Bloodbaths, Popcorn, and the Eruption Stone
The Founding Anniversary Gladiator Tournament prelims, a WWE-style staple, select up to 30 participants over three rounds in a single day.
But the explosion during the first prelim delayed the entire schedule by a day.
Every participant in Group 1 prelims except me passed out.
No life-threatening injuries, but they won't wake up.
With suspicions of terrorism, the organizers even considered canceling the event.
"Alright! The Founding Anniversary Gladiator Tournament prelims are back after a day's break! Let's get started!!"
——!!!
But as the announcer's voice and the crowd's cheers echoing through the Colosseum make clear, it's proceeding as normal.
'They managed not to cancel it after all.'
Crunch crunch—
As I pop kernels into my mouth one by one, the audience faces show no trace of worry.
If anything, they're more fired up than yesterday.
"It's Baldojang…."
"Whoa…."
"Should I ask her to take me as a disciple…?"
The people sitting around me are especially hyped.
Crunch crunch—
"…Where the hell did you even get that?"
"Huh? Gulp— They sell it at the restaurant."
"When did you buy it?"
"Saw it on the menu when I ordered meat yesterday and grabbed some."
Popcorn enthusiasts know you stock up whenever and wherever it appears.
"Can I have some too?"
"Sure."
No sooner than permission granted, Chaerin grabs a kernel from the tub and pops it in.
"100 credits."
"…."
Chaerin stops chewing and shoots me a cold stare.
But I'm unfazed.
"It's sneakily expensive."
"…How much?"
"1,000 credits."
"…."
I subtly avert my gaze from Chaerin's stare.
Munch.
* * *
The two rounds of prelims wrapped up faster than expected.
A couple of powerhouses per group turned the matches upside down.
The Spear Knight from Group 2 and the Dokkaebi Girl from Group 3.
The Spear Knight, clad in full plate armor, only engaged challengers who came at him directly.
His precise distance control forced selfish duels—a textbook display of spearmanship.
Unlike the knight, the Dokkaebi Girl sliced down everyone in sight.
Her mad cackle and trail of bloodstains made her look like a beast drunk on slaughter.
She single-handedly wiped out Group 3 except for five survivors, her blade following no rules.
Violence closer to brawling than martial arts.
But that unrefined style proved her skill was the real deal.
"…This is getting exciting."
My musing hangs in the restaurant air.
"Really? Gave me the chills."
"Fair enough."
A kid-like grin on a body drenched in blood was pretty creepy.
'But not bad.'
That kind of presence only comes with real power.
Even if it's because of me that Yamada couldn't advance, the finals won't be fun if the competition's weaker than him.
"Well, if Baldojang says so."
Chaerin downs her drink with those words.
"…This is actually pretty good."
"Told you."
This apple wine, 10,000 credits at the restaurant, boasts a flavor worth the price.
Could probably sell big in the real world too.
"But is it okay to spend like this?"
"Totally fine."
Alben Founding Anniversary Gladiator Tournament Prelims
🎁 Rewards: 100,000 credits, Ascension Potion x10, Unidentified Red Ore
My pockets are so stuffed they're about to burst, thanks to this.
Rising buzz has me down the rest of the apple wine in one go as I stand.
"Time to buy a weapon."
"Oh, yeah?"
Light chit-chat as Chaerin tips the last drops into her mouth.
What? When did she drink that much?
"Over here! Baldojang sensei!"
I wave instead of replying to the voice from inside the dining hall and head out.
Right now, I'm Alben's hottest wandering master.
Such cool aloofness suits me perfectly.
After three hours of steady grinding, about 10,000 viewers remain.
Plenty to log off, but they're sticking it out and hyping—truly awe-inspiring.
"…Maybe time to check it now?"
"Check what?"
"…Never mind."
"…."
Chaerin quietly closes the stream chat.
* * *
We finally arrive at a blacksmith workshop marked by a massive anvil and hammer on the sign.
Its grand scale and the resounding hammer strikes from within are impressive.
Opening the door reveals a dimly lit interior without a single candle.
The hot, slightly acrid air feels fresh rather than filthy, evoking an odd sense of novelty.
As I glance around the mysterious vibe, sparks fly with a clang— from the corner.
Tracing it leads to a dwarf hammering metal in front of the forge.
Is that intense focus in his sharp eyes a dwarf trait? Lost in such thoughts, I call out.
"Hey, old man."
Clang—
"Where's the katana?"
Clang—
"Know what this ore is?"
"…?"
Only when I shove the red ore against his cheek does the dwarf react, taking it and turning it over, eyes widening as he speaks.
"…Where'd you get this?"
"Poofed out of thin air."
"No jokes."
"For real."
It appeared out of nowhere when claiming the reward—no lie.
The dwarf eyes me suspiciously, sighs, and starts explaining.
"…If you don't wanna say, fine. Not like prying would help."
"So, what is it?"
"An Eruption Stone."
"Sounds like it erupts from volcanoes."
"Spot on. Pops out occasionally during major eruptions."
"Ooh… Expensive?"
"Sell it and you could buy a mansion easy. First time I've seen one myself."
"Ooh…."
I let out an involuntary gasp at his words.
"Make me a weapon with it."
"Nope."
"I got money."
"Not even for a fortune."
"Why?"
Clang—
Ignoring me to hammer away—kinda annoying.
What's up?
Dwarves usually pounce on rare ores with sparkling eyes, right?
A bit miffed, I rub the Eruption Stone on his beard and press.
"Why not?"
"…Eruption Stones aren't real ore—they're mana clumps shaped like ore. Mages handle that, not blacksmiths."
"Ah, got it."
Not ore to begin with.
"If you wanna use it, find the pointy-ears. They're magic pros—might take it off your hands."
Touched to hear "elves" straight from a dwarf, a sudden question hits me.
"Where are the elves?"
Beastkin are common on streets.
Dwarves are right here.
But no elves?
Clang—
"Magic nation Adonis. Northeast from here, keep going."
"None around?"
"Why would those snobs who look down on everywhere else as barbaric ever come out?"
Muttering about their arrogance while hammering, but not denying their magic prowess—elves must be legit.
"Katanas?"
"Second floor. Harps too."
"Ah…! Thanks."
He glances at Chaerin, gruffly gives the info, then resumes hammering.
Surprised he's not ignoring her, I head upstairs.
"He wasn't ignoring us…!"
"Looks that way."
Upstairs, spare katanas line up first thing, sorted by price.
I scan for the priciest.
"…200,000 credits."
Inventory check: about 150,000 left.
Hmm.
Hmmmmm.
Hmmmmmm.
"Chaerin."
"Yeah?"
"Got any money?"
"…."
Chaerin's gaze chills again.
"…How much?"
Averting eyes, I flash five fingers.
"Five thousand?"
"Ten."
"…Time to grind cash."
"Yup."
Following Chaerin out, a fist bonks my head.
Harsh.