Dwarf-Elf Racial Contest (4)
“Hey, sis.”
Ignoring whether the dwarf representative was shedding tears of emotion or not, the Hero sidled up beside me and whispered softly into my ear.
“Hm? What’s up?”
“The reward you mentioned seems like it’d be a glorious one on a racial level, but it might be tough to make it work as a prize for the individual victors.”
“Hm... Really?”
When I asked back, the Hero gave a small nod.
“Yes. They’re the ones who seized victory with their own hands, after all. I think there should be something just for them.”
“Hm... What a pain. Can’t they just grab whatever among themselves?”
“It’d be better with an official reward.”
At the Hero’s words, I let out a small sigh. He had a point, sure. There should be something special for the ones who’d fought tooth and nail to win.
So.
“Quit bawling and snap out of it.”
“Eek!”
I shoved the teary-eyed dwarf rep from behind. He toppled over like a turtle on its back.
“What kind of gift do you think would suit the reps of the winning race?”
“Y-Yes?”
“You guys won, right? So there should be a reward just for you.”
I’d been planning to gloss over it out of sheer laziness, but with the Hero chiming in like that, no helping it.
Hm.
“R-Reward...? We’ve got more than enough already. Plenty.”
Was he playing humble, or genuinely satisfied? The dwarf rep was insisting he needed nothing more. But that wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
“When I say I’ll give you something, hurry up and hash it out with the others. Whatever you pick will be the prize for victors ten years from now—no, even longer.”
I didn’t wanna poll every winner every time. Batch decisions were the way to go. Batch everything.
“R-Right, then. I’ll go talk to the others.”
“Oh, and heads-up: elves might take the crown next time, so if it’s something only helpful to you dwarves, I’ll veto it. Choose wisely. Feel free to loop in the elves too.”
I tossed in a bit of mischief about them playing nice with their fierce rivals from moments ago!
“Something lifespan-related wouldn’t be bad, but it wouldn’t mean much to you elves.”
“Youth’s not that different for us either. Or the dwarves, for that matter. Hm. If dwarves got younger, would those beards vanish? They’re not born with ‘em, right?”
“Th-That won’t do! These are my prized whiskers! How about... a nice, neutral blessing instead?”
“Hm. It’s a reward our descendants might inherit too, so we’ve gotta be extra careful.”
What the heck? Why were they chatting so chummily?
Shouldn’t the winner be lording it up, calling out the stubby little bearded runts, sparking a feud? Vowing revenge for next time with fireworks flying? Why were they buddy-buddy!
Why!
So that’s how the brewing war between elves and dwarves morphed into this showdown of racial pride.
“P.S., elves won last time. Hehe.”
“This year’s different! This year!!”
The dwarf girl spoke up, the elf girl piled on, and the dwarf girl yelled right back.
“You’re holding a racial contest even with the Demon King causing chaos? And dragging in other races too?”
“Especially because of the chaos.”
The lizardman with the deep, resonant voice standing nearby addressed the boy.
“Even if the Demon King’s thrown the world into turmoil, we’ve gotta show every race still has fight left in ‘em.”
“Hey. I get it. It’s all bravado.”
The silver-haired girl with horns chimed in, and the lizardman silently ruffled her hair before pulling a small candy from his pocket.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Okay.”
The silver-haired girl took the candy like it was routine, peeled off the wrapper, and popped it in her mouth.
“But if it started as an elf-dwarf war... how’d all these other races get roped in?”
“That’s ‘cause of the stakes in this city.”
The boy tilted his head at the dwarf girl’s words.
“Stakes?”
“Yup. Stakes. The right to rule this massive city—for a bit, anyway. An ancient city prepped by the gods themselves. A city of the arena, by the arena, for the arena. Betelgeuse.”
Betelgeuse. The arena city where blood flows freely, but no lives are lost.
In the distant ancient past, the Dragon Priestess and the Life Goddess—acting through the Hero—halted the elf-dwarf war and resolved their grudge through duels. They created an arena where no weapon swing or spell could inflict a fatal wound. Fierce clashes unfolded there, utterly lethal in spectacle but harmless in truth.
In an era starved for entertainment, those duels were no less than massive festivals. Crowds and coin poured in, naturally. Villages sprang up amid the throngs, blossomed into a city, and ultimately became this sprawling metropolis dotted with arenas.
No one knew who coined it, but the god-forged arena city came to be called Betelgeuse.
“Ruling a behemoth like this even temporarily? Race wouldn’t matter. But with gladiators, elves, and dwarves watching like hawks, no nation could snatch it outright... So, winner takes all!”
“Ten years between contests was too long! Human lifespans are short! Humans griped, so all the races’ bigwigs and the Life Church convened for days... and it became every four years. Honestly feels too frequent, though.”
“Lizardmen don’t care much for the city. Our annual martial tourney’s what matters. We joined for the thrill of clashing with other races’ strongest.”
“Beastkin were split on it, so humans strong-armed ‘em into one team. And so: elves, dwarves, lizardmen, humans and beastkin. Four teams, duking it out.”
“Last tourney, they nearly dragged me in too.”
The fox-eared girl gazed down at the bustling city and grumbled briefly.
“Humans. Sneaky.”
The horned girl muttered shortly at the sight.
“Whaddya gonna do? That’s humans for ya.”
“Yeah. Humans sneaky. Right?”
The elf and dwarf girls patted the pouty horned girl’s head while shooting the human boy dirty looks.
“What? Why’re you glaring at me like that?”
“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”
“Explain! C’mon, explain! Don’t just grumble to each other!”
“You wouldn’t get it anyway. Humans are sneaky.”
They had no idea back then. That they’d get swept up in the incident where the Glory Trophy—the contest’s ultimate prize—would vanish without a trace.
—Adventure log of a certain hero party.