Chapter 84
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: The Event Tournament
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The arena was bustling with people from early in the morning. General seating was first-come, first-served only.
Abel gazed at the scene through the window.
‘Lots of families, too.’
There weren’t many forms of entertainment in this world.
Not every home had a computer or TV like on modern Earth, and smartphones were out of the question, of course.
So people got excited over even small spectacles—plays, puppet shows, circuses, that sort of thing.
Strictly speaking, the underground arena fell into illegal territory, but that’s why it thrived in the capital.
They half-turned a blind eye for the sake of letting people blow off steam.
Of course, the official arena was by far the most popular. The scale was on another level.
‘The line right now is easily ten times longer.’
Abel tried counting the crowd with his eyes but soon gave up and leaned back in his seat.
“We’ve arrived.”
Not long after, the coachman’s voice came from outside.
Abel said to Iolin.
“Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
The two rose and stepped down from the carriage.
Once out, they could see the arena building. Not the front entrance like last time, but the rear.
There was a separate entrance for fighters.
‘Fighter, huh.’
Abel chuckled to himself.
Even for an underground arena, he’d been active as a fighter for years.
In contrast, he’d only become an academy cadet a few months ago.
Yet strangely, right now, “cadet” felt more familiar than “fighter.”
As he started toward the building with that thought, someone waved and approached.
“Abel! Iolin!”
It was Doyle, who’d shown them around the arena last time.
Abel greeted him back as he walked over.
“Came to greet us?”
“Yeah. Can’t have you wandering around when you’ve got a match today.”
“Wandering? I could find the waiting room blindfolded.”
“Show-off. I came out personally, you know.”
“Got it, got it. Just kidding.”
Doyle grinned, nodded, and beckoned.
“Follow me.”
“Yes.”
“Yeah.”
They entered the building behind him and saw people bustling about.
Doyle wove through the crowded hallway with ease and soon stopped at a small door.
“Here.”
“When’s our match?”
“That’s announced an hour before the start. Forgot?”
“No. Just hoping you’d spill it early.”
“Keep dreaming. Go wait inside. Let me know if you need anything.”
After chiding Abel, Doyle hurried off, saying he was busy.
Iolin watched him go, then said to Abel.
“Shall we go in?”
“Yeah.”
Abel reached out and turned the doorknob.
The door clicked open, revealing the interior.
The waiting room was quite spacious. Overly so for just two people.
Of course, it wasn’t spacious for no reason.
“Tito…….”
Iolin murmured softly.
As she said, two Titos lay on one side of the room.
Abel walked in and explained to Iolin, who wasn’t used to this.
“They usually keep the machines in the waiting room. Gotta sync with the rider before the match.”
“You sync here?”
“Yeah. The engineer comes right here. The room connects straight to the arena, so you just ride out that door when it’s time.”
Abel pointed to a large door on one side.
The details differed slightly, but the overall structure was the same as the underground arena.
‘The underground one copied places like this, so it makes sense.’
Abel examined the Titos more closely with that in mind.
“This one’s mine. That one’s yours.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. See, the names are labeled here.”
Sure enough, small name tags were attached to the Gigants.
Iolin nodded slightly and inspected hers.
Abel turned to check his own.
‘Modified type, as expected.’
He could tell at a glance.
This Tito had undergone various modifications.
Iolin noticed too and commented.
“The armor looks super sturdy.”
“Yeah. It’ll shrug off most impacts. Probably for safety.”
The machine was focused on “defense” overall.
Not quite heavy-armored, but the cockpit area was reinforced solidly.
“Output’s probably capped at half, too.”
“Half?”
“Yeah. Can’t have any fatalities, just in case.”
Abel looked for any other peculiarities.
“So how do you decide the winner?”
“Simple. When one side’s disabled or surrenders.”
“Disabled?”
“Joints wrecked. Mana runs out. That sort of thing.”
“Ah.”
After checking things over, Abel stretched and stood.
“I’ll rest a bit.”
“Okay.”
Leaving Iolin still examining her machine, Abel sat in a prepared chair on one side.
Not just to rest—he was reviewing tactics in his head.
‘The skill gap’ll narrow a lot in all sorts of ways.’
The provided Titos had boosted defense but much reduced attack power.
What did that change?
Even with a big skill difference, matches wouldn’t end in seconds.
Attacks that would’ve been lethal before were more likely to just graze.
Users of thin swords would be at a disadvantage, too. Less impact.
‘Like Iolin.’
Her sword was a bit thinner than average. Not quite a rapier, but close.
Weakened output and tougher armor would disadvantage her in many ways.
Yet oddly, he couldn’t picture her dropping out early.
‘Well, my nose is three feet long.’
The bracket had come out days ago, so he’d checked the participants.
Only one overwhelming favorite.
Jackal of the Dual Swords, a former mercenary.
Mercenary or not, he was a top-tier Gigant rider who’d joined subjugation forces multiple times. A true expert.
‘Isn’t it cheating for someone like that to enter?’
A bit unfair, but Jackal was likely invited by the arena, not self-entered.
Even for an event tournament, no big names meant low hype.
Event tournaments allowed anyone except official pros and active knights.
‘Jackal’s the top pick to win, for now.’
There were several other strong contenders, if not quite at his level.
Plus two second-years and one third-year from the academy.
As Abel reviewed the info in his head, Iolin finished checking her Gigant and asked.
“There are sixteen entrants total, right?”
She probably knew, but Abel answered earnestly.
“Yeah. Gotta win four to take it.”
“Pretty grueling schedule.”
“Event style. Not purely about raw skill.”
Official tournaments gave rest for condition, but this was a one-day event.
Started morning, ended late night—tight schedule.
“Stamina management’ll be key.”
“Exactly. Go all-out in one match, and you drop pathetically.”
“Could draw a monster in the first round, too.”
“Yeah. Luck’s part of it.”
Iolin fell silent for a moment, then spoke.
“If possible, I’d like to fight you.”
At her sudden words, Abel looked up, smiled, and said.
“Then you’ll need to reach the semis at least.”
“You?”
“...Ouch. Didn’t expect that burn. You’re pretty sharp-tongued.”
Iolin tilted her head to the side.
She seemed serious, not joking.
Realizing that, Abel shook his head.
“Confidence overflowing.”
“No intention of losing to anyone.”
“I see... Well, since we’re in it.”
Whether realistic or not.
“Gotta aim for the win first.”
Third place won’t cut it. That mindset wouldn’t get anywhere.
“Alright. Let’s meet in the finals.”
“Yeah.”
Iolin nodded slightly and drew her practice sword.
Seeing that, Abel stood, grabbing his own sword.
Whoosh-!
Swinging the hefty blade vertically sent a thrill through his muscles.
Two hours until the matches.
* * *
– Weekend morning visitors! Welcome!
A booming voice echoed through the arena. Doyle was today’s announcer.
His rough face and burly build gave bad first impressions, but he was actually quite the orator.
Doyle shouted into the voice-amplifying artifact.
– Sixteen entrants in this tournament! Sixteen warriors pouring their all...!
The crowd roared with cheers, showing their excitement.
Not every spectator was so enthusiastic, though.
“The favorite’s Jackal, right?”
“Yes. Former mercenary who shone in subjugation forces multiple times.”
In the central seats.
The best view of the arena.
These were invitees, unlike the regular crowd.
Meaning, people of notable wealth or status.
A barrier around their section was only natural.
“Hmm. This one looks pretty good too.”
“Damian. Rumor is he fought in the underground arena.”
Instead of cheering, they evaluated each entrant in conversation.
“Five academy cadets. Way more than usual, no?”
“Quite a few. Arete’s tournament in two days probably thinned the pool.”
“Can’t be helped with Arete.”
Arete was the highest-rated arena.
Two days later or not, back-to-back tournaments were near impossible stamina-wise.
That’s why both Abel and Iolin could enter this one.
Among other reasons.
“But first-years. Kinda interesting.”
“Just filler, no?”
“Well, yeah. First-year or not, talented...”
As the chatty ones kept talking.
The woman in the front row, silent till now, spoke.
“Who knows.”
Her striking purple hair and eyes fixed on the entrant list as she spoke.
“I think differently.”
“I-Is that so?”
“Hmm. Maybe I’m off.”
The others suddenly backpedaled, denying their own words.
Watching her desperately.
Because the speaker was none other than “Deborah.”
“Just a hunch, though.”
Even just a hunch, hers rarely missed.
Rising from fallen nobility to tycoon was thanks to that “hunch.”
Deborah looked up at the arena.
The first match riders were entering.
Thud-!
Among them was the one her “hunch” had noted.
Academy first-year cadet.
Abel.