The Imperial Arena
One day left.
Finally, all four of them had checked into the same inn.
The first order of business was washing away the grime clinging to Roan's body.
A luxurious lodging, booked by Jane and Belgard out of guilt.
After scrubbing himself squeaky clean, Roan emerged looking fresh and pristine.
"So... you guys did some research too?"
"Yeah. We had plenty of time," Jane replied.
In truth, Jane had intended to investigate what she could from the very beginning, but she kept that to herself.
...Because it was embarrassing!
"Even so, I didn't expect the other two to have looked into it as well."
"It seems everyone has a piece of information. It's rare to find a group so in sync," Belgard remarked.
They certainly hadn't expected Charbun, who had only recently joined, to fall in line with the group so quickly.
In any case, the more information, the better.
Roan took a seat, scanning the room before speaking.
"Then shall we go around and share what we found? Jane, you first."
"Hmph."
Snorting with confidence, Jane dumped a pile of books out of her backpack with a clatter.
"...Are those demonic grimoires?"
"Yes. There are quite a few books on demonology, but the Empire has far more than anywhere else."
At this point, the connection to demons was practically guaranteed.
Still, they couldn't ignore the others' findings.
"And what about you, Belgard?"
"Well, I heard a strange rumor in the slums."
Belgard paused for a beat before sharing what he had gathered.
"There was a champion who came from the slums, but apparently, they never returned."
"...Couldn't they just be living somewhere inside the Empire now?"
"I don't think so. Word is they've vanished entirely, with no news whatsoever. Though the public's attention has already shifted to the next arena tournament..."
This was also intriguing information.
The citizens were so obsessed with the arena that they barely noticed when someone went missing.
"Then... Charbun?"
At the mention of his name, Charbun flinched and sat up straight.
"Y-yes...! Yes, sir! I-I have...!"
"Since you came as a scout, your info should be better than ours, right? You didn't just lose your mind playing around since it's your first time in the outside world, did you?"
"N-no, that's not..."
"Jane! You shouldn't press him like that! He only joined us recently!"
Jane badgered, and Belgard intervened.
Caught in the middle, Charbun's lips parted and closed repeatedly before he finally blurted out his findings in desperation.
"T-they said that... if a gladiator with a unique ability wins, they receive a special prize!"
A unique ability.
A special prize.
What could that mean?
"Like wielding multiple swords at once, or electrocuting opponents as if controlling lightning... They said if someone wins with such eye-catching abilities, a special reward awaits them."
"...Who told you that?"
"A-a passing noble, sir. He was talking about it quite openly, as if he wanted to recruit someone like that."
"You weren't recruited, were you?"
Charbun vigorously shook his head.
His expression of absolute, unwavering loyalty—as if such a thing could never happen—was quite a sight to behold.
Having heard from all three, Roan pieced the information together.
"So... the condition is to win while displaying a unique ability."
"Wait a minute."
Jane interrupted him.
"Roan, didn't you find out anything? You were investigating in front of the arena until you looked like a beggar."
"Of course I did!"
"What is it?"
"Watching the matches was surprisingly fun! Though all my predictions turned out to be completely wrong!"
What a spectacular piece of information.
Jane's brow furrowed deeper by the second, while Belgard's expression turned thoroughly complicated.
After noting Charbun's anxious fidgeting, Roan grinned and continued.
"Of course, I found out other things too."
With that prelude, he shared his actual findings.
"The final wall of the arena right now... it's not human."
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Its movements aren't human. It doesn't seem to breathe, and occasionally, its joints bend completely backward."
Yet, the crowd cheered.
Because it was an entity that spilled copious amounts of crimson blood.
"Now! Having heard all this, you can probably guess what kind of plan I've come up with, right?"
"No...?"
"How on earth would we know?"
"U-um... do the other two of you not know either?"
Of course they didn't.
How could they guess the plan of a man whose thoughts were always an enigma?
Still, they had a vague idea.
"Well... isn't it something like, 'at least one of the four of us must win the tournament'?"
"Nope!"
"U-uh... I-I was thinking the same thing, sir. Is that not it?"
It wasn't.
Roan's plan was nothing of the sort.
There was no need for the other three to take unnecessary risks.
Roan looked down at his ring.
I have regeneration now, too. If the reason Charbun was chosen to audience with the Emperor in my past life was because of his regeneration...
It would be more than enough to catch their eye.
If it was a burden that could be borne, it was best to handle it himself.
"Each of you, win your matches and keep climbing. You can manage that much, right?"
"...At our current level, yes," Belgard agreed quietly.
Belgard gave a subtle nod of agreement.
The other two also seemed determined to go as far as they could.
"And! If you end up facing me, you forfeit. I will take the final victory and the audience with the Emperor."
He wasn't trying to hog the rewards; he was offering to shoulder the danger.
Knowing his true intentions, his companions couldn't easily object.
Seeing them hesitate, Roan quickly added to ease the mood.
"Of course, I get it! Forfeiting will get you booed to hell! But we have to prepare for any contingency. I want to preserve my strength for when I face that giant armor—"
"We know."
Jane cut off Roan's rapid-fire excuses.
"And it's not like we're going to ignore you. At least, nothing you say ever turns out to be wrong."
What followed was a fortress of trust, forged through shared trials.
Beginning with the haughty, prickly mage's expression of trust, the other two also steeled their resolves.
"Great! Then let's turn in early tonight to prepare for tomorrow!"
Their rest in the Empire was officially over.
Starting tomorrow, their battles would begin.
"Ladies and gentlemen!! Allow me to introduce!! The harbinger of death who traveled from beyond the Empire solely for this arena! She may be short, but her power is twice that of any man! Underestimate her, and she'll roast you alive!! The Butcher of the Red Mace!!"
"...Tacky."
Wearing armor and a helmet instead of her usual mage robes, Jane stepped forward.
Holding a small club that resembled a wand, she instantly unleashed a blazing roar.
She coated the tip in a massive flame spell and blasted her opponent clean out of the ring.
"What the hell?! Why didn't you kill him?!"
"Boo! You coward! Are you afraid of getting a little blood on your hands?!"
The crowd jeered furiously because she had merely knocked her opponent out of bounds instead of killing him.
But Jane didn't care in the slightest, turning on her heel and walking away.
"And up next!! Ah! Here is another gladiator from beyond the Empire!! The angel of the battlefield who crushes his opponents with his bare hands!! The Iron-Fisted Preacher!!"
"What an awful name..."
Belgard grumbled at the randomly assigned nickname, just as Jane had.
He, too, had discarded his usual attire for a gladiator's garb.
Well, I'll be forfeiting later anyway, so there's no need to stress over it...
"Uooooh!"
Even as his opponent charged at him, his thoughts remained leisurely.
Compared to the transcendent beings they had faced so far, this was practically yawn-inducing.
Crack!!
"Urgh."
Boom!!
"Aaaaargh!"
He threw a heavily telegraphed punch coated in holy power.
With that single blow, his opponent was sent flying.
Once again, the match ended in an out-of-bounds ring-out rather than death.
"What?! You have that much power, so why did you just throw him out?!"
"Stop ruining the mood!!"
Naturally, boos rained down, but Belgard paid them no mind and exited the arena.
But the next person was different.
"Ugh..."
Charbun, who was up next, couldn't handle it as casually as the other two.
Unlike Jane and Belgard, who possessed naturally thick skins that had only grown thicker from traveling with Roan, Charbun was timid to his core.
"Now!! Here comes a man who looks terrifyingly powerful! Are those tattoos covering his entire body a tally of his victims?! His massive build and overwhelming presence are top-tier! Today's rising star, the Muscle Tower!!"
Charbun didn't complain about his terrible nickname.
He didn't even have the mental capacity to process it.
Wearing only a helmet that left his tattooed, massive physique exposed, Charbun clenched his fists and stepped into the arena.
And it seemed his sheer presence exerted an immense pressure on his opponent.
"H-eek! I surrender!"
The match ended before they could even exchange a single blow.
"You crazy bastard!! If you're going to give up, just die!!"
"Is running away in fear what makes a gladiator?! You're not from the Empire, are you?!"
Unlike the relieved Charbun, the crowd's jeers erupted with furious intensity.
In a way, the atmosphere was growing quite lively.
Between the flaming club, the holy-powered fist, and the overwhelming intimidation, the arena had seen a wild variety of spectacles.
Thanks to these flashy displays, the spotlight naturally drifted away from Roan.
Moreover, since Roan held back his strength and merely traded a few casual blows before finishing his matches, the crowd's interest in him waned even further.
This is actually better. I can deliver a sudden shock at the very end to catch the Emperor's eye.
This, too, was part of the plan.
Since they were already highly skilled, they climbed the ranks without a hitch.
They easily bypassed the inevitable tournament trope of facing one's own allies, thanks to their pre-arranged strategy.
"Ah! The Iron-Fisted Preacher exits the stage! It seems he has completely run out of stamina!!"
"If you don't have any energy left, use your bare fists, you useless bastard!!"
"Unbelievable...! The Muscle Tower forfeits! Ah! Was his own power too immense for him to control?!"
"You didn't even show us anything before forfeiting!!"
"The Butcher of the Red Mace! Her movements slowed to a crawl, and she has finally declared her surrender! Her offensive power is terrifying, but it seems she couldn't bear the thought of getting hit!!"
"And you call yourself a gladiator?!"
Though the boos rained down, the plan was executed flawlessly.
Having played their parts perfectly, his companions stepped back, leaving Roan—who had ascended without a scratch—to stand on the final stage.
"Incredible... Due to the sudden forfeits of those formidable contenders, an unexpected dark horse has reached the finals!! Allow me to introduce... uh... the nameless contender of the day! Average Joe!!"
A truly humiliating nickname.
Yet, the recipient of the name seemed delighted, cheerfully waving his hands toward the spectator stands.
"Boo! You lucky bastard!"
"Get crushed and die!!"
"Iron Colossus! Get out here! We haven't met our blood quota for today yet!!"
The spectators were bloodthirsty, eager to see anyone's blood spilled.
Roan swept his gaze over them and shouted boldly.
"I'll show you! A real bloodbath!"
"...Huh?"
The sheer absurdity of his declaration caused the crowd's excitement to momentarily falter.
A declaration of his own impending doom.
It was too insane to ignore, bringing a brief silence over the arena.
But the silence lasted only a moment.
"T-that's right...!"
Soon, a spark of excitement ignited in the stands.
Serving as a catalyst,
"Yes! Show us!!"
"Hell yeah!! The other matches were boring as hell, so you'd better make up for it!!"
It poured oil onto the fading embers of the crowd's fervor.