Where Death is Entertainment
The Empire.
Gleaming gold and blood-red.
Passing through the massive gateway where those two colors intermingled, the landscape of the Empire came into view.
Even from afar, the circular arena stood out with its overwhelming, colossal size.
Around it lay a mountain of towering stone monuments.
On the streets, children playing at sword fighting ran around energetically, while citizens gossiped about today's arena victor.
Those desperate for immediate pleasure and excitement begged for scalped tickets, while behind them, nobles rode past, using runaway slaves as horses.
The Lumienir Empire.
A nation where even death was part of the entertainment, and where survival was the ultimate art form.
And right now, Del Roan and his party had just set foot inside.
—"Waaaaah!"
The thunderous roar of the crowd echoing from the arena made Charbun freeze in his tracks.
It was a cheer bursting with a raw, vibrant energy that could never be heard in Horoljulol.
As he hesitated, Roan stepped up beside him.
"Nervous?"
"P-pardon? Ah, yes... I've just never seen this many people before."
"Well, Horoljulol is pretty sparsely populated. Still, you'll have to get used to it. We're already drawing quite a few eyes."
As if to prove Roan's point, several passersby began whispering behind them.
"Whoa... look at him... those tattoos are insane."
"Is he an arena fighter? What's his ring name? Should we ask?"
Shrinking under the sudden attention, Charbun hunched his shoulders slightly.
"I-I feel so embarrassed..."
"If you're embarrassed, why did you take your shirt off?"
"I felt like... hiding them would make me look weak. And since I am Lord Roan's companion, I must carry myself with pride."
They were noble words, but his slumped shoulders made the sentiment fall rather flat.
"Well said!"
Roan patted him on the back in encouragement.
Being praised by his savior was a wonderful feeling.
Just as a goofy grin began to spread across Charbun's face—
"Then let's go sign up right away!"
"Y-yes? Sign up? For what..."
Roan pointed toward the arena.
"We came here for the arena, didn't we? We should get right to it."
Charbun panicked.
They had spent a long time traveling to the Empire. He had naturally assumed there would be some downtime to rest.
His eyes darted left and right.
"I heard just now that you need a ring name to participate. What should we go with?"
"Oh? W-we get to choose?"
He saw the other two members of the party immediately follow behind Roan, clearly used to this pace.
But what choice did he have? He was the one who had insisted on tagging along.
Well, yes. This is still infinitely better than being offered up as a sacrifice. I'll show them what I can do here.
Steeling his resolve actually made him feel a bit more at ease.
Just you wait, Empire. Charbun, the regenerating warrior, is coming.
...Unfortunately, Charbun's newfound motivation was instantly snuffed out by what happened next.
"Sorry, but in the Empire, even death requires a reservation. Take a look at the ledger."
The gruff receptionist flipped open a book.
The pages, stained crimson at the edges, were packed tight without a single blank space.
"Seven days from now. That's when we'll have an opening. It should give us enough time to prep your graves, too."
"Ugh... nothing we can do about that, then. Please sign us up for the earliest available slot."
A forced seven-day rest.
It was more than enough time to completely deflate Charbun's burning determination.
"Um... so, what should we do now?"
Charbun's eyes kept drifting toward their surroundings.
Specifically, toward the Empire's sprawling marketplace.
It seemed he wanted to explore and enjoy the sights of this foreign land.
And of course!
There was no way Roan, who always kept a close eye on his comrades, would miss that.
"How about we take some free time, then? You guys must be exhausted after that long carriage ride anyway."
"Sounds good to me. I wanted to check out some of the Empire's books."
"Me too... I think I should pay a visit to the imperial slums."
Having their own pocket money, the two quickly accepted the suggestion.
They vanished into the crowd.
Watching them leave, Charbun also turned toward the market...
...only to turn right back toward Roan.
"I-I will accompany you, Lord Roan. It might seem presumptuous for a new recruit like me to wander off on his own..."
Seeing Charbun approach hesitantly, Roan clapped his hands together.
"Ah, right. I didn't think about that. Charbun."
"Yes?"
"Give me your hand."
"Pardon...?"
Though bewildered, Charbun extended his hand.
Clink, clink.
Silver coins rained into his palm.
"Wh-what?! This is..."
"Fifty silver. The Empire uses the same currency as the Kingdom, so it should work here. I've spent quite a bit lately, so I don't have much left, though."
It was a generous gift only possible because Roan never worried about money.
Charbun felt a wave of deep gratitude wash over him for what felt like the hundredth time.
Bowing deeply to express his thanks, he finally headed off toward the market.
Now, Roan was left alone.
He turned back to the reception desk.
"Back again? I don't know what you're trying to say, but I'm not moving your schedule up. If you're a man of honor, you should have the patience to wait."
"No, it's not that."
"...Then what?"
A week of free time.
The very first thing Del Roan chose to do with it was—
"I'd like to watch. Is that allowed?"
Spectating the arena.
....
"Bwahaha! Fight! Die!"
"Ah! Hey! Do you have any idea how much I bet on you?! Get up, damn it!"
"That's too shallow, you idiot! Aim for the heart!"
Spectators screaming for blood.
People cheering ecstatically every time blood splattered.
This was the Empire's history, its pride, and...
The playground of an Emperor who sold his soul to a demon.
Though he didn't know the exact details of how things would unfold, winning here was undoubtedly one of the conditions.
Taking a seat in the spectator stands, Roan scanned the arena.
The sandy floor of the colosseum.
It was perfect for covering up spilled blood.
Next, he observed the entrance where the gladiators emerged, and the VIP section where the nobles sat.
After examining everything he could, Roan made his assessment.
I don't sense any strange energy.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Did this mean the Emperor hadn't contracted with a demon yet?
But even if that were the case, it was bound to happen eventually.
Either way, taking first place and securing an audience with the Emperor was an absolute necessity.
"Now! The feast of blood and sand continues! Forget the excitement of the last match, for a new challenger approaches!"
The booming voice echoed throughout the stands.
Cheers and expectant murmurs rippled through the crowd from all directions.
"Today's challenger! A beast whose true nature erupts at the mere scent of blood! He will not stop until his opponent is torn to shreds! The relentless predator, Hound!"
A lean but well-muscled man entered the arena.
He carried two long, thin swords and wore armor that only covered his chest and arms, topped with a helmet.
It seemed to be standard-issue equipment provided by the arena.
Amidst the cheers and applause, the announcer's voice pierced through the din once more like a spear.
"Larger than a mountain! Stronger than iron! Ten battles, ten victories! The reigning champion of the arena! The living wall of the colosseum, Iron Colossus!"
—"Waaaaah!"
Deafening cheers and roars erupted.
From the opposite side, a man carrying a heavy blunt weapon stepped forward.
Unlike Hound, this man was clad in full plate armor from head to toe.
"Who will survive today?! Let the clash begin!!"
The high-energy commentary perfectly suited the grand spectacle.
As soon as it ended, the sounds of blood and steel erupted.
Drops of blood began to stain the sand one by one, and with each drop, the cheers and shouts grew louder.
A battle that could only end with the death of one participant.
The one who stood victorious at the end was—
"Cough... ugh... ah..."
Iron Colossus.
Hound drew his final breath, reduced to a bloody pulp from severe contusions and fractures.
Yet, in the Empire, where human life was cheaper than dirt, this was the ultimate dopamine rush.
"Ah! Is there truly no one who can overcome the champion's overwhelming wall?! Iron Colossus has once again blocked the path to an audience with His Majesty today!!"
*So we have to beat that guy to meet the Emperor.*
Having made his assessment, Roan watched Iron Colossus turn and walk away without a hint of lingering emotion.
Amidst the crowd's roaring cheers, Roan noticed one peculiar detail.
*His armor isn't moving.*
Even though it had been a fast-paced match, the champion's breathing hadn't faltered in the slightest.
It was as if he wasn't even alive.
*...Let's keep watching for now. We have plenty of time.*
Since Charbun still lacked the qualities of a proper scout, Roan had to help him out.
*Jane and Belgard are probably busy with their own tasks, right? I need to gather as much as I can.*
The ever-giving Del Roan.
Having decided to throw away his own leisure time, he resolved to live at the arena day in and day out.
He didn't even bother booking an inn, choosing instead to sleep rough right in front of the arena the entire time.
And on the sixth day.
Just one day before their scheduled match, Roan finally stood up.
"Damn... I really thought the challenger was going to win this time."
...Yes, he had become completely hooked on the arena matches!
It was a good thing he was broke; if he had bet any money, he would have lost every single copper.
*Still, duty calls.*
Now that he had gathered solid intelligence, it was time to meet up with his comrades and share the information.
Roan headed down toward the market to track them down.
Finding them wasn't difficult, given how distinctive everyone looked.
And so, the expedition party gathered in one place.
The first to speak was Erian Belgard.
"Um... Lord Roan? How exactly have you been living...?"
"Hmm? Why?"
"You look... a bit disheveled..."
Roan looked down at himself.
The physical toll of sleeping on the streets for six days was plain to see.
"I slept rough!"
"...Pardon?"
"What?"
"Uh... wait, what?"
Charbun, in particular, panicked at his words.
Fifty silver.
Was this the consequence of that money Roan had so generously handed over to him?
Had the leader of their party been forced to sleep on the streets because he had taken that money?
"I-I am so incredibly sorry!"
Charbun bowed so low his head almost touched the ground.
Of course, the other two felt similarly guilty.
*Wait... what? He couldn't even get a room?*
*Is he out of money...? Come to think of it, we've been spending Lord Roan's money this whole time...*
They had assumed everything would be fine because it was Roan, so they had happily wandered off without a single worry.
And the result of that was their leader sleeping on the streets.
Fidgeting anxiously, they all darted their eyes around, nervously reading the room.
But for Roan, their excessive concern was actually more uncomfortable.
After calming the three down by telling them it was fine and not to worry, Roan got straight to the point.
"Anyway, listen up. I gathered some information while watching the matches. So—"
Roan was about to proudly share his findings.
But before he could, the other three reacted with synchronized confusion.
"I gathered some information too, actually," Debi Jane said.
"You too, Lady Jane? I also did some investigating..." Belgard added.
"Ah, I collected a bit of info as well," Charbun chimed in.
It seemed none of the three had just been idling away their time!