The Developer Reborn As Archmage

They made it to the colosseum around midday. The event was popular enough to close several inner-city streets. As it turned out, this fight was the first one in about three weeks. They had arrived at the right time by a stroke of luck. This explained why the girl was still there. There hadn’t been an auction since she was brought here.

Crowds filled the colosseum grounds, pouring in from every direction like ants. The place was unrecognizable compared to what they saw at night. If possible, it was even busier than the port. Sellers were peddling all kinds of things, from colorful snacks to intricate souvenirs and flags representing the fighters.

The tickets were surprisingly cheap for the apparent popularity of the venue. It only costs two silver per seat. The low ticket price was because of betting. It had been made official at the ticket booths.

Attendees had the chance to place their bets by purchasing red or blue stamps that went on tickets. Ticketmaster used a mechanical device that punched the stamps. Each stamp was priced at the minimum bet of fifty silver. The upper limit for betting was the number of dots that could fit on a ticket. It could easily be hundreds or thousands of gold if stamped on both sides.

Roden insisted that buying tickets was a waste of silver. He knew of a way to sneak in through the sewers and watch the fights for free. Neither Darya nor Seris had any plans to crawl through a sewer with their dresses.

The first fights had already started by the time they got into the colosseum.

“Trigger versus Korm! Last round!” the announcer yelled enthusiastically as they sat down in their upper-middle seats.

The fighters walked into the arena from either side. Darya didn’t know which name belonged to whom. One of them was a taller human with a limp. The other one was a half-breed, a beastkin mix of some sort. He had fur on the back of his shoulders and thighs. He smiled with a sharp set of teeth, dragging a severed chain behind his leg.

“Korm’s kicking it today as usual,” Roden said, crossing his arms.

“Which one is Korm?” Darya asked.

He scoffed as if she had asked a ridiculous question. “The hyena, of course. Korm the hyena. Everyone knows him.”

Ah, so that’s supposed to be a half hyena.

Korm charged at the other man with his arms outstretched. The clash shook the colosseum with fevered screams from the audience. Blood splattered on the soil as both fighters ripped into each other as they brawled on the ground. Everything was allowed. Darya had to look away when teeth were involved. She almost felt phantom pain when Korm ripped a chunk out of the other man’s thigh near the crotch.

“I don’t like these fights,” Seris remarked with a wince.

“The chained one, is he a slave fighter?” Darya asked curiously.

“All fighters are bought by the rich. Slaves or not,” Roden said, his eyes on the fight.

“Hm. I guess that makes sense,” Darya said with a nod. This was like the UFC without human rights. Buying a fighter would’ve meant sponsoring before slavery was brought back. Now it had to be much more literal. “Where can I get to the auction?” she asked.

“You need to talk to bossman Drakva. He’s down there,” Roden pointed at a small, decorated building at the edge of the arena, closely overseeing everything. “He’s not going to let just anyone in, though. Maybe you should tell him you’re a big-name pirate captain.”

“I have to show him I have money?” Darya looked at Seris. “I think he’ll let me in.”

“How?” Roden asked as Seris stared at her with a puzzled look. “I don’t see suitcases full of money on you.”

“I don’t need that. I have a pretty nice ring,” Darya said, rubbing her middle finger over the glove.

The fights continued in blocks of roughly twenty minutes with three rounds each. Two of the fights ended badly with fatal injuries. Darya was sure the opponent who fought Korm would end up retiring. His right leg was twisted the opposite way at the knee. That was harmless compared to the second fight, where one of the fighters used some kind of skill to punch a two-finger hole into their opponent’s skull like a gunshot, killing them on the spot.

Darya wanted to catch this colosseum boss at the right moment. It came when the announcement rang out for a half-hour break before the arena was ready for the much-anticipated last fight. They descended the staircase during the break, leaving Roden and his daughter in their seats.

“Whatever I do, you play along,” Darya said to Seris. She nodded back eagerly.

Two armored guards stood at the entrance with dual swords. They seemed to be from some sort of tribe. People stayed well away from the rope fence around the small building. They drew quite a few eyes as they hopped over the red rope at the end of the staircase.

The guards walked up to them urgently with their hands on their swords.

“I want to talk with your boss,” Darya said before they could do anything.

“Everyone does,” one guard said lazily. “He’s done seeing people for the day. Stay on the other side of the rope, lady. Final warning.”

“Tell him the princess of Karossa wants to be invited to his auction after the game.”

The guards stopped, looking at each other for a second.

“Huh?!” Seris exclaimed, but managed to hide it with a cough.

“You’re the princess of Karossa? Was this meeting arranged beforehand?”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Darya said indignantly. “Tell him I’m here to spend some money in his auction.”

The guards shrugged at each other and went back to knock on the door. They spoke with someone on the other side, and the door flung open.

A white-haired woman wearing a short red dress stared at them inquisitively. She wrote something down in a small notebook.

“Please leave your weapons with me,” she said to Seris, pointing at the wand.

“I have nothing on me,” Darya lied, raising her hands. The dagger she stole from the carriage was neatly strapped to her lower leg.

“Your word is good enough, princess,” the woman smiled pleasantly at her. “This is just tradition. Master Drakva considers open carrying of weapons disrespectful.”

Didn’t even bother checking if I’m who I claim to be. These people aren’t scared of intruders for some reason.

Seris looked at Darya before handing the wand over. Darya nodded at her. The red-dressed woman took it gracefully and tucked it into a shelf nearby.

“This way, princess. Turn to the right,” the woman gestured forward at the corridor.

Everything inside was red. The walls had red wallpaper, the ground had red tiles, and the ceiling had red and gold patterns.

Don’t think I need to ask his favorite color.

She passed through a red curtain into a large room with long sofas. Everything that could be made from a red material had been made in a shade of red.

Drakva sat in a big chair at the far end behind a cluttered table. He was hidden under a cloud of smoke.

The chair creaked as he leaned forward into the light. It was immediately obvious why he wasn’t scared of any intruders.

Drakva—-sitting down—was as tall as Darya standing. He was a grey-skinned half-breed orc. He seemed to be old, solely based on the size. According to Vainfall lore, an orc never stops growing in size.

His face was a mess of scars that looked as if he’d been whipped with barbed wire. He had two tusk-like lower teeth peeking up from his lower lip. One of them had been cracked. It was held together with a gold cast.

He stared at them with two glowing grey eyes as he smoked from a hookah. It was fair to say he was breathing from a hookah. The tube was firmly in his mouth, and he was leaning back with his hands behind his head. Darya had never seen anyone do it this casually without using their hands.

[Inspect]

Character: Drakva K’letoth

Role: Berserker Ascendant III

Level: 128

EXP: 4,259,797 (14%)

HP: 10,698

MAX HP: 10,698

MP: 6,396

MAX MP: 6,396

SP: 7,212

MAX SP: 8,394

STR: 3,250

DEX: 1,250

CON: 8,027

RES: 2,224

Darya did her best to hide her surprise. The orc was far higher level than she expected. If she remembered right and RLP hadn’t changed the leveling system, Berserker was a specialization role that had the minimum level requirement of 100 levels. Drakva was three thresholds higher than that with the third ascendant ranking.

“Princess of Karossa, eh?” Drakva spoke from a corner of his mouth as white smoke burst from his nostrils. “This is a special day if that’s true.”

“Why would it be a lie?” Darya asked, maintaining the same flat tone. She was a fair bit intimidated, but she had no intention of showing it.

“Karossa’s not our friend, you know. I thought you lied, but this is too ridiculous to be a lie. You could’ve told a more believable one,” Drakva grinned. “So it’s true, or you just got lucky with your lie.”

Drakva pulled the tube out of his mouth. It was dripping with saliva. He dropped it on the table with a wet plop. “If you’re here to kill me and you fail, you can be one of these after I’m done playing with you.”

He pointed over his shoulder at the wall behind him. It was packed with skulls from top to bottom. Darya saw Seris move a step behind her from the corner of her eye.

“Hm. That’s strange. Sounds like this happens to you very often,” Darya said, taking her glove off.