Chapter 40: Arena (3)
A few hours ago.
The arena manager, Don Quixote, doubted his ears.
“What? Who’s coming?”
“Ah, the second son of the Alkart Family… has arrived.”
Cold sweat trickled down Don Quixote’s forehead.
“Is that true?”
“Yes, yes! The captain of the guard confirmed it!”
“Shit.”
The name Alkart was as famous in the Demesia Kingdom as any could be.
The ‘Auction Hall’ and ‘Gambling Den’ operating within the arena were inspired by none other than the ‘Black Market’ run by the Alkart Family in the underworld.
They were still amateurs compared to the Alkarte operation, whether in terms of scale or the astronomical amounts of money involved.
The issue was that the young master had come in person.
It would take at least a week for someone from the empire to reach here. For such an esteemed figure to make this journey was far too great a distance. If unlucky, it might even take longer than a week.
Crossing the desert, which was almost akin to madness, was no easy feat.
Yet, the information came directly from the captain of the guard, lending it a high degree of credibility.
Even the appearance matched perfectly—black hair, golden eyes, an aristocratic demeanor, and sharp features untainted by any flaw.
A chilling aura so cold it made one feel the chill even in the desert. Anyone could see it—a perfect replica of the Duke of Alkart himself.
An air impossible to mimic unless one shared blood with the family.
“Please, look at this.”
A subordinate handed over some documents. Don Quixote swallowed hard and examined them.
Hours earlier, the second son of the Alkart Duke had visited a restaurant. It was a place where sandstorms often entered through open windows, causing complaints.
The owner, a former warrior, had never voiced direct complaints. However, after the visit from the second son of the Alkart Family:
The owner was found covered in blood, repairing each window one by one. As a result, the walls were smeared with blood—it looked like a murder scene.
Don Quixote gulped. To reduce a man to such a state just because he couldn’t stop the sand—that wasn’t something done face-to-face but rather afterward, without anyone knowing.
It was cruel. No wonder the Alkart Family had earned its infamous reputation in the underworld.
“If it’s the second son, then it must be Evan Alkart.”
“…Yes, most likely.”
If it truly was the renowned ‘Evan Alkart’…
“This is really bad.”
Don Quixote pulled out a cigarette from his coat and lit it, though he intended to quit. He had just realized Death itself stood before him.
The grim reaper known for severing the wrists of dishonored warriors—was this superstition actually true? Had Evan approached him under that guise?
“What should we do?”
“What can we do?! We must approach and speak to him.”
When faced with death, there are two choices for a warrior: confront it bravely or cower humbly.
Don Quixote, a once brave warrior, decided on the latter. Too powerful, and there was something recent that weighed on his conscience.
‘Could they have noticed?’
A group of heretics promising immense power through human sacrifices. Through a deal, they had been hidden away in the arena.
This was not the only issue. Secret dealings were ongoing with the black market, unbeknownst to its owner, the duke.
A deal struck with the black market’s second-in-command that needed to remain hidden from the duke.
Everything had been going smoothly except for one thing—the lack of recent communication.
‘If only he hadn’t shown up…’
Just minutes ago, Evan personally visited the arena, accompanied by two warriors who seemed to be acquaintances.
Among those brought along was a presumed slave, another whose identity was unclear, but even one identity alone was enough to label them a “big shot.”
The Seer of the Night Sky—a mysterious astrologer reputed to see human destinies, an enigmatic figure indeed.
A subject of interest to Don Quixote, now more merchant than warrior. Perhaps she could read fortunes if asked nicely?
…Despite being Evan’s companion, which was somewhat unsettling.
‘There’s nothing else I can do.’
Only one option remained—deploy the secret weapon. Prove strength? That was talk for outdated old men.
Money. With money, anything could be solved.
Who in this continent didn’t love money?
If persuasion failed, check if there was enough money.
No warrior had ever resisted the allure of gold; this world revolved around these small coins.
‘I must meet him directly.’
“Sir, are you sure?”
The subordinate’s face brightened. Don Quixote Machete, formerly ranked second among warriors, stepping in personally—there was no better reassurance.
‘Somehow, I must resolve this.’
Evan Alkart. Whether to coax, deceive, or… eliminate him.
An awkward combination of words. Don Quixote absentmindedly touched the axe at his waist, its expensive wooden handle gleaming.
And a few hours later, after thorough preparation, Don Quixote visited him, unknowingly sweating profusely.
Two gazes met, devoid of any emotion. The icy golden eyes were a perfect reflection of the Duke of Alkart.
‘…He’s monstrous.’
Don Quixote had no choice but to admit it.
‘Nothing… Nothing can be read from him.’
He was a true heavyweight, a monster.
“Welcome, my lord!”
A fawning impression was Evan’s first thought upon seeing Don Quixote.
“The noble bloodline of Duke Alkart blesses me today!”
“…Pleased to meet you. I am Evan Alkart.”
“My name is Don Quixote Machete!”
Don Quixote enthusiastically grabbed Evan’s hand extended in greeting, careful not to apply any force, handling it as if it were a precious gem.
“Hmm!”
Lapis, who had been observing closely, nodded slightly, and Evan managed to suppress his discomfort.
‘Why is he like this?’
Don Quixote Machete, the owner and manager of the arena, once a warrior ranked second, boasted a high level of pride. He acted arrogantly every time he encountered players.
Players often wished to punch his annoying beard. Ironically, his fate would eventually end with him being torn apart by the Duke of Alkart for crimes of impersonation and sacrilege.
Still, why was he acting so submissive now?
“What brings you here?”
“Ah! Noticing that a noble visitor had paid full price, I’ve come to offer you a better seat!”
“Isn’t there a VIP section higher than what we have?”
Ah, I don’t want to move.
“We haven’t guided you properly.”
Misinterpreting Evan’s tone, Don Quixote reacted excessively.
“That… It’s my fault for not managing my subordinates well! They will surely be punished according to our rules!”
“…By rules, you mean?”
“Anyone incapable of doing their job forfeits the right to live. Seppuku is required.”
“…”
Ugh! Evan involuntarily frowned.
Just imagining it made his stomach churn. Despite being a man among men, Evan still felt uneasy about it.
Don Quixote’s eyes widened slightly. …Had he guessed?
“I simply paid the appropriate fee.”
Evan maintained a calm facade.
“A better seat is fine.”
“Ah, ah!”
Don Quixote bowed deeply, realizing belatedly.
“Forgive me, I did not understand your grand purpose! My apologies!”
“…It’s alright. Let’s avoid actions that lower one’s dignity.”
“Understood. There will be no seppuku.”
Phew! Don Quixote sighed in relief.
Evan suppressed his own sigh of relief.
Don Quixote kept glancing at Evan with sparkling eyes, trying to gauge his thoughts.
Ah, how bothersome. Could he just ask him to leave?
“Do you have any other business?”
“May I inquire about the reason for your visit to the arena today?”
Don Quixote asked politely.
“Are you perhaps interested in the ‘Auction Hall’?”
“…Auction Hall?”
“If you wish, I can immediately enter you into the bidding. No, no! I’ll provide whatever you desire directly! Or…”
Don Quixote leaned closer and whispered softly.
“Are you interested in ‘rare items’ unavailable in the Auction Hall?”
“…”
Rare items? It felt suspicious, too fishy.
Just as Evan was about to decline…
!!
The seer waved her hands dramatically, pointing at Don Quixote and the floor.
Perhaps indicating it was necessary to proceed?
Reluctantly, Evan agreed.
“…Yes, I’m interested.”
“!”
Don Quixote’s face lit up with excitement.
“Then let’s go immediately!”
“Before that, I’ll participate in the current auction and then follow.”
“Of course!”
Evan placed bids on the top prize, a beginner alchemy book, and a mixed elixir.
Hmm. Let me check my pocket money…
‘This amount should suffice.’
Placing a reasonable bid, Evan glanced outside one last time before leaving.
Whooaaaa!
Fighter No. 5 roared triumphantly, raising both arms after defeating an opponent.
‘Not quite superstar material yet.’
Sand falling off his arms revealed scattered wounds, indicating the enemy had been strong.
“Victory! Dead Bear!”
“Woooooo!”
No. 5 squatted down and swept up sand from the ground, regenerating his body.
Impressive effect.
[Sand Golem Heart]. Properly refined, Fighter No. 5’s body transformed like sand.
Immune to physical attacks. Simply adding sand sufficed for repairs.
Seems trustworthy enough.
‘Felix is…’
He’ll manage fine, right? Glancing briefly at Felix waiting across the way, Evan turned back with a nod of encouragement.
Receiving the gaze, Felix took a deep breath.
“…I’m still not worth looking at, am I?”
Indeed. Bringing such a powerful golem makes that basic, doesn’t it?
Especially since it was recently remodeled, either prepared beforehand or improvised on the spot.
Regardless, it was undeniably impressive.
“My current goal is you.”
Fighter No. 5 acknowledged Felix’s challenge with a wave of his hand.
“…Do all golems these days have personalities?”
Following Evan, Isis muttered under her breath. What kind of golem was this free-spirited? Answers eluded her…
Colosseum.
A building with a long history.
All Evan knew was that it would be destroyed by the duke before players could act.
Surprisingly, the basement was deep.
‘Chill… It’s cold.’
As Evan slightly adjusted his coat, Lapis quickly knitted and offered him a scarf.
“…Thank you.”
“Hehe, you’re welcome.”
Lapis smiled contentedly, patting Evan’s head before focusing ahead.
Don Quixote led the way. Though only his back was visible, something felt off. Was he planning to trap them?
‘Could he be secretly harboring a group of heretics?’
Perhaps a trap? Ah, maybe bringing Fighter No. 5 would have been better.
Still, the seer was present.
The seer was stronger than expected. Sacrificing oneself required strength.
With a single gesture, she could overturn this space.
Isis was also there. Though not a fighter, she could probably create protective barriers.
“Here we are!”
Don Quixote stopped in front of a sturdy closed door, scanning the area before quietly asking Evan.
“Young master, I know you’re an alchemist—is that correct?”
“Yes, it is.”
Why bring up alchemy now? Evan eyed him suspiciously.
Don Quixote gave a sinister smile.
“Hehe. Then you’ll surely appreciate this.”
Bang!
He swung the door wide open.
“Behold! Our arena’s secret [Merchandise]—the ‘materials’ you need for your desired ‘research’!”
A vast chamber filled with iron cages. Inside, monsters rattled their enclosures violently.
‘Oh, this is insane.’
Keeping monsters underground? Isn’t that crazy?
“…”
Shiver!
The seer’s hands trembled. Was she about to faint?
Reflexively, Evan grabbed her hand, attempting to comfort her despite her evident strength.
Me? I’m a man!
…Swoosh.
The seer’s dark eyes locked onto Evan’s, devoid of any whites.
“…”
Goosebumps erupted across his skin. She looked less like a seer and more like a witch.
