Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

“Lord Sherlock! I’m very happy to see you at our event!”

The Gladiator Arena’s Boss, Poison Skin, who had a large belly, received Sherlock warmly inside his office.

“The tournament is about to begin. Your idea of the Sole Survivor Tournament is marvelous. The spectators are looking forward to it. More than 50% of the seats were sold. I haven’t seen that many spectators for a long time.”

“Old ways of business management are no longer useful in this new age.” Sherlock sat in the chair and smiled.

“You’re right!” Poison Skin took out a Uranium stick. He lit it up before putting it in his mouth. The Uranium stick sizzled as he said, “Lord Sherlock, we’ll see how your Gladiators perform.”

“Don’t worry, they’re fully prepared,” Sherlock nodded and said confidently.

…

In the dim resting room, the Mana-powered ceiling fan was spinning above a group of Goblins, Gnomes, and Houndhead Men.

The creatures had strange green symbols above their heads. They were different from normal Gladiators as they didn’t memorize dialogues or relax their muscles in preparation for their Gladiator Fights.

They gathered and chatted like there was no tomorrow.

“Selling items online. It’s a magical item that allows walking through walls, automatic weapon aiming, seeing of the world map, and even flying.”

“(Vulgarities), (more vulgarities)!”

“Why are you scolding?”

“I’ll scold anyone who is selling items online.”

“We’ll do it together and fight in a direct way. Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m a small, vulnerable, and gentle girl. Please don’t kill me later. I want to be the sole survivor.”

“D*mn, you look like a Gnome with the hoarse voice of a brute.”

“I’ll be the sole survivor on this auspicious night.”

…

Beside the chatting, many gamers were repeatedly squatting and standing, while other gamers were hopping around and climbing up and down.

Dragonborn didn’t chat or hop around. All of his equipment was being impounded, just like the rest of the gamers.

The coming Gladiator Fight would transport all of the Gladiators to a huge environment that would require an hour to walk a circle around. All of the Gladiators were unarmed. They only wore underpants. After being placed in an abandoned building or area, they had to look for equipment. Every 15 minutes, a ring of Mana mist would be released. The Mana mist would knock out the Gladiators, so they had to survive while the Mana mist kept shrinking.

The sole survivor would be the winner.

The gamers were exhilarated. This was the Dungeon version of PUBG Mobile!

How could they miss such exciting gameplay?

In order to have maximum effect, there were only 100 Gladiators in one session, with three sessions per day.

The limit was requested by Sherlock, as his Gladiators were limited in number.

The other reason was that the Northern Underground World Gladiator Arena had only recently started this new type of Gladiator Fight, and there was a month of preparation for the single arena. Including preparations and cleaning, three sessions a day was the infrastructure limit.

If conditions allowed, the Gladiator Arena would want to have 100 sessions per day!

Dragonborn was pretty lucky, he got a reply immediately after he registered.

His group challenge of the Instance Dungeon failed. They exceeded the time limit before they finished half of the Instance Dungeon. After a tedious day of challenging the Instance Dungeon, the Guild members decided to rest for a day before continuing. Hence Dragonborn took the opportunity to take part in the Gladiator Fight.

“Ah? Dragonborn?”

A Gnome shouted out his name.

Dragonborn turned his head and saw a Gnome with the words “BurningChestHair” above his head.

“ChestHair Bro.” Dragonborn stood up nervously and greeted him politely.

Dragonborn joined Arthur and his group in one of the Instance Dungeon challenges. BurningChestHair had to handle some personal affairs, so Dragonborn replaced him.

Dragonborn heard about the alias ChestHair Bro during the Instance Dungeon challenge. They also used the alias on the discussion forum.

“I didn’t expect you to join Arthur and our group. When you fought with Arthur, you were very impressive!” BurningChestHair smiled and said.

“It’s nothing. Arthur gave me a chance,” Dragonborn shook his head and said.

Though BurningChestHair wasn’t as famous as Arthur, his capability and wealth were on par with Arthur. It was unfortunate that he was shot to death by Sylvanas in the Dark Rider Tournament. Otherwise, he might have fought against Dragonborn or Arthur.

“If he hadn’t given you a chance, would you have lasted that few minutes? Haha, I’m not being sarcastic. You’re strong, but your equipment was inferior to Arthur.” BurningChestHair said, “I’m on par with Arthur. Let’s pit ourselves against each other.”

“Er, I may not survive to fight against you.” Dragonborn was dumbfounded.

BurningChestHair tapped Dragonborn’s shoulders and said, “Survive until the final round, then we can fight against each other. Buck up, I have high expectations of you!”

“All Gladiators, prepare to enter the arena.”

Outside the noisy room, a Gnome carrying a magical loudspeaker shouted at the gamers, “All Gladiators are to queue up and proceed to the Teleport Portal. Enter according to the number indicated. The counter starts at zero. Make haste.”

The Gnome thought of something and shouted, “No equipment allowed. The entrance of the Teleport Portal has a detector. All offenders will be disqualified from the tournament!”

The gamers queued up and entered the portal.

Dragonborn’s number was 66. He found the sixth portal and followed other gamers, walking through the arched door detector.

The prohibited items were weapons and equipment.

Dragonborn had no problems with that. The other gamers couldn’t possibly hide any equipment as they weren’t able to smuggle anything through the detectors.

When he was in front of the Teleport Portal, he saw a suspicious gamer with a swollen crotch at the eighth portal. Dragonborn was dumbstruck. How could a gamer control the size of the crotch during character creation?

The gamer at the eighth portal noticed Dragonborn. He smiled sheepishly, the ends of his lips stretching forty-five degrees up. He had the fearless expression of a martyr. Then he used his mouth shapes to say, “Don’t panic. It’s only a Bladder Bomb.”

Gosh, was a Bladder Bomb not considered a weapon?

Dragonborn was dumbfounded. He had no time to think as he was pushed into the portal by an NPC.