Published: August 2, 2025
Today, three chapters are posted simultaneously.
This is the third chapter.
～Side ？？？～
“It's a scam…”
After the first match ended, a man who had just returned indoors from the courtyard muttered in a dejected tone.
“…Hey, that guy…”
“He was supposed to have chosen slime… Could he have lost?”
A slave waiting beside the door noticed this and murmured among themselves.
The man seemed to avoid sharing details about the courtyard’s situation and was quickly ushered away by the staff.
(From his expression, it’s defeat. Even if he had won, something must have happened to make it seem otherwise. Slimes... I’ve never seen them in the arena, but if there are higher-tier types, they might be strong or troublesome.)
One of the slaves quietly observing stopped his thoughts right there. Ox Lord didn’t want to dwell on it.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t curious, but his opponent wasn’t a slime.
So, he limited unnecessary thoughts and focused on the boy he was about to fight.
(One noble. Two merchants. Another one looked like a merchant but carried an unusual aura. And among those adults with a certain dignity, the only child. Above all, he was the hardest to read among the five.)
Gladiators are often judged solely by their strength, but to truly rise to the top, skill alone isn’t enough. Gladiators rely on popularity, and their matches are betting targets. Therefore, popularity greatly affects the number of matches and rewards.
No matter how strong, uncharismatic gladiators remain second-rate. Those who combine strength and popularity earn the title of first-rate in the gladiator world.
Ox, who had climbed close to the top of this world, possessed one more power besides his swordsmanship, cultivated through years of training. Coincidentally, this was the same “eye for people” as Mr. Moulton, head of the slave trade who sells himself as merchandise.
Through countless matches, gaining popularity, and interacting with many nobles and merchants, he started sensing the personality of opponents from their footwork, sword swings, and every move.
This “sense” was acquired after relentlessly honing his swordsmanship.
It allowed him to perceive the opponent’s heart and body movements, raising his own technique to a new level.
(Over 30 years old, after sharpening this sense, my dual swordsmanship has reached level 5.)
Ox Lord’s greatest pride was his swordsmanship, unchanged even after losing one hand.
If asked what came next, he would mention this finely honed sense.
He was confident in this sense, but it failed to grasp Ryoma.
(Someone... clearly a child in appearance, but his presence blended with the adults around him. As if equal, like one of their own. And above all... strong. The foreign man beside him is probably skilled, but beyond that... No matter how much I think, I can’t figure it out. My job is to swing my sword and show my power. No matter who the opponent is, that’s all there is.)
One by one, slaves entered the courtyard and left disappointed.
Ox Lord tightened his grip on his pair of beloved swords sheathed at his sides, sharpening his focus.
When the ninth returned, he quietly stood and hung the swords at his waist.
“…Just to be sure, can I really use a real sword?”
“That’s what the head of the association said. They also got permission from the customer himself.”
“That’s not his hobby, is it?”
“I understand the doubt. Actually, the suggestion came from the head, but this time it’s true. After the previous match, we confirmed again with the opponent. He said it’s better to use a familiar weapon than an unfamiliar one.”
“…Then that’s fine. Thank you for the consideration.”
After a slight bow, Ox recalled his active days.
His heart focused only on the match, stamping firmly on the ground, he confidently stepped into the courtyard.
“Thank you for waiting.”
Apparently, he had been waiting since the previous match.
Standing at the starting position was Ryoma.
(As expected, this opponent isn’t straightforward.)