used Seoncheon Yusimgyeol exceptionally well, producing greater power than others.
Though her body had been hardened by hard labor, she was still a growing girl. She should have struggled to draw a proper bow. Yet she drew it cleanly. That meant she was fully utilizing the technique’s effects.
She couldn’t yet handle a bow on the level of Muslan’s Raiphon, but she had become proficient with ordinary bows.
Speed was still her weakness.
But given enough time, she was becoming nearly flawless against stationary targets.
“She still has a long way to go. She needs to shoot while moving, shoot in the wind, and sometimes shoot quickly.”
“That much is…”
“Still, she’s doing well.”
Wiris bowed her head quietly toward Muslan. She was as silent as Chira.
Muslan didn’t rush her. He knew her quiet nature came from how she had lived until now.
One day, she would surely speak freely.
Six months had passed since Muslan’s first match in the arena. He remained an undefeated, popular gladiator.
The others were the same.
Isaac, Obben, and Chira had not lost once.
Chira in particular had grown even larger from constant victories and good food. But the greatest change had come to Wiris.
The filthy Wiris was now clean and pleasant to look at. Because she had become so beautiful, she covered half her face with cloth. The biggest change was her physique.
Some growth came naturally with her age, but the main reason was improved nutrition. With proper meals, she had grown taller and gained muscle. She now stood around 160 centimeters. Still growing, she might reach 170.
And one other person had changed greatly.
Muslan himself.