When the card was shown in the air, a magic array appeared quickly, along with a faint glass barrier which showed up between Angor and Blackjack, blocking Angor’s further attacks.
[Winner: Baron Milk]
As the screen above the arena announced the end of the match, Blackjack’s profile card released a light beam in the air. It then flew toward Angor’s pocket and disappeared into Angor’s card.
Angor took out his card to check. A message showing his victory against Blackjack was now shown on the card. He had just earned three match points. Also, according to the number of matches and the victory rate of Blackjack, he also gained 150 merit points as a reward.
“Not bad. At least that’s enough to pay for my bolts,” said Angor as he put away his profile card and strolled off the stage.
Blackjack slumped on the ground. He had several bleeding holes on his body. Several workers of the tower came and carried him away.
When Arena 7 returned to being unoccupied, the audiences all exclaimed in wonder.
“But Lord Blackjack! He was going to snap the chick’s wings! How—”
“Chick?! He destroyed Blackjack! There’s no way he’s a chick.”
“Maybe it’s a level-3 apprentice hidden under that robe?”
Almost all the audiences were mere mortals, so they could only take blind guesses. The few apprentices among them, however, also whispered to each other.
“Blackjack lost? THE Blackjack?”
“Didn’t you see Baron Milk used his alchemy weapon? A long-range weapon at that!”
“Of course I did! Damn it! I want one!”
“Let’s wait when the kid got no one around and take his stuff!”
“We don’t know who he is. A level-1 apprentice with a powerful alchemy weapon means someone really strong is supporting him. Let’s not look for trouble.”
“Coward!”
As Angor returned to the backstage waiting room, all the other participants now looked at him with completely different emotions. Fear, astonishment… and mostly, greed.
Angor walked to the lottery box again. The middle-aged woman watched his match too. She glanced at the boy’s robe-covered wrist and revealed an inconspicuous smile.
“Mister Baron Milk, do you want to keep going?”
Angor nodded. He was stressed because it was his very first battle, and he exhausted most of his mana by casting seven spells in one go. Still, a little meditation should keep him going for several more matches. It was unlikely that he would keep running into opponents like Blackjack.
“Alright. Draw a lottery please.”
Angor reached a hand into the box — adeptly this time — and took out a ball using his instinct.
035325.
The woman took over the ball. Soon, a line appeared on the screen in front of her: [Baron Milk VS Ashen Warrior. In 30 minutes. Sky Tower Level 1, Arena 6.]
…
While trying to ignore the whispers of discussion among people, Angor moved to a far corner and closed his eyes to meditate. He was still displaying his “leave me alone” temperament.
He had not even meditated for long when he heard similar footsteps again.
“The fate guided YOU, not ME,” said Angor without opening his eyes.
“Hey, Milk, I saw your fight. You’re so good!” White Bear still sounded joyful as ever.
“Don’t call me ‘Milk’.”
“Baron, was that an alchemy weapon? Nice! Did you get it from Master Prome?”
“What’s it to do with you?” Angor opened his eyes this time and inspected the man in front of him from under his hood.
The man was still in his white bear costume and was wearing the same smiling face. However, he was holding a short, black-painted magic cane this time.
Angor sighed in his mind. Why did this guy keep buzzing him?
“I’m just curious. In Brute Cavern, there are only a handful of people who own alchemy weapons, and people have already squeezed every last bit of information out of them. But your weapon only showed up for the first time. It didn’t look like any of theirs.”
“So what?” Angor grew impatient. “Again, what do you want from me?”
White Bear kept smiling. “Our fate intertwined, so I’m destined to meet you again.”
“You crept up on me yourself. Don’t give me that fate nonsense.” Angor waved a hand. “If you’re not going to talk, just leave me be. I have matches coming up. I have to rest.”
Hearing these, White Bear took his cane and walked away, still smiling.
When the figure of White Bear finally disappeared into the crowd, Angor frowned and wondered what was the deal with that man.
After meditating for about ten minutes, Angor heard footsteps again. They sounded heavy this time when compared to White Bear’s footsteps.
Angor looked up in frustration and realized it was Blackjack.
The man was heavily bandaged up. Neither his top-hat nor his monocle was there. Angor could clearly see his short, grayish-green hair and handsome face this time.
“You—” Angor opened his mouth and immediately realized he was “Baron Milk” for the moment, so he only let out a snort in the end.
He waited for Blackjack to speak first.
“I lost the match and I admit it. But I warn you! Don’t you tell my secret to anyone, or I’ll make sure to mess up your life, even if it costs mine!”
The words sounded firm and determined. But Angor still did not know what Blackjack meant. Secret? Was it about Blackjack’s dressing style which he copied from Sunders?
Angor checked Blackjack carefully. Without his hat, the short gray-green hair looked almost exactly the same with Sunders’ own hair. Also, Blackjack’s face kinda looked familiar.
“Don’t tell me he’s the professor’s bastard son?” Angor quickly thought about a touching love story in which a bastard son sought to be accepted by his stern father by mimicking his father’s clothing and character. However, the merciless father completely disregarded his effort, which caused the son to develop a twisted mindset and found joy in torturing newbies…
After warning Angor, Blackjack limped away on his walking cane.
“Sigh… poor son.” Angor looked at Blackjack’s pathetic figure and concluded the story he just made up.