Chapter 37

Weed’s prize money increased to 30 Crook after his victory at the arena.

His personal bet had also paid off.

“Swordsman, we doubled our money!”

The girl beamed with joy, practically jumping.

She had experienced the thrill and excitement of gambling firsthand.

“We can eat well again today.”

She wasn’t someone who wanted much.
As long as she could eat plenty, she was genuinely happy.

Since Weed’s appearance fee had increased and his bet succeeded, he splurged and bought her a hearty meal for 3 Crook.

It was hard to believe this was the same legendary penny-pincher, but the currency of the Delphiria Empire would become worthless once the fifth level of Hellfire was cleared.

Of course, it still felt like a waste, but he believed it was fine as long as he won.

If he lost, he’d die anyway, so there was nothing to worry about.

“Let’s eat to our hearts’ content.”

“Yes, Swordsman.”

Weed picked up meat from the bowl with his hands along with the girl. He didn’t care much about cleanliness.

Having fully adapted to the arena, where life and death were always on the line, he felt a strange sense of freedom.

(Master, why not ask the girl her name?)

‘Her name? Why?’

Weed didn’t care much about people unless they were family.

The Hellfire difficulty mode.

He didn’t see much point in talking to NPCs who had lived hundreds of years ago.

(In Roanoke, the higher the difficulty, the more likely you are to meet special individuals.)

‘Special individuals?’

(People who had a deep influence on the flow of history, held high positions, or possessed unique talents. Or sometimes those who had little impact in their own lives might start new ones upon meeting you.)

The AI suspected that the girl—whose name he hadn’t even asked—might be an important figure or someone with exceptional talent.

‘Didn’t you say my name couldn’t be found in history?’

(Your current body, Rosar, isn’t in any historical records. It’s possible he was simply left out, but more likely he wasn’t significant.)

(Given that he’s missing both eyes and an arm, it’s highly probable he died in the arena.)

(But the girl guiding you could have had a notable impact on history.)

Though she was a slave wandering around the arena, there was a chance she was historically important.

Weed turned to the girl.

“What is your name?”

“Me?”

Her voice trembled slightly, maybe because it was such a personal question.

“I’m Britina.”

(Britina Hermon. According to historical texts, she was the femme fatale who shook the Delphiria Empire.)

‘A villainess?’

Weed was shocked by the word.

She seemed timid, shy, and sometimes even like a daughter to him.

The same girl who used to buy food with half a Crook and nibble at it all day turned into a villainess?

‘Maybe it’s just the same name?’

(She’s from the Delphiria Empire, and her age and origin match the records. Even the descriptions of her soft voice and bewitching beauty align.)

‘What did she do?’

(She went from slave to noble’s concubine. She used her beauty and political wits to seduce many noblemen, supported the Second Prince, and got involved in the succession war.)

‘Involvement in a succession war isn’t that bad.’

Politicians always fight over power.

A girl who once struggled to survive might desire power if she becomes successful.

(She led massacres in Fonard and Yutune. Historical texts say she slaughtered every living being in those regions—except the cats. She sacrificed many children to demonic rituals as living offerings.)

‘……’

(She bankrupted the imperial treasury and completely destroyed the Duchy of Benhasmer. We’re unsure if that part is linked to your character Rosar.)

‘Hmm.’

(She incited rebellion among the high-ranking nobles, tried to overthrow the imperial family, and failed. In the end, she burned the palace and died with the emperor.)

The girl Britina was far more monstrous than he ever imagined.

She shook the militarily powerful Delphiria Empire to its core.

Even after hearing all this, Weed wasn’t entirely convinced.

‘Isn’t it too early to be meeting someone this important on just the fifth level of Hellfire?’

(You formed a connection with her as soon as this stage began. She has yet to awaken to her destiny, and the challengers at this level aren’t likely to change history through her—yet.)

Weed’s character, Rosar.

The girl Britina had been by his side as his guide from the beginning.

The original Rosar might have found comfort in her and even formed a deep bond.

And so might the current Weed, and other challengers on this stage.

‘What if Britina dies now?’

(If she dies for any reason, the history of the Delphiria Empire will be altered.)

(However, Roanoke is a world already on the brink of destruction. Interference could hasten its fall through her death.)

Even if Britina disappeared, there was no guarantee that things would turn out better.

She might be remembered as a historical villainess, but nothing had happened yet.

Weed didn’t feel like she was a bad person.

‘Let’s wait and see.’

Rustle, rustle!

After finishing his meal, Weed began carving again—his daughter’s figurine in his hands.

‘I was just planning to get the rough shape down…’

The blessing of the goddess Sarasvati continued.

He couldn’t delay finishing this figurine of his daughter.

Without his sight, he sculpted by feel—through his hands and heart.

He traced the grain of the wood and recalled memories with his daughter.

‘I learned 100 different braiding techniques raising her.’

He had practiced late into the night so no one would say she was being raised by a clueless father.

He picked out her clothes, bought her dolls, took her on walks through the neighborhood.

‘She was so beautiful… Thank goodness she didn’t look like me.’

The Goddess Sarasvati, patron of art, music, and wisdom, praises your work.

Art stat +2

Soul Force +1

Unlike blacksmithing, sculpture relied less on skill level.

Even a single masterpiece was considered a legendary achievement.

‘Even without my eyes, I can still carve my daughter’s figurine without any problems.’

He had seen her grow up, washed her face, braided her hair.

By her mid-teens, she had become independent, going to school on her own.

But the memories of raising his little girl were deeply engraved in Weed’s heart.

‘I almost don’t want to finish this sculpture.’

Weed wanted to work on it longer—but it was done.

Ding!

Please name your sculpture.

For Weed, this wasn’t a hard decision.

“My Precious Daughter.”

Ding!

Masterpiece! A sculpture of your Precious Daughter has been completed.

A piece from a time long past.
Made by an unknown artist who never named himself.
Created without sight, under daily threat of death, using only one hand.

This sculpture will become a priceless treasure of the continent of Ils.

• Artistic Value: 13,900

• Effects on viewers (for 1 day):

  • +50% HP and MP regeneration

  • All stats +10

  • Luck +20

  • Endurance +10

  • +25% efficiency to defensive skills

  • +30% max HP

  • Immunity to charm magic

  • +20% swordsmanship damage

  • Grants the “Indomitable” trait

Gained 1,200 Fame

All stats +4 from artistic achievement

Charm +20

Gained 5 Legend Points for creating a historically renowned sculpture

Sculpting skill is now Beginner Lv. 9

• Can use more materials

• Durability of sculptures increases

• More precise detail possible

Dexterity skill level increased

• Bonus effects added to crafting and combat skills

A sculpture bringing incredible rewards.

Even in Royal Road, masterpieces like this couldn’t be created at will.

(I didn’t expect it to be a masterpiece!)

‘Neither did I.’

He had worried that being blind would ruin the sculpture—but perhaps it had allowed him to create something even more powerful.

“The star of Creta Arena! The blind gladiator who killed Osborne is entering!”

Weed fought in the arena every day.

Sometimes he pretended to struggle, barely winning, and at other times, he showed overwhelming strength to excite the crowd.

He adjusted his strength to ensure optimal betting outcomes.

“Not bad! If only he had eyes… or one more arm!”

Even the rough-voiced arena manager acknowledged him.

“That’s a fine sword, isn’t it?”

“Just an ordinary blade.”

“Maybe you can’t see it, but the edge is razor sharp!”

He even became acquainted with the shady blacksmith of the arena.

“He was once a trainee knight in the Biderun Order. Want to fight him?”

“Sure.”

“How about this ogre? It’s a bit injured but ferocious.”

“I’ll fight it.”

Since he never got badly injured, Weed could fight every day in the arena.

He was earning 200–300 Crook per match—but that only deepened his worries.

‘I don’t know when I’ll pay off my debt and leave this place.’

The rewards were sweet.

And with this Hellfire stage offering such freedom, the choices were harder.

Leaving early meant fewer growth opportunities. Staying too long felt risky.

‘Something dangerous is coming.’

(Pardon?)

‘My life has never been easy.’

Just like in Royal Road, things were never straightforward.

He suspected that staying too long in the arena would lead to some unfair disaster.

(Are you saying a powerful opponent is about to appear?)

‘Very likely. The more I win, the stronger the opponents get. That’s fine—if it’s just strength.’

With all his growth, he could defeat any enemy.

If things got tough, he could summon knights from Hellfire Stage 4, or as a last resort, use the Abyssal Mirror.

‘But who knows what else might happen?’

Just as Weed was thinking that…

The rough-voiced arena manager called out.

“Britina, congratulations. Baron Helman says he’s buying you.”

“What?”

“He saw you escorting Rosar to his match and liked you. Rejoice. You’re becoming a noble’s concubine. Isn’t that great news?”