The Arena (4)

This entire arena spectacle had taught me a few fundamental truths about the world—foremost among them, why casinos handed out pocket money to gamblers who had lost their shirts.

It was all part of the house's scheme.

The house had bled them dry, so tossing them a few coins for cab fare was merely an investment to ensure they came back for another round. In my case, things were even sweeter. I had to prepare absolutely nothing; all I did was point my screen at the arena and let people watch.

Apparently, two giant marsupials beating the living daylights out of each other was an extraordinary novelty even by the standards of other dimensions, because viewers swarmed in by the droves. Of course, my soaring reputation as a prominent fixed handle on the Gallery played no small part in drawing the crowd.

Did I make... a killing?

I pulled up my balance to check the Ladder Points accumulated purely from transaction fees.

Every time I announced the outcome of a kangaroo bout, points had poured in like an avalanche. Just from those cuts alone, the balance sat at an eye-watering three hundred thousand points. And that was after handing out disaster relief stipends to the poor souls who had wiped out their accounts.

Then again, hoarding points doesn't really do me any practical good.

They were points that existed solely within the confines of the Gallery.

What could one actually buy with them? Precisely nothing.

They were essentially novelty play-money. That was why even anonymous unregistered users were allowed to wager and trade them. Someone might wonder if anyone would pay real cash for them, but the system had blocked real-currency trades from the very beginning. The moment cash transactions were permitted, the points' purity as Gallery currency would be completely compromised.

They're basically digital trophies.

Yet, in an almost bizarre way, the culture around them was viciously addictive.

Why would something with zero real-world value, that couldn't be easily earned, be so intoxicating?

Points could only be accumulated through pure effort and luck. Reality had almost zero leverage here. When those factors intertwined, the users developed an obsessive attachment to the numbers.

Naturally, that also meant the forum was mass-producing prospective gambling addicts by the minute. Even so, ruining oneself on a message board was infinitely better than ruining one's real life.

Not even the main moderator was immune.

As a former paladin and cleric, gambling was fundamentally at odds with his character, but this was an online forum. As long as one kept it strictly quarantined from real life, it was harmless fun.

Besides, earning points normally isn't hard anyway.

According to the Juddak, the Gallery planned to stick with the classic model for acquiring points: posts, comments, and upvotes. Writing a post or dropping a comment awarded one point each, and receiving an upvote earned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠another. Under that framework, anyone active could rack them up in no time—and for me, it was laughably effortless.

Every time I posted, upvotes hammered into the thread by the hundreds, and virtually everything I wrote shot straight to the Best Posts board. Because this Gallery connected people across dimensions, the vote counts were staggering; the threads covering the kangaroo arena alone had easily shattered the ten-thousand-upvote mark.

Hmm. Maybe I should stop broadcasting the fights?

So many people were going broke that I had begun to feel genuine secondhand guilt. Perhaps it was wiser to wait until the Juddak finalized clear platform regulations before resuming coverage. Either that, or I could just continually distribute relief funds to keep the economy circulating.

Chewing over those thoughts, I glanced back down at the arena pit where the marsupials were still fiercely brawling.

"*Sniffle.*"

"Wonmo. Does it still hurt?"

"*Sniffle...* Kkyuu..."

Having burst into dramatic wails earlier, Wonmo remained stubbornly clung to my pant leg. He seemed to have regained some composure, but fat tears still welled up in his big, round eyes. How on earth could an owlbear cub be this adorable? I gently stroked his feathered head.

"WOOOO-AAARGH!"

In the ring, another brutal duel reached its conclusion. I dutifully updated the Gallery with the final score. My thread had devolved into a collective gathering hall for degenerate dreamers and destitute losers, but I resolved to pay it no mind.

Setting aside who won or lost, I realized I needed to understand the mechanics governing this arena.

The kangaroos make sense, but what in the world are those guys doing here?

Kangaroos fought over mates—the winner claimed the female of his choice. That made biological sense for marsupials, but it explained nothing about the odd assemblage of spectators perched further along the ledges: a bear, a raccoon, a deer, and several others. Had they come just to spectate, like me?

Can animals not resist entertainment either?

These were no ordinary woodland critters; they were denizens of the Four Seasons Forest, endowed with formidable intelligence. There were stories back on Earth about dolphins—creatures possessing the intellect of human children—poking pufferfish to get high off the toxin for recreational hallucinations.

Still, from a bear's perspective, aren't the rest of them just food?

It was a thoroughly baffling sight that treated common sense like garbage. Stranger still was that the kangaroos were actively serving food to those foreign beasts, pampering them like high-rolling VIPs in private suites.

I need to scout this out.

I decided to pause the live updates and take a closer look. The moment I posted that I was stepping away, the comments erupted into a frantic uproar begging me to keep broadcasting, but I had more pressing priorities. I needed to know how this arena was structured, what impact it had on the ecosystem, and above all, whether it posed any threat to my shelter.

"Hey, snap out of it. We're moving."

"Watching that."

"Watch it later. We need to figure out where we are first."

"Mmh... Understood."

I pulled Ggobongi away from his trance. They always said watching a fire across the river and watching a street fight were the most entertaining spectacles in the world. Having spent his entire life fighting strictly for raw survival, Ggobongi was utterly mesmerized by violence staged purely for sport.

Could the other animals feel the same way?

Perhaps those beasts lounging in the VIP area had gathered for the exact same thrill of pure leisure. Because they belonged to different species, the kangaroos had likely cordoned them off to prevent chaotic incidents. If that was the case, Ggobongi and I should be able to approach without trouble.

"Wonmo, don't you think you can let go now?"

"Kkyuu..."

Since he refused to detach from my ankle, I scooped the cub into my arms. His first taste of defeat seemed to have scarred his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pride, because the second I lifted him, he burrowed tight against my chest. Patting his back reassuringly, I made my way toward the foreign beasts' gallery.

"Kku-eong?"

Not a single kangaroo barred our path, allowing us to stroll right into the section. The moment we stepped onto the terrace, a massive black bear turned its head, fixing me with a look that plainly asked what business I had there. The surrounding animals mirrored the sentiment, their gazes anything but welcoming.

I wasn't sure whether their wariness stemmed from Ggobongi or the colossal sloth clinging quietly to my back, but at least they didn't outright attack. It felt more like the cold reception given to an unfamiliar face intruding on a private club.

"*Snort.*"

"...Huh? Wait, could you be..."

Among them sat a face I recognized.

One might argue that all deer looked identical, but an alpha of its stature possessed distinct individuality.

"The campfire? You're the one I gave the embers to, aren't you?"

"*Pffft.*"

"It really is you."

During the dead of winter, when the river was frozen solid, I had encountered this stag while fetching water. It was the same monster that had knocked a bull shark cold with a terrifying hind-leg mule kick. What in the world was it doing hanging out in a kangaroo cave?

Is this cave some kind of regional crossroads?

I had no idea how the kangaroos had pitched the event or why these creatures had accepted the invitation. As I stood there bewildered by the sheer absurdity of it all, my gaze drifted downward—and I noticed what was resting on the stone floor.

What... is all this?

It wasn't just assorted wild herbs.

Whether donated by the bear or brought by someone else, an enormous honeycomb sat nearby, dripping with rich nectar. Yet the honey wasn't ordinary amber; it glittered with an ethereal, golden sheen, as though dusted with powdered gold.

The comb alone looked priceless, but the assortment laid out beside it was just as staggering.

One thing was abundantly clear: I couldn't touch a single leaf.

Touching that pile wouldn't just earn me dirty looks; it might cost me an arm. I resolved to stay put and observe, waiting to see what purpose these treasures served.

"PU-OOOOOO!"

Another roar signaled the end of a match below. I shifted my attention back to the ring; from this elevated vantage point, the arena floor was visible in crystal clarity.

"Krooong."

While I was watching the pit, the massive black bear that had been sitting quietly rose to its feet. Puzzled, I watched as it lumbered out of the terrace with heavy, deliberate strides, heading straight toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the center of the arena floor. As I blinked in surprise, the other animals began stirring as well.

Is the show over?

There was no other reason for them to mobilize. Questions sprouted endlessly in my mind.

"Puo. Pu-uuu."

"Whoa, hey! D-Don't push!"

To make matters worse, a kangaroo materialized out of nowhere and shoved me from behind, attempting to herd me down toward the arena pit. I narrowly sidestepped the shove, slipping back into the safety of the viewing stands while trying to process the unfolding chaos.

"KU-OOOOOO!"

"*Snort!*"

Down in the sand, the bear and the stag—both of whom had been mere spectators moments earlier—slammed into each other with violent fury. The stag drove forward with its wicked antlers, while the bear caught the tines with its massive paws, locking horns in an earth-shaking contest of raw power.

It was an unannounced exhibition match—or perhaps, the true main event.

THUD!

"Ku-ack?!"

The contest ended decisively in the stag's favor. Its crown of antlers plunged straight into the bear's solar plexus, knocking the mountain of black fur clean off its feet in an instant knockout.

Yet what followed was even more surreal.

The next bout wasn't between apex predators, but between a raccoon and a kangaroo.

"KEEE-EK!"

The kangaroo claimed an effortless victory; the disparity in weight classes was simply insurmountable. After that, creature after creature took to the sand, clashing until winners and losers were sharply delineated.

What caught my eye was the tournament structure: the same contenders stepped into the ring multiple times, and unlike the earlier amateur rounds, only the fiercest and most terrifying kangaroos participated.

Time ticked by as the brackets advanced.

CRACK!

"Kkeok!"

The stag's hind leg lashed out, catching the championship kangaroo flush under the jaw. The sickening impact snapped the marsupial's head back, its tongue lolling sideways as it collapsed unconscious into the dirt.

The undisputed victor was the stag.

"PU-OOOOOO!"

"WOOOO-AAARGH!"

The kangaroo horde cheered with wild reverence, while the vanquished party's peers bowed their heads in begrudging surrender.

Basking in the glory of absolute triumph, the stag marched back up to the terrace.

"*Chomp, chomp, munch.*"

"..."

"*Chew, chew.*"

Without a shred of hesitation, the champion began gorging itself on the spoils of war—the golden honeycomb and the priceless herbs. Watching it feast, the truth finally crystallized in my mind.

It really is an arena.

This wasn't a loose metaphor. In the truest, most brutal sense of the word, this cave was a genuine colosseum.