Chapter 34 – Moonlight Sculptor: My Dad Is a Legend

Weed sat in the waiting room of the arena, surrounded by all kinds of noise.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

The noise of blacksmiths forging weapons echoed nearby.

Sweaty gladiators were training hard with their weapons.

“Huff. You’ve gotten stronger.”

“I haven’t slacked off in training. I’m planning to go on a winning streak next.”

Some were indulging in pleasure with female slaves in the corners, while others lay wounded, dying.

“Contestants for the next match, move now! Falcoi, Magdal, Kyum.”

“Ready to fight!”

“I’m going.”

“I’ll return victorious.”

At the harsh voice of the arena manager, gladiators gathered for battle.

“Your opponents are rookies from the Aroidal arena. Smash them all and come back!”

“Yes, sir!”

The gladiators left, and the crowd’s brutal cheers erupted.

“Kill them!”

“Cut off the thieves’ heads from Aroidal!”

“Rip out their guts, pull them all the way out!”

The arena was a realm ruled by madness.

Even in the waiting room, the clashing of weapons and cries about killing echoed.

“It’s a loss for the Creta arena!”

“These idiots! I lost my money again.”

“That’s how it is in these countryside arenas.”

“You morons! How do you lose to an arena with only a 30% win rate?!”

“They should all die! Better off feeding them to the leopards!”

As the crowd’s harsh criticism rang out, the gladiators stumbled back in.

“Ughhh…”

“It hurts, it hurts so bad…”

“I lost my hand… My hand is gone…”

Groaning in pain, they crawled to the corners.

No one cared about the losers.

The arena manager’s rough voice passed on new orders.

“We won’t be able to use those guys anymore. If we send them out again, the audience will just be more disappointed.”

“What will you do with them?”

“Any place needing soldiers?”

“An expeditionary force was just formed. Hard to sell them off now.”

“Then we’ll have them fight 50 starving goblins in the next match.”

“Watching them get torn apart by goblins will be entertaining. Heh heh.”

The arena waiting room was filled with brutal, chilling conversations.

Weed, in his emotionally dried-up state, accepted it as just the way things were.

‘Hell difficulty, Stage 5. The mood isn’t bad.’

(Master, the Creta arena you belong to seems rather weak.)

‘It does seem that way.’

The girl who had filled her empty stomach with the money Weed gave her explained.

“Since you won today, you can rest. But tomorrow, you’ll have to fight another opponent.”

Her voice was a mixture of pity and guilt, probably because of the meal he bought her.

“Just one day off?”

“Yes. Since you weren’t seriously injured, you’ll likely have to fight again tomorrow.”

Weed had never imagined taking a day off.

He hadn’t rested properly since entering Roanoke.

(You’ve endured much, Master. I recommend at least a short rest. Even an hour of sleep would help your body recover.)

That was advice from the AI, Versa.

Weed was holding up thanks to stimulants, but dizziness and fatigue had been creeping in lately.

He figured 30 minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt.

“Can I sleep?”

“Huh? Y-Yes… If you want to. You can borrow a bed or a long wooden bench in the corner.”

“How much?”

“The bed is 4 crocks, the bench is 2 crocks.”

The prices were enough to completely erase any thoughts of sleep.

He had only earned 10 crocks from fighting orcs. The cost of living in the arena was exorbitant.

‘Even this might be intentional.’

(You are likely right, Master.)

Roanoke was a world gone mad.

The Hell difficulty stage was far removed from any sense of morality and fully recreated the brutal arenas of history.

“If you want, I’ll prepare a place to sleep.”

“No need.”

Even in his youthful days, Weed never had a girlfriend because he didn’t want to waste money on dates—this was luxury.

Weed sat on a narrow bench in the gladiators’ waiting room.

Knowing he had lost both eyes and his right arm gave him peace of mind.

Things were already at their worst, so what could be worse?

‘The world of Roanoke is vast. I didn’t expect them to replicate an ancient era just for Hell difficulty.’

(There were historical periods in Royal Road as well.)

‘I know. But Unicorn was a major corporation. Abyss isn’t that big.’

(Naturally, you can’t compare their scale to mine.)

Fifteen matches were held in the arena late into the night.

The waiting room was crowded with gladiators, managers, and soldiers.

“I suppose I can’t just wander around the arena?”

“You can only go to the waiting room, the break room, the training room, and the battle practice room.”

Stage 5 of Hell difficulty lasted 30 days.

Fighting different enemies and winning every day was no easy feat.

You also had to listen to the screams of injured or dying gladiators every day.

Even if a challenger had prior info on Stage 5, it was still a grueling ordeal.

Being blind only made the anxiety and fear worse.

‘Fighting every day sounds fine to me.’

To Weed, who saw enemies only as XP and loot, emotions like fear were just luxuries.

“Then I guess I can spend my time freely.”

“Yes.”

It was time to grind.

Weed pulled out a carving knife from his pouch.

A luxurious carving knife obtained through a treasure exchange ticket.

He wedged an emergency wooden block between his knees and picked up the knife with his left hand.

Scritch, scritch.

‘Since I can’t see, I have to rely on touch to carve.’

He started with figures he had carved countless times—rabbits, foxes, and the like.

But carving with his left hand while blind was extremely difficult.

One wrong move, and the sculpture would be ruined.

He needed to adapt to Rodain’s enhanced physical stats—30% stronger while blind.

‘This might be harder than Hell difficulty itself.’

Weed’s Roanoke Live Broadcast

Once Stage 5 began, viewers saw nothing on their screens.

―What the? I can’t see anything.

―The screen’s black!

―System glitch?

―This game is garbage.

―Can anyone see? Mine’s pitch black.

―It cut off right after Stage 5 started. So frustrating.

―Check the chat history. It says he lost both eyes and his right arm?

―So we’re seeing darkness because Weed can’t see?

―Seems like it.

Meanwhile, in Roanoke, countless things were happening.

Some fortresses were fending off massive monster waves.

Others were demon-hunting on burning lands, or clearing quests in lightning-swept rocky hills.

Still, viewers were obsessed with Weed.

He was the first to challenge Hell difficulty Stage 5, and had completely dominated Stages 1 through 4.

Everyone wanted to see if he would triumph again—or finally die.

―Blind and one-armed? That’s the worst luck ever.

―They might as well have told him to die.

―Any other game, and I’d send a protest truck to their headquarters.

―Even if Weed can’t see, why blackout the viewer screen too?

―Insane game design.

―Abyss is out of their minds.

―Worst game ever…

―Wait, everyone quiet.

―I hear something. Let’s at least listen.

They focused on the sounds coming through.

―The audience is cheering. He’s in the arena.

―Name’s Rosar now, I guess.

―Already going into battle? No time to adapt?

―LOL they’re sending him to fight five orcs 🤣🤣

―They must be joking.

―He’s blind! How’s he supposed to fight?

―Still… he’s walking toward the fight.

―Took the sword…

―Is this really happening? No backup plan?

―Any surprise events, maybe?

―No clue.

―If he dies like this, that’s so anticlimactic.

Then cheers erupted from the crowd again.

―Audience is screaming.

―Rosar! Rosar!

―Wait—did he win?

―Did Weed actually win?! Show us already!

―How did he do it…

Back in the waiting room, Weed talked with the girl.

―Man, the arena setting is intense.

―She looks really young.

―Probably starving. Poor thing…

―Seems like the story picks up from Stage 5.

―A gladiator and a little girl…

―Be careful. Weed might sell her off as a slave.

―Don’t talk nonsense.

―I can even hear her stomach growling.

―Whoa… he gave her money for food.

―Classic Weed.

―But saying she feels like a daughter… kinda risky these days 😂

―Wait—Weed giving money for food? That doesn’t sound like him…

Abyss Corporation’s Operations Team

They immediately identified the broadcast issue with Weed’s stream.

Over 5 million people were watching his live feed.

Although that was fewer than the tens of millions watching top-ranked players in China or Europe, it still put him in the top 30.

“This happened because he lost both eyes. The stream cut off since there’s no vision.”

“Can we fix it?”

“Yes. The dev team said we can switch to broadcast mode. It was already prepared.”

The Roanoke broadcast system had mostly relied on player POV, but now a more advanced system was ready.

This new live system included player stats, traits, achievement rates, regional monster data, growth rates, threat levels, and more.

A massive amount of data had been compiled for enhanced broadcasts.

“Weed’s return. But many players don’t understand Roanoke or Hell difficulty.”

“True,” said Yoo Dahae, agreeing.

Veterans of Royal Road were excited for Weed, and there were many younger fans too.

But his current popularity didn’t quite match his legendary fame.

“We need the TV stations to join in.”

Abyss didn’t want Roanoke to remain just an internet broadcast.

They wanted broader reach and real influence—TV programming was the answer.

Despite falling ratings, televised official programs still carried impact.

“Most station execs are from Weed’s era.”

“Right.”

People in their 30s to 50s made up the core of broadcasting.

Many VR broadcasting staff had gotten into the field because of Weed.

“Let’s reach out to the stations.”

“KMC Media’s director is Maylon, Weed’s old companion.”

“Exactly. They won’t say no to a show about Weed.”

TV stations were bleeding money and desperate for ratings.

They wouldn’t refuse this offer.

“He’s asleep.”

“Yeah, look at him.”

The screen was restored.

Weed sat in a chair, dozing off with a carving knife and a wooden block in hand.