Chapter 112

Silence hung over the three people seated around the betting table.

Edwin turned with wide eyes, and Julien just smiled and said:

"If I'd known this was coming, I would've saved up more of my allowance. You know?"

Edwin's expression softened. He rubbed under his nose and replied.

"Eh, this is plenty."

"Ahem."

The attendant across the table cleared his throat and spoke with grave sincerity.

"I did warn you. Once the bet's placed, there are absolutely no take-backs."

Edwin and Julien answered in unison.

"Yep!"

The moment their gold vanished beneath the counter, Mikhail's graph began to climb.

It was still nothing compared to the pile stacked under Verte's name—but the gap had narrowed.

Edwin folded his arms. Julien let the corners of his eyes crinkle. Each expressed satisfaction in his own way before turning away from the betting table.

The roar of the crowd flooded back into view. Edwin scratched his cheek with a troubled look.

"Hey, so how are we supposed to find seats now…?"

"Yip!"

The answer came before the worry could finish forming. A familiar bark drove straight into Edwin's ear.

Edwin whipped his head toward the sound.

Down on the floor, weaving between shuffling feet, Han was bouncing up and down and yapping at the two of them.

"Yip! Yip yip!"

It looked exactly like she was shouting over here. Edwin and Julien traded startled glances, then fell in behind her.

Han darted forward as if she'd been waiting for exactly this and led them toward the center of the hall.

"Snf."

Where Edwin and Julien arrived was a pair of empty seats with the best view of the screens.

Han hopped up onto one and wagged her tail. Beside her, Ul—cradled in the arms of an unfamiliar boy—let out a happy bark at the sight of Edwin and Julien. The boy holding Ul shifted his gaze toward them.

A beat of puzzled silence settled, but Julien broke it quickly and spoke to the boy.

"Hi there. We're Julien and Edwin, from Salvator. If you've got Han and Ul with you… does that mean you know Mikhail too?"

The boy startled, then mumbled under his breath.

"Oh, um… 'among other things'… could it be?"

He sprang to his feet, face flushed with excitement, and addressed Edwin and Julien.

"Hi! M-my name's Colin! Mikhail and I ended up becoming friends through, well, a whole thing—anyway, he asked me to hold these seats for you two! Just sit right here in the empty spots!"

Julien and Edwin blinked wide-eyed, then looked at each other and let out deflating sighs in tandem.

"This has Mikhail written all over it, doesn't it."

"You know what I've been thinking lately? Never get on Mikhail's bad side. Ever."

They shared a snicker, thanked Colin, and dropped into the open seats.

Han and Ul curled up on their chosen spots as well.

Everyone lifted their eyes to the screens overhead—projected from the edges of the hall by butterfly-shaped magic tools, each fitted with crystal orbs on their antennae. From the flat display panel behind them, gears clicking and grinding, a voice heralding a new phase began to ring out.

"And now, breaking news hot off the line! All participants have assembled on the plains. The first stage of Round One is about to begin. Everyone, eyes up here!"

The entrance to the southeastern plains where the campaign would take place.

Mikhail stepped down from the carriage and accepted the safety and emergency supplies handed out by a guide.

Impact-dampening magic tools. Hardening agent for field repairs on equipment. An intricately carved emergency evacuation return stone.

Mikhail checked each item, hung the impact-dampening tool around his neck, and moved toward the assembly point as directed.

As the full contingent of participants advanced in formation, the medical corps, commentary team, and surveillance squad fell in behind them.

"……"

Before long, the campaign participants gathered behind a thicket that served as the staging area.

Mikhail crouched behind the brush and studied the magical beasts spread across the plains.

Above the grassland—where the massive remains of a dragon jutted skyward like a landmark—hundreds of mini raptors and wyverns swarmed in a dense, writhing mass.

Tssszt.

Mikhail was narrowing his eyes and running through the first round's progression when the static cut out and the guide's voice rang crisp and clear through the thicket.

"The first stage is a free-for-all melee."

Mikhail nodded slowly, as though answering the voice laying out the rules.

"The shared objective for all campaign participants is to eliminate as many of the hundreds of mini raptors and wyverns deployed across the plains as possible within the time limit. Each beast felled is instantly converted into points and applied to your team's ranking."

The magic tool on Mikhail's wrist flickered.

"Additionally, the following restrictions apply to this stage. Given that the chaos of a melee may inadvertently endanger other combatants, wide-area attack magic and any form of uncontrollable, scattering offensive is strictly prohibited. Furthermore, any participant found to have deliberately attacked a fellow combatant will be immediately ejected from the active stage."

Mikhail swept his gaze over Ethan's group crouched around him and tightened his grip on the staff.

The guide's voice paused for a beat, then brightened into something almost festive as it signaled the start.

"That concludes the guidelines. Best of luck to every participant. Go!"

Bodies surged toward the plains from every direction.

Ethan, Lloyd, and the rest of the protagonist's party charged toward the clustered beasts. Mikhail, bringing up the rear, shouted at the two figures leading the pack.

"Ethan, Lloyd! Head for the rib section on the right side of the remains! That's our best position!"

Ethan and Lloyd shot him a glance, then adjusted course without argument.

The others looked mildly puzzled but followed the lead without objection.

Mikhail trailed at the back of the group, scanning the surroundings as he moved.

Round One, Stage One.

The prerequisite for a high score here was securing the most advantageous position for your party's composition.

Ethan's group consisted of five melee fighters and two mages.

That meant they needed a spot where raptor density was high enough for close-quarters combat to shine, while still allowing flexible responses to the mini wyverns circling overhead.

SKREEEE!

The moment they reached their target position, raptors locked onto them with murderous gleaming eyes, bared their fangs, and lunged.

CRUNCH!

Ethan and Lloyd dodged the snapping teeth and raking claws with ease, their swords swinging in relentless arcs. Every flash of silver carved a gleaming trail through the air and dropped raptors like scarecrows.

The pair's dominant performance sent morale soaring.

Dian bellowed a war cry and whirled his mace like a windmill. Hailey wove nimbly between raptors, driving mana-laced fists into them one after another.

GRRRRRR!

That was when the wyverns watching from above let out a grinding screech and dropped into a steep dive.

TAP!

Nisha's ribbon streamed behind her as she kicked off a nearby section of the remains and launched herself skyward—driving her rapier clean into the neck of a wyvern that had been swooping toward Hailey.

CRACK!

"Nisha! Nice one!"

Hailey cheered at the sight of Nisha mid-air. Nisha answered with nothing more than a bright smile.

All the while, the wet sounds of blades carving through beasts rang out in rapid succession, and Salvator's points climbed without pause.

[60pt]

[130pt]

[280pt]

"—Wow! They're growing at a terrifying pace! The momentum is absolutely unstoppable! This is incredible! At this rate, a clear first place doesn't seem far off at all!"

An ecstatic voice erupted from the commentary team in the rear.

Mikhail intercepted a wyvern overhead, then took a measured look around and steadied his breathing.

Things were going smoothly—almost too smoothly. But he couldn't let the rush of momentum tempt him into burning through mana recklessly.

This was only one stage out of six.

And if he factored in the massive anomaly that would emerge at the campaign's climax, conserving his strength was even more critical.

THWIP!

An arrow streaked in from outside his field of vision and dropped a wyvern Albin had been lining up.

"Wh—what?"

While Albin flinched in surprise, Mikhail tracked the arrow back to its source.

"……"

A fighter wearing the uniform of the Western Sand Mercenary Company—the largest contingent by headcount among all campaign participants—stood with a thin, sharp-edged smirk plastered across his face.

CLANG!

That single arrow turned the interference official.

Mercenaries twice Salvator's numbers pushed into the combat zone and began fouling attack trajectories left and right.

"…Tch."

The collisions weren't with beasts—they were with other participants, and the constant near-misses injected hesitation into every move Ethan's group made. Before long, they could no longer press the same razor-edged offense as before.

So that's how it is.

Mikhail narrowed his eyes and sized up what the mercenaries were really after.

The Sand Mercenary Company's score sat near the bottom of the rankings. Suppressing Salvator's momentum wouldn't push them into any meaningful standing, so simple rank competition was hard to buy as a motive. And they were far too loosely organized to be running a coordinated scheme with other factions.

Which meant their angle was more personal.

Something like… the spotlight.

Rattle the ones drawing all the attention—make them stumble and look shaken on camera—and steal that spotlight for themselves. Use it to catch the eye of influential observers. That had to be their play.

In this world, no-name mercenaries lived and died by the fleeting glances that landed on them and the contracts those glances produced.

CLANG!

One of the mercenaries cut down a raptor Dian had been closing in on, then threw his arm high in a showy display.

Mikhail confirmed the situation was unfolding exactly as he'd guessed, then shouted toward Ethan and Lloyd at the front.

"—Ethan! Lloyd! Forget about them and focus on our job! Push the pace! Faster than before!"

Ethan looked back in surprise, but recovered in an instant and launched forward in a powerful leap, following Mikhail's call.

Lloyd flashed a grin in Mikhail's direction and sprinted ahead just the same.

Their blades moved fiercer than before, cleaving through beasts in rapid succession.

[320pt]

[380pt]

[430pt]

Salvator's points didn't falter. Despite the interference, they kept climbing at a steady rate.

Eyes stopped lingering on the mercenaries' antics.

"Tch."

And just like that, it was the other side that wavered.

The mercenaries seemed to realize they wouldn't even break even at this rate. They pulled their numbers back and disengaged.

"……"

Before long, the area around the ribs was cleared of beasts and nuisances alike, leaving only Salvator's members standing.

Mikhail looked at his teammates—catching their breath and turning toward him—and let a grin pull at the corner of his mouth.

"—Let's move. Next target is the left shoulder blade."