Bro, I'm not an Undead!

A broad grin stretched on the bottom half of Guissepo’s face as he rose, surrounded by the particularly unusual, yet jovial uproar that was gushing from all sides, fiercely flung by the tens of millions of witnesses in their seats.

An imperceptible rhythm coiled between the filled seats, making men and women alike bizarrely rowdy, the level of zeal they carried towards the main event being several tiers greater than even how they had responded to the Premium Age Royale when it first started.

There was barely any negativity or doubt to go around, except perhaps with those seated at the very top.

Good.

“Welcome, ladiiiiiies and gentemeeeeen!” The Game Master’s voice bellowed like a storm in the ear (harmlessly of course), amplified by Venue’s many settings. “The main event has arrived! The defining moment that validates this extravagant game is here! Are your hearts ready?! Are your minds ready?!”

A cheer of approval was heard as some waved their hands, and some cupped them around their mouths, and screamed senselessly to the innocent air.

Good.

In the most distinguished seats, the Governor wore a grave face and took a deep breath. He felt no burning exhilaration in his gut like the commonfolk. Instead, a sense of urgency was on the verge of crippling his spine. His son next to him seemed to share the same unimpressed attitude, as if the common blood between them created a pulse that made their emotion one.

Alaris folded his arms with a stern face.

The words of warning he had received from Festos and…

Festos and….

Festos and…. hmmm.

‘Wasn’t there someone else… I could have sworn…’ Alaris thought with a frown before chalking this up to a mere hiccough in memory.

Anyway, Festos’ words rang in his mind. The warning he had given. Ever since then, looking at the enthusiastic man who was riding the large, mystic glass pane in the air gave him the sinking feeling that maybe, after all this, he would come to regret being satisfied with remaining stagnant power-wise.

‘Hmph.’

To hell with that. A Sword master had no business meddling with the likes of regret. It would only turn the edge of his blade blunt.

Ruhrees was leaning from the backrest of his seat, his eyes paying attention to what was happening before him. If need be, he had the means to protect all these people, though the sheer quantity of them could prove straining.

Maybe there truly was nothing to worry about, or the opposite could be true. In any case, he and Gillewart had agreed that while the City Guardian kept Genhuis City safe, he would look after things on this end, which was a tall task, but at least he could manage.

The Paladin Champion glanced at Rearren above, and found no traces of soaring emotion. He wore the same face as always.

Well, it wasn’t like this could convince Ruhrees to relax though.

Below all of these people, in the rows accommodating witnessing members from the Families, a mix of apprehension and excitement ran amok. The steering, imperceptible rhythm seemed to be able to claim some, and miss others, allowing them to feel what they had felt before coming to the Venue just now.

An example of the latter was two individuals seated side by side. One was a man dressed in a formal suit, his body inched close to the young girl at his side.

Unlike him who was drenched in beads of anxiety, the young girl was completely devoid of anything but a relaxed form of joy, the necklace dangling from her neck which she wouldn’t release from her small grip seemingly being the source of her carefree attitude.

Sensing the tense muscle on Daggs arm, Terese turned to him.

“Are you still worrying after what Father said, and what he gave you? Don’t you trust him?” she asked with a frown.

“N-no… that’s not…” Daggs stammered while turning on and off a nervous smile. Subconsciously, he fondled the ring on his middle finger.

Theurien had given them both high grade artefacts for protection, just in case, but unlike Terese, Daggs knew that even with these on, the Family Head didn’t feel too happy or reassured.

He had wanted to register as a witness for the Premium Age Royale too after Skullius explained the possibility of disaster, but unfortunately, ever since the cloud of uncertainty spawned with the increasing deaths in Genhuis, the Governor had forbidden the continued dissemination of the Control Seal.

While he may have failed to stop the Premium Age Royale, he wouldn’t allow more people to venture into it blindly. With his authority, the entire region had been dissolved of all signs of the EverSword House’s minions who distributed the seal close to a month and half ago, thus Theurien could not participate to make sure Terese was safe.

“Even if he was gone for a while, he’s the smartest man in the world! If he says you’re safe, then you’re safe!” Terese said to Daggs with a scowl.

The attendant had no words to this. No good would come from arguing with the little girl, so he nodded softly while apologising for being such a worrywart.

It was at this time that the witnesses noticed something strange (granted it had only been roughly a bit more than a minute).

The tent that encircled the base of the stadium, where all the rows of witness seats ended…

It was empty!

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This had never happened before. Usually contenders and witnesses were transported at the same time.

Before too many questions were asked, Guissepo put everyone’s hearts at ease.

“Pardon me, my extravagant audience. I see some of you have already begun to wonder where our contenders are. Fret not…” he said calmly.

With the snap of a finger, he manifested tens of massive, curved glass panes that settled in the air at different heights.

On their surfaces, incredibly vivid images began to show, the detail being extraordinarily clear to the witnesses who gasped and gaped.

“First, I should mention that the Royale will not take place on the extravagantly pristine white platform where the Preliminaries were held. No. We shall be using the wild, open space of this world,” Guissepo declared.

It suddenly became clear to the witnesses that the images they were seeing on the glass panes were from the environment outside the gigantic stadium they were in. Since they couldn’t leave, they would be watching what happened outside through these wide, magical objects, that, in another world would have had a modern youngster calling out a word that sounded like ‘fork.’

The excitement transcended palpable.

What made it all even better was the food that manifested, this time the quantity enough to call a buffet.

But most of the witnesses still looked to Guissepo.

“Now. The contenders.”

With the snap of his fingers, tens of silver lights flooded the white platform below Guissepo, and in the split second that followed, they were replaced by familiar figures, some of whom were a bit puzzled.

They stood at varying stretches of distance between each other, with some opting to further their range from certain individuals.

There were 58 contenders in total.

The First Preliminary Round which started with the full 234 contenders, had ended with 97 being disqualified (some killed), a total of 137 participants continuing to the Second Preliminary Round where 80 lost, leaving the aforementioned result.

There had been one contender left matchless in the Second Preliminary Round, but the Game Master had decided to grant him a special favour. He would be participating in the Royale still.

As the contenders looked around, some studying each other, Skullius narrowed his eyes and did the same with [Graceless Hunter].

He was donning the VergeRider armour, which took the form of a dark, thick, hooded jacket with dark grey steel bracers and a reddish-brown sleeveless leather over jacket. The Chains of Damnation were still wrapped around his waist, with tight fitting, rough pants and boots featuring below them, all with the matching lightless hue.

A sheathed, curved sword was at his side, its golden hilt sprung out confidently.

No one else could hear it, but a bloodthirsty murmur was coming from the sword, making Skullius frown.

The Hybrid Luman checked around and felt several familiar presences.

Tallo Rashen, the only contending Mage.

Vali Kinn, and her absurd quantities of mana.

Gabel, his glaive at the ready over his shoulder, and a small book in his hand.

Maxim Flatbed, looking suspiciously at everyone.

Darwel, of course.

Aurolio standing in his own corner, seemingly unconcerned, but with a shiver of cold coming from him.

There were a few more noteworthy participants, but Skullius hadn’t gotten close enough to them to perfectly recognise their mana.

Still, there were more than five threats to him in this contest.

With a sudden thought, Skullius activated Crude Vision and jerked his head up to the stands. His monochromatic sight reached a familiar spot where… three important people were missing from what was supposed to be a collective. Only two were presented, and he recognised their shapes.

‘Hope they will be safe,” Skullius said with a shallow smile. ‘At least S…’

Skullius frowned.

Who was he thinking about?

Stylla was missing obviously, and Setkh too but… who was the third?

Hmm.

A boisterous voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Good. They are all here!” Guissepo called.

“Now. Let me introduce the rules of the game, starting with the most extravagant of them all – in my opinion!”

Everyone paid attention. How was this Royale going to play out?

It wouldn’t be as simple as people in a large space killing each other, right?

Guissepo grinned, and looked at the topmost seats.

“Besides the contenders, there will be an additional participant. A valuable one. I call them, the Inhibiting Angel,” he said before snapping his finger, which caused another flash of silver light to shine amidst the contenders.

A young man had appeared.

It was Rias EverSword.