Huh? Only Up to 29th Place?
"Huh? Why only up to 29th place?"
"Did that Vulcan guy get eliminated or something?"
The artisans who had entered the monthly artisan contest gathered one after another in front of the preliminary judging results announced just before the practical evaluation. And they noticed something odd. The rankings, which should have listed up to 30th place, only went up to 29th.
Did that mean one person was outright eliminated? Before the practical evaluation even started? If so, it was painfully obvious who that person was, and a few faces lit up with hopeful grins. Since Vulcan had taken 1st in the preliminaries, his absence from the list would mean one major championship contender was out of the running.
"Hey! What's written over there?"
But then someone spotted a separate sheet of paper posted off to the side. It explained why the main results only listed up to 29th place.
[Considering the special characteristics of Artisan Vulcan's work, its evaluation will be postponed until after the practical evaluation.]
Judging postponed. This was highly unusual too. No, unprecedented. Postponing an evaluation meant even the judges couldn't properly assess its value—and for a panel of prideful artisans, admitting that kind of uncertainty could cast doubt on their own expertise. Of course, no one would dare question their credentials given their reputations, but still.
"Even without a bow, just arrows? And they postpone judgment? What're they planning?"
"Probably just to be thorough. Like it's gonna change after the practical eval."
"Yeah. What can you do with a single arrow? Even using it like a dagger, it's not its intended purpose—penalty points, right?"
"Where is that guy anyway? Doesn't seem to be here."
Perhaps because the contest results were now out of their hands, the waiting room buzzed with chatter from people who'd previously ignored each other. They gossiped like old hens, then suddenly scanned the room—and Vulcan was nowhere in sight.
"Probably... over there?"
Someone pointed toward the arena where the practical evaluation was about to begin. Amid the gladiators warming up—ones the artisans had hired in advance—stood Vulcan, the only artisan who'd equipped himself and stepped out personally.
'Am I the only artisan here?'
Vulcan had entered the arena to prepare for the practical evaluation without even checking the judging results. He quickly scanned his opponents and their gear. Every other artisan had designated a gladiator and equipped them. Sure, some skipped hiring due to costs and fought themselves like Vulcan, but a blacksmith class without proper attack skills couldn't do much on item power alone—so no one paid him much mind.
'Can't blame 'em, looking like this.'
His gear was just a leather light armor set, a small shield covering his forearm, and a single arrow clutched in hand. No sub-weapons either. Most probably saw him as half-eliminated already.
'Mostly warrior-types or magic swordsmen, huh? Makes sense.'
But Vulcan leisurely analyzed them. He even ran mental combat simulations to counter most effectively.
'Dragon Eye. Total cheat skill.'
This practical eval crammed 30 warriors into one spot to induce chaotic melee, so reading opponents was crucial. Vulcan's Dragon Eye revealed their levels, classes, skills—and even the gear info from the artisans who'd chosen them in prelims and finals. He held an absolute info edge, predicting moves with his veteran combat experience.
'A few interesting ones. Might've been thrown off if I hadn't known.'
Most gear skewed toward defense or offense per the "shield that blocks anything, weapon that pierces anything" theme, but a few user-crafted pieces had clever twists. Effective only if the enemy was unaware, though—and Vulcan had already seen through them.
"We'll now begin the practical evaluation. Everyone, prepare!"
The announcer's cue had gladiators eyeing each other, claiming positions, and picking first targets. Some exchanged subtle glances—pre-arranged alliances or instant pacts.
"Reeeady~~~~! Fight!"
The battle-start signal rang out. Warriors charged, picking foes.
"Raaargh!!!"
The attention-grabber was a black tower shield and lance wielder. Confident in strength, he bulldozed straight ahead with heavy gear—impaling on lance or crushing with shield, like a chariot.
"Die!!"
"Don't clash head-on! Flank him!!"
In this melee, choices boiled down to two: gang up on the strongest first, or pick off weaklings and let titans clash later. Both played out on this mini-battlefield. Some coordinated swift strikes on tough foes; others, deeming victory hopeless, targeted nearby softies to show off.
"Hm. Still getting ignored, huh?"
Vulcan fit neither. Written off as irrelevant—no one rushed him, figuring he'd draw no glory even if taken out. Fine for conserving energy, but a pride issue too. Despite his ragged, bizarre look, he flashed a feral grin at the snubs.
'That one's first.'
His eyes locked on a magic swordsman who'd stuck to the arena wall at start. A warrior trailed, suspecting high chant prep, but the swordsman cleaved him quick. Foe's gear was solid—physical defense specialized—but fatal against magic-enchanted blade plus buffs and blasts. Protective spell triggered for safety: HP drops to 1 and ejects from field.
Not unforeseen; early pick-off since magic swordsman was a hard counter. Victory went to him anyway. Then he assumed a weird stance.
'Magic artillery style here, huh.'
Like the chariot guy, he slammed his massive tower shield down. Propped sword atop a groove at eye level. Zero mobility for tank-like one-shot power. Shield and sword likely amplified mana. Shield absorbed recoil, shielded caster; sword as main gun. Risky in tight space—prime target—but he pulled it off unmolested, gathering mana.
"Damn it!"
"Magic cannon?!"
"Who let that go unchecked?!"
Boom!!!
Not suited didn't mean ineffective once fired. AoE blast ravaged clustered foes—no need to dodge individually. Magic-defense gear holders endured; pure physical tanks ate massive damage. Magic truly fantasy's flower—that gut-punch spectacle flipped the field.
Vulcan, who'd predicted it via Dragon Eye, had slipped outside range early.
'No bow, but...'
Waiting for numbers to thin was smart, but this proved his gear's prowess—not just last-man-standing. He'd reveal power soon; could handle all if needed.
'Touch it, and it's over! Power Throw!!'
Whoosh!!
Vulcan gripped the arrow shaft, activating one of his few skills. Troll-like monstrous strength hurled it at the foe.
"Guh?!"
"!!"
One shot ended it. Mana amp helped, but hunkered behind sturdy shield? Arrow pierced clean. Shield spell popped like sugar glass. Dodging was iffy full evasion; tanking doomed it.
Problem for Vulcan: Gladiators ignoring his lone arrow now whipped toward him.
Couldn't let him retrieve it. Whatever that was, it packed punch.
"Die!!"
Some charged, sensing threat—co-op needed for that one-hitter.
Whistle.
Vulcan whistled. Shield's telekinesis triggered with mana; mind-control fine, but strong imagery eased it. He'd heard handlers sync via sounds/commands/signals—mimicking that.
'Disrupts their heads too.'
Whistle plants false link to telekinesis; later, silent use for ambushes.
"Urk?!"
Charging warrior's blade tip wobbled—mysterious force nudged it, ruining balance.
Scraaape!
Even head-on, sword glanced off shield's curved, polished surface—designed to slide.
"Gah!!"
Miss means counter. Blade sprouted from foe's side. Vulcan's empty hand now held a sword. Magic? No time to think—retired.
Oncomers halted. They'd seen it: Fallen weapon auto-flew to Vulcan's hand.
'Mana Needles—not bad.'
Mana-forged needle/spike blades from picked-up weapon's option skill. No time to read on grab, but Dragon Eye pre-scanned.
'How strong are yours? Let's see.'
He charged pale-faced foes first. Some ignored him for others, spurring his show-off—kindly testing gear for early-eliminated artisans' gladiators too.
'Telekinesis use counts, right?'
Worry it'd short his eval? Nah—telekinesis enabled it.
Whiiistle!
His true weapon returned too. Arrow piercing magic swordsman and wall flew back on call.
"The arrow... moving alive...!"
Whiiistle!
Each whistle sent it snaking like alive, skewering foes. Adamantium ignored defenses; even non-retires got wounded, distracted—easy pickings for Vulcan.
Whiiiiiistle...
Soon, only Vulcan stood unscathed. Chariot charger, whip-flexer, mana-rotor saw-blader—all knelt.
"The final winner is Vulcan!!"
"Wooooaaah!!!!"
No one pierced his shield. No one blocked his strikes. Defying all predictions, Vulcan conquered the practical eval too.