Chapter 248 - Training Arc Results (1)

“I grow weary of these battles,” The Merchant spoke, his voice flowing throughout the VIP section like the finest wine. Speaking of wine, he swirled the glass of ‘oldest wine’ the venue had, in his gloved hands and took a sip. Yup, it tasted like shit. 

With a trick of the hand, suddenly the red wine inside turned a mystic purple. He took one sip, and sighed. ”Do a job by others, do a good job yourself.” Then, he turned his attention to the lower realm, at this ‘Tournament’ where he’d been promised an opportunity to invest in.

See, The Merchant was a being of the upper realms. No, that was insulting to his name. He was someone even the upper realms had to pause before messing with, simply because of his name.

[The Merchant]. That was what he did. He traded, invested, and reaped the rewards. And, he was damn good at his job. But lately, he had grown tired of the upper realms. You see one god fighting with the next over some petty bullshit, and you’d seen enough. 

Besides, the upper realms had grown stagnant in his eyes. Too proud of themselves to advance any further for the time being. 

The Lower Realms, on the other hand. . .

“Hm. . .” His monocle gleamed, but he stopped himself. “There goes my bad habit.” He shouldn’t be relying on his ‘antiques’ to spot talent. Oh, where was the fun in that?!

He had been promised talent in this Tournament, the best of the best, but most importantly, good investments. Talent over hard-work. And, reward over risk. That was his motto, his reason for being. 

As he observed the participants in the tournament, his sharp eyes glanced over the competitors, and yes while strong, they weren’t up to par. Then, he couldn’t help but glance at some of the mortals delving in. . .romance. Ugh, he hated that word. The Moon Goddess's actions, in particular, puzzled him, as he couldn't fathom why she would risk her divine status for the sake of a mortal, [Maiden] or not.

If one asked him, pursuing wealth and reward was far more. . .rewarding. 

The Merchant tapped his cane onto the ground. His mind, always sharp and calculating, focused on the real treasures that lay in front of him—the potential assets he could acquire through astute negotiations and lucrative deals. The tournament, to [The Merchant], was a marketplace of talent, a chance to secure valuable alliances and investments.

In the realm of gods and demons, power was currency, and [The Merchant] was well-versed in the language of exchange. His eyes scanned the competitors. 

“Sad.” He glanced at a man-snake hybrid. 

“Pitiful.” He didn’t even spare a thought at the rowdy beast-man. 

“Good, but not great.” One second was spared at the woman, dressed in all-black, most likely from the far east. 

That was all these competitors were to him. Products. 

As the cheers of the spectators echoed through the air, [The Merchant] smiled, a glint of excitement in his eyes. Oh well, the best of the best would reveal themselves sooner or later. 

The Tournament had been designed so that no-one could afford to hide their strength.

With a knowing smile, [The Merchant] leaned back in his seat, exuding an aura of quiet confidence. He knew that opportunities awaited him in this lower realm, and he relished the prospect of making his mark as a merchant in this new territory. 

***

Cheers grew louder suddenly. 

“Oh, my word.” The Merchant spotted a figure coming out of his room, and onto the tournament floor. 

He was. . .solitary. Yes, that was the best way to describe him. A flash of inspiration hit him. 

“Sage. . .” That was the figure’s moniker. One glance was all it took for the Merchant to peer into the Sage’s background, and yes, while the Sage had some ways in preventing being looked into, it was no match for the Merchant’s all-seeing gaze.

“Southern Islands. Ability to bend reality, although only at a somewhat lower stage for now,” The Merchant peered further into the Sage, which provoked a sharp gaze into his direction. 

The Merchant simply waved back at the ‘blind’ Sage who nodded at him out of respect. “How interesting.” 

“ALL HAIL THE BRUTAL KING!”

“ALL HAIL THE BRUTAL KING!”

“ALL HAIL THE BRUTAL KING!”

Moving along, next, there was the [Brutal King], a fearsome warrior from the Myriad Tribes.

But more importantly, The Merchant surprisingly found fearsome hidden talent within the big lump of hardened meat, holding his two dragon-fangs of a greatsword, wearing a Lion-King’s skull as a helmet, and a chimera’s hide as his cape. The Brutal King was an orc, but he was special. His skin wasn’t green, nor red, nor black which were already pretty rare variants of his race. 

No, his skin was pure white, adorned in black racial tattoos. But for someone nicknamed the [Brutal King], he was surprisingly calm, and fiercely talented. 

“Only a shame that he’s nowhere near uncovering it,” The Merchant commented, before turning his attention to the next gem of a talent. 

***

When The Silver Elf came, she came down the sky in a branch, filled with red leaves, a reminder of where she hailed from, of her home and empire. 

She was beautiful. The Merchant, someone devoid of love, admitted. He loved aesthetics however and she had it. But more impressive than her beauty, was her skill, her rare magic of the tongue. With enough mana at her disposal, she could literally bend the will of others, commanding them to obey her every word.

It was said that those who fell under [The Silver Elf]'s enchantment would become her loyal servants, bound by her command without question. Such an ability held immense potential for manipulation and control, and [The Merchant] could not help but be both fascinated and wary of its implications.

This extraordinary talent was one rarely seen, to the point only two other cases of this rare ability had been recorded, both in the lowest realm known as [Hell]. The very thought of such power being wielded by beings in the realm of gods and demons sent shivers down [The Merchant]'s spine. It was said that those who wielded the Tongue could sway the minds of even the most stubborn and powerful individuals, bending them to their will with mere whispers, which was why two other cases were in hell to begin with. After all, that's the only place you could go if you tried to sway the God-King to start a Millennium War. 

Another thing to look out for would be the little divine weapon that she was hiding. 

“So that’s where Misteletein went,” The Merchant laughed. “Oh, she’s going to be so mad when she finds out that it was her descendent that had it all along.”

As [The Silver Elf] gracefully maneuvered through the Tournament, [The Merchant] observed her every move with keen interest. If it weren’t for the next specimen, this elven woman would be the highest grade talent he’d seen in a while.

***

The skies turned red when he came. Even the audience stopped breathing for a moment as the Crimson Death descended from the sky in seven myriad-colored lightning, and thunder. Some of them even passed out despite the barrier protecting them from the participants of the Tournament. 

Out from the holy lightning came a dragonborn, from the Draconic Valley. She was fire. She was lightning. She was death, and she came in crimson - her hair, her scales, and her eyes. Even the Merchant had to pause for a moment to fully analyze the Crimson Death, but he couldn’t go far since a spell blocked him the moment he tried. 

“Ophis,” He sighed. “I know he’s your direct blood, but you can’t favour him like so.” When the infinity dragon god stared back at him, he gave up. “Alright then, have it your way.” 

The Merchant tapped the floor with his cane again. He sighed. These gods, and their favoritism. He looked down and saw that the Crimson Death was staring at him as well, and so, like he did with the Sage, he waved back.

There was no value in the [Merchant]'s knowledge of the Crimson Death, because anything he knew about the hatchling with the blood of the Dragon God, everyone else knew. That's just how strong she was. There were too many achievements to pick out but the most remarkable one would be how she'd eaten a god's flesh, an arm of the Metal God, and ever since, anything metal - she was completely immune to. And, she was still but a hatchling, at least  in draconian term.

If he had to be honest, if a dark horse didn't appear, most likely, the [Crimson Death] would be the one winning this whole Tournament, but in his experience, a dark horse always appeared. After all, that's how the current [God-King] came to be in the first place.

***

“Something’s missing.”

Although these contestants showed promise, [The Merchant]'s instincts told him that an even more intriguing seedling would emerge. Someone who could captivate him beyond measure, perhaps challenging his very understanding of the world. It was a rarity for [The Merchant] to be genuinely enthralled, considering the vast experiences he had amassed over the years. But he relished the possibility that this tournament might uncover such a prodigy.

Each competitor had their unique strengths and stories, but the one who would truly stand out, the one who would leave [The Merchant] on the edge of his seat, was yet to be revealed.

In the realm of gods and demons, where power and influence dictated destinies, [The Merchant] thrived. But for him, the ultimate currency was potential—the promise of greatness yet to be fully realized. He saw the seeds of greatness in these contestants, and he was ready to nurture and exploit them to their fullest potential.

The anticipation in [The Merchant]'s heart grew as the tournament progressed. He knew that beyond the cheers and clashes, a diamond in the rough awaited his discerning eye. And when that moment came, when he found that one seedling who could take the world by storm, [The Merchant] would be there, ready to offer his trade and elevate them to heights they had never dreamed possible. 

"Is this seat still available?"