Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Tournament
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"...What?"
The sounds of cadets around them clicking their tongues reached his ears. Even among the cadets other than Do-yoon, this minotaur's reputation was utterly poor.
Torn wrinkled his nose, the ring glinting as he scowled with a filthy expression.
It was always like this. Ever since the mana test, Torn had harbored ill feelings toward Do-yoon and persistently picked fights with him in the most childish way.
According to the other cadets, the one who had become a laughingstock to the instructors by asking what would happen if you broke the test plate on the day of the test was none other than Torn.
It seemed Do-yoon had stolen Torn's big moment of smashing the plate, and he was pissed about it. What a ridiculous grudge.
"Get lost. That female is mine."
And the fact that he was in heat for Sophie played a part too.
'He's persistent, I'll give him that...'
Do-yoon didn't dislike the Torn standing before him. As a former guild master in his previous life, he had always been a bit lenient toward talented individuals.
Torn wasn't quite on Sophie's level, but he was still considerable talent. Comparable to Debussy, perhaps? Worthy of being called a prodigy.
Sure, he lacked intelligence and patience in spades, but Do-yoon—who had traveled the continent and encountered countless races—didn't think that was such a bad thing.
The troll and werewolf races, which Do-yoon favored, had fiery tempers just like that.
'But it's guys like this who truly deserve the title of warrior.'
Live with them, and they seem dumb and impatient. But on the battlefield, no one is braver or tougher.
Do-yoon was certain the minotaur race was the same.
That said, the current situation was a huge problem, separate from all that.
Do-yoon glanced at Sophie's expression. She looked restless, anxious about the trouble she was causing him.
Probably only Do-yoon was pleased with Torn. Sophie must have been pretty stressed by it all.
As he pondered how to shake him off, a group of six or seven female cadets swarmed in, blocking the space between Torn and the two of them.
Torn furrowed his brow.
"Get lost."
"Starting up again, milk-cow boy?"
"I'm not a milk cow. I don't produce milk. Get lost."
"Go take a bath, milk-cow boy. You reek of spoiled milk."
"I'm not a milk cow. I have no interest in low-quality females like you. Get lost."
"Daring to lust after Sophie? Knowing your place? Stick to trees you can actually reach, milk-cow boy."
"I'm not a milk cow. You stupid females. Get lost right now."
The standoff between Torn and the female cadets began.
Violence was strictly forbidden within the Cradle. Thanks to that, Torn could do nothing but growl.
He had already caused a major incident and been disciplined for it. The instructors' show of force had been enough to drill the rules into even his thick skull.
Sophie took Do-yoon's hand and led him away from the scene. Torn, the idiot, got completely suckered by their taunts and couldn't spare Do-yoon a thought. He was like a bull fixated on the red cloth right in front of him.
"...I should thank them sometime. They always bail us out like this."
"Ah, I'll pass on the thanks for you! It was my fault to begin with anyway..."
The female cadets just now were Sophie's followers.
The Cradle was a place where people lived, so factions had naturally formed.
Over three weeks had passed, and the cadets had gotten a good grasp of the atmosphere here.
Performance in the Cradle heavily influenced life afterward—namely, guild scouting. Most cadets knew that.
As such, the centers of factions were always the top performers. Sophie, one of the handful of standout talents in this cohort, was at the heart of the Cradle's largest faction.
Do-yoon found that surprising.
'I was worried she'd get bullied by the other girls.'
Do-yoon remembered the jealous glares many female cadets had shot at Sophie during her debut at the mana test.
To him, Sophie seemed introverted and delicate. Half of his reason for escorting her was out of worry for her. But it turned out she was the Cradle's top power player.
Sophie's leadership was far more impressive than he'd imagined. Rumors said she commanded the cadets with a unique charisma—gentle yet coldly regal, like a queen.
'...Coldly regal? A queen?'
From Do-yoon's perspective, it was a rumor that made him tilt his head in confusion... but rumors were always exaggerated and distorted. He let it slide.
Of course, Torn was a fine talent too. But unlike Sophie, who embraced people with kindness and orchestrated them with charisma, Torn was just violent and dumb.
He was top-tier, destined for a good guild scout... but no one wanted to be around him.
Sophie grabbed Do-yoon's collar and led him along. His eyes drifted again to her lower body twitching right in front of him.
'...Just baseless rumors, right?'
Another rumor Do-yoon had heard: that Torn, who had groped her, had been knocked out cold by a single high kick from Sophie.
Do-yoon shook his head. No matter how angry she was, sweet and gentle Sophie would never do that.
To Do-yoon, in front of him, she was nothing but an endlessly modest woman.
+++
Four weeks had passed since the Cradle opened.
On the last day of the fourth week, the tournament evaluation began.
"The rules are simple. You'll be provided with your preferred weapon, head to the ring, and fight one-on-one. Killing is absolutely forbidden, as is continuing to fight after surrender or declaration of combat incapacity."
Even if limbs are severed or severe injuries occur, the waiting healer team will restore you perfectly.
It was the ideal environment to fully showcase one's abilities.
Cradle grades were displayed as rankings and made public. These were determined by aggregating scores from each class.
In other words, anything unrelated to classes wasn't scored.
But the cadets were interdimensional transplants with diverse talents from all walks of life. They hid many skills beyond what classes covered.
And those were hugely important for guild scouting too.
This tournament was a stage to flaunt those talents openly, reflect them in scores, and boost one's value.
"Four winners will be selected—one from each of the four groups—for a total of four. And for this tournament, elixirs have been prepared as prizes for the champions, so give it your all!"
The instructors murmured among themselves. Though they'd been informed in advance, it was still an unprecedented event.
That didn't mean there was any backlash. The fairness of awarding them publicly to winners, the transparency of them coming from the dean's personal funds. And besides, there were far bigger topics overshadowing this triviality.
Everyone was just curious about the dean's intentions.
'Elixirs, huh...'
Do-yoon fell into brief nostalgia.
It had been ages since he'd seen elixirs. They didn't exist on Earth, after all.
Enoch had tried every elixir out there in his previous life.
He had regressed 17 times. Each regression built his knowledge of the future, including locations, acquisition methods, and consumption methods for all sorts of elixirs.
No one on the entire continent had probably consumed as many as Enoch.
'Come to think of it, I wonder if this body's elixir absorption rate is different?'
Elixir absorption rates varied by constitution. It was treated as one domain of talent.
The body of a Divine Beast. This flesh showed exceptional talent across all fields. He had high expectations for its elixir absorption too.
Plus, elixirs were a delicacy in their own right. Do-yoon, who had roamed the continent indulging in fine foods, was looking forward to this one in every way.
"Alright then, let the tournament begin!"
The cadets looked around. And noticed something off.
"Why are there so many instructors? Isn't this basically everyone?"
"...This isn't just a grade evaluation, is it?"
Just like the mana test, a huge number of instructors were stationed around them.
Some cadets just thought, 'Oh, this tournament's a big deal like the mana test.' But many felt a different unease than back then.
The instructors' auras were far more serious than usual. Not just serious—some had fire in their eyes.
All of it was because of the Boss Monster Killer. In other words, Do-yoon.
'Week four is ending. If we don't find him here, we'll really fall behind in the recruitment race.'
'...Who the hell is it that's still not showing up?'
'Fuck... If we don't find him, my sponsorship's done for...'
The rumor of the Boss Monster Killer, which had started spreading from week two, was now known to every instructor in the Cradle.
In the Cradle's 70-year history, there had only been two such killers. The instructors—and guilds outside—were in an uproar over this treasure's emergence.
There were info pacts to block foreign guilds, fierce power struggles between major guilds, and pressure campaigns demanding info from the Cradle.
It had gotten so bad that the royals had to mediate to prevent guild wars.
The result was the current training ground atmosphere. Today, one of the rare chances to directly observe non-position cadets' fights, was thick with heavy tension, centered on instructors backed by major guilds.
Especially, attention focused on the swordsmanship class cadets.
'Rumor has it the boss monster's corpse was covered in sword wounds.'
One reason Do-yoon, a prime suspect for Boss Monster Killer, had slipped from the rumor mill's center.
Currently, only Sophie knew that Do-yoon's main weapon in the Cradle was the sword—and that he'd use it in this tournament.
Of course, Do-yoon—who had kept strictly to personal training—knew nothing of the currents swirling around him.
"Brackets will be drawn by lottery right here. Non-combat positions and supporters are excluded."
A massive tournament with about 220 out of 300 participating. The 110 prelim matches would end quicker than expected.
No proper rings, just one lead instructor per match, held simultaneously in simplified fashion. It had to be fast.
Plus, about 20 matches usually ended in forfeits. Some gave up on grades, others had huge skill gaps.
"First, before drawing brackets, we'll take hoped-for matchups."
Brackets were random by default, but mutual requests were allowed with consent.
It wasn't guaranteed. Risk of match-fixing meant some instructor approval was needed.
But it usually got approved. How could instructors spot fixing on the spot? From management, random was preferred to avoid rumors.
Still, approvals happened rarely.
This was ultimately a stage for talent shows. Big matches drawing interest often got the green light.
And right now, one such big match was brewing.
"Yeah, you there with your hand up, milk cow. Speak."
Torn smirked at the "milk cow" jab, his lip twitching amid the stares.
Yeah, the attention of the small fry and this sense of superiority. Privileges that punk parasite should have, but belonged to him.
"I nominate."
Under everyone's gaze, Torn—his groin slightly tented—pointed at Han Do-yoon.
"Come out, human."
Sensing he'd been dragged into something annoying, Do-yoon frowned.
"Let's see who's the superior male."
Torn snorted, twitching his golden nose ring.