Chapter 483: Tournament and the Brass Fortress

Chapter 483: Tournament and the Brass Fortress

"Boom!"

A pillar of fire shot into the sky, flames raging as the player on the battlefield was reduced to ashes.

A woman with golden vertical pupils and long dragon horns waved her hand, and the fire instantly vanished.

She turned and slightly bowed, acknowledging the audience.

The commentator’s voice rang with excitement. "Another exhilarating match! A crushing victory!"

"Let’s congratulate Summer Night Autumn Rain on winning this match!"

The audience erupted in cheers, and fervent fans waved light signs energetically.

"Autumn Rain, my wife!"

"I love her so much!"

"Autumn Rain is amazing! Beautiful and fierce! Totally in love!"

"Of course she’s amazing—she’s my wife."

"Summer Night Autumn Rain is your wife? I call dibs first! Someone wake this guy up."

"Damn it! She’s obviously my wife!"

"Dear viewers and contestants, welcome everyone."

"Today marks the third day of the preliminaries, and as we can see, excitement remains high. This round’s contestants are..."

The commentators’ voices echoed through the arena.

The preliminaries were in full swing. Most top-tier star players remained undefeated, while dark horses emerged from the crowd.

Many iconic moments had already been born:

Rainy Night City summoning the "Undead Trinity" to gang up on an opponent, Born Battle Maniac cleaving a max-level Holy Paladin in half—shield and all—Charlotte’s textbook-perfect spell counter...

However, with nearly 100,000 participants and 154 arenas running twelve days of matches,

each arena had to host an average of fifty matches per day.

Those who had already secured their spot in the main tournament were busy preparing. Information on professional players was being sold on the black market for exorbitant prices.

One of the most anticipated "professional players," Mantou, was troubled about his weapon.

As a three-match undefeated contestant, he had already qualified, with no need to worry about elimination rounds.

But in his second match yesterday, he had been hit by a "suicidal" assault from a Machinist player.

That opponent had rushed him with a pack full of electromagnetic bombs, nearly blowing him out of the sky. Fortunately, Noodles reacted quickly, flipping midair and escaping the explosion’s range.

Though he was unharmed, his trusty rare-quality "Crimson Scale Standard Lance" had been destroyed in the fight, making his heart ache.

So, he sought out a player from the Mechanist Cult to buy new equipment.

"You want to buy a melee weapon?"

Battlefield Wheelchair Man sounded baffled.

"Wouldn’t a semi-automatic rifle be better? I’ve got an M1 Garand replica, an elemental lightning launcher..."

"No, you don’t understand the romance of a lance charge!"

Battlefield Wheelchair Man sighed in disappointment but continued, "If it’s melee weapons you want, the Mechanist Cult doesn’t produce the highest quality."

"Actually, if you’re after top-tier melee weapons, I’d recommend the Brass Fortress."

"The fire dwarves there forge the best melee weapons—even legendary-quality artifacts have come from them."

"Oh?"

Hearing the word "legendary," Mantou’s eyes gleamed—he’d never pulled a decent item from a loot box in his life.

"Where’s this Brass Fortress you’re talking about?"

"The Elemental Plane of Fire."

—One day later—

Elemental Plane of Fire, Brass Fortress, outside the Empire Affairs Office.

"So many people."

Holding his freshly issued Fire Plane transit permit, Mantou looked at the bustling crowds and busy fire dwarves, grinning.

In the city’s center, a massive statue of the Dwarven God stood tall and imposing. The brass houses were intricately crafted, and the air was filled with the clang of smithing hammers.

In the distance, steam-billowing factories, seemingly newly built in an imperial style, loomed.

So this was where artifacts were made?

It fit his imagination perfectly.

"But all these fire dwarves look exactly the same, like they came from the same mold."

Mantou spotted a nearby smithy with a sign reading "Gino’s Weapon Workshop."

On the weapon rack, exquisite gear was displayed—all "rare" quality weapons, including his beloved lances.

"Let’s check this place out first."

Pushing the door open, Mantou stepped inside and was immediately dumbstruck.

"What the...?!"

"Anime character?!"

His shock was understandable.

The fire dwarf before him completely defied the stereotype of burly figures with thick beards.

Round-faced, large-eyed, with delicate features and a small, slender frame. He wore a frilly brass dress, a brass butterfly ribbon, and even had twin brass ponytails.

What kind of dwarf is this?!

A legendary brass fire spirit?

This was clearly a brass loli!

But then, the so-called loli fire dwarf spoke, and his rough, gravelly voice sounded like a roaring flame:

"You’re... a Starborn?"

Gino’s expression instantly turned furious.

Yet the anger on such a delicate face made for an oddly embarrassed expression.

"Are you going to ask why I look like this?"

Mantou stifled his laughter and nodded.

Gino roared, "It’s all because of you damned Starborn!"

"Some bastard, in his filthy desire, swapped out the fire dwarf smithing mold—so now I look like this! I don’t have the strong body or glorious beard of my kin! I’ve been laughed at since birth!"

"He even said I had the cutest appearance! That bastard—I want to smash his skull in with a brass hammer!"

"By Moradin, because of you Starborn, I’ve become the weakest, ugliest fire dwarf in a century!"

"Pfft—"

Mantou couldn’t hold back his laughter.

"What are you laughing at?!"

A burly-voiced loli dwarf—it was impossible not to laugh.

After venting, Gino crossed his slender arms and pouted. "Starborn, what do you want?"

Mantou said, "My weapon is broken. I need a new lance."

Gino snorted and turned away. "Go somewhere else. Starborn aren’t welcome here."

Mantou wasn’t offended—in fact, he was still struggling not to laugh.

A tsundere loli fire dwarf?

Great video material.

A new weapon and a viral video—two birds with one stone.

Speaking of which, the Mechanist Cult’s anime-obsessed guy really was something—he changed the smithing mold just to make fire dwarves into collectible figurines.

With that, Mantou put on a serious face. "I may be a Starborn, but I’m not him."

"Blaming me for his actions isn’t fair. Do you want people to call you ’Gino, the petty fire dwarf’?"

Gino hesitated, fingers fidgeting.

After a long silence, he muttered, "You... may have a point."

"Sorry..."

His voice was barely a whisper.

Fire dwarves were honest folk, quick to recognize their mistakes.

"That’s the spirit!"

"Mistakes are fine, as long as you own up and improve!"

Mantou laughed.

Looking at the loli fire dwarf, his voice turned earnest.

"Gino, your looks won’t change, but you can better yourself."

"Life isn’t about appearances."

Mantou patted Gino’s shoulder with a determined gaze.

"Looks don’t matter. It’s what’s inside that counts! Since you were born this way, all the more reason to work hard and improve yourself!"

He raised his hand, pointing into the distance with conviction.

"I believe that as long as you work hard and treat others kindly, even without a strong body, you can become a great fire dwarf!"

"I... you..."

"You... you’re right!"

Gino clenched his small fists. Having never been fed motivational speeches before, the pure-hearted fire dwarf was clearly moved.

If he weren’t a fire elemental, unable to produce tears, his eyes would likely be misty.

"Mantou, you’re different from them. You’re a good Starborn."

"I’ll forge you the best weapon right now! I’ll show everyone that I, Gino, can be a great fire dwarf too!"

"Alright!"

Mantou nodded with a grin.

Perfect!

A new weapon and video material—how could things get any better?

Suddenly, he felt the loli fire dwarf tugging at his sleeve, looking a bit shy. "I think what you said makes a lot of sense."

"Would you... like to meet my friends? They’d probably be happy to craft gear for you too."

"Of course!"

Mantou turned and was immediately dumbfounded.

Walking toward him were several bizarre-looking fire dwarves.

One looked like a mechanical cat, another had a face straight out of a K-pop surgery clinic, one resembled Ultraman, and another was straight-up a Transformer.

The sheer variety made Mantou wonder if he had entered the wrong game.

Who the hell was responsible for this?!

Absolutely unhinged!

And their taste was surprisingly diverse.

"They’re all victims of that bastard Starborn too. Because of their appearances, they can’t integrate into fire dwarf society."

"Holy crap, this is wild..."

Mantou muttered, reaching out a hand.

"Wait—"

"Hm?"

The loli fire dwarf turned back, curious.

"Have you guys ever considered expanding your business? Like offering Starborn guided tours... or paid photo sessions?"

—Several days later—

Fully equipped with brand-new gear, Mantou arrived at the First Arena, beaming with confidence.

Singo eyed his gleaming armor and the menacing lance, looking puzzled. "Did you rob a bank?"

"What do you mean rob a bank? My friends made this for me!"

"What kind of friends can craft rare-quality gear? Even though it doesn’t have many magical properties, the base stats are insane."

Mantou thought for a moment before replying seriously, "A loli, a mechanical cat, a K-pop surgery face, a Transformer, and Hatsune Miku."

Singo: "..."

Mantou grinned. "Don’t sweat the details. We’re here for the tournament, aren’t we?"

"I heard Battle Maniac has a match today?"

Singo replied calmly, "Not just Battle Maniac. A few professional players are also having their final preliminary matches. It’s a good chance to observe their strength."

"What about Autumn Rain?"

"She has too many fans in the audience. If she shows up, it turns into an autograph session. I’ll just send her the recordings later."

"Damn, that’s next-level."

Mantou couldn’t help but give him a thumbs-up.

Singo continued, "Unfortunately, the professionals haven’t revealed their full strength yet."

"There are too many participants in the preliminaries, so professionals rarely get matched against each other. Most of their battles are complete stomps—there’s not much to analyze."

"Especially the professional spellcasters, like Charlotte. He’s only been using Fireball, so no one can tell what his actual spell rotation is."

Mantou crossed his arms and said lazily, "Singo, you’re too cautious. I never bother studying my opponents."

"Just roll with the punches!"

Singo glanced at him and said coolly, "If you get your ass kicked later, don’t go crying to the referees, regretting your choices."

The referee’s voice rang out.

"Contestant #12533, Born Battle Maniac."

"Glory to Born Battle Maniac!"

"Battle Maniac, wreck ’em all!"

The audience erupted in cheers.

Born Battle Maniac was a seasoned professional, well-known across multiple games, with his own fanbase in "Erezaghe".

"Battle Maniac is here!"

Mantou also grew excited.

He much preferred spectating to getting blown up in the arena.

"Contestant #23335, Midnight Sonata."

The audience roared again—but this time with rage, not excitement.

Players who had been robbed by Midnight Sonata fumed, wishing they could personally jump into the arena and take him down.

"That bastard thief!"

"Finally!"

"I’m now officially a Battle Maniac fan!"

"Battle Maniac, chop that scumbag’s head off!"

As the referee ushered them forward, a shirtless Battle Maniac and a hooded Midnight Sonata entered the arena.

Singo commented blandly, "Now this is going to be interesting. I’ve researched Midnight Sonata—he’s a scumbag, but he’s skilled."

Mantou was intrigued.

"So, Battle Maniac might lose?"

"Not a chance. Just watch. You’ll see soon enough."

The referee’s call echoed through the arena.

"Begin!"

Night Poem was an 8th-level Rogue player who had chosen the [Thief] subclass.

In his previous two matches, he had used Mist Spell and his natural agility alongside his Quick Hands proficiency to toy with his opponents, even stealing all of their equipment mid-fight.

At this moment, Night Poem gazed at Born Battle Maniac in the distance.

"This guy looks troublesome."

"But a big shot like him must have plenty of good gear."

"No matter—I’ll muddy the waters first, then fish in the chaos!"

He tossed a smoke bomb forward, instantly shrouding the battlefield in thick mist, obscuring all vision.

"Damn Black Rat!"

"Shit, I can’t see a thing!"

"Goddamn it, of course the Black Rat would pull a stunt like this and interfere with the match!"

Suddenly, an enraged roar erupted from within the smoke.

"AHHHHHH—!"

A massive shockwave exploded outward from Born Battle Maniac’s position, instantly dispersing the smoke and forcefully shoving Night Poem away as soon as he reached for his opponent.

Night Poem looked down at his now empty hands, his expression filled with shock. "What?"

"H-He doesn’t have any equipment?!"

"He only has that axe!"

"No problem, I still have other tricks!"

From within his robes, Night Poem pulled out an array of gadgets—smoke bombs, sonic grenades, disruption arrows, poison vials, charm scrolls—and hurled them toward Born Battle Maniac.

The sheer number of devious, ruthless effects packed into his attacks was enough to make anyone’s scalp tingle.

But what he hadn’t expected was that, as a high-level Berserker, Born Battle Maniac possessed the path trait [Selfless Fury]—during his berserk state, he was nearly immune to all forms of crowd control.

In his heightened, beast-like combat intuition, no enemy could escape his sight!

"DIE!"

With blood-red eyes, Born Battle Maniac raised his massive battle-axe high and let out a furious war cry before swinging it down with all his might.

"BOOM!"

Blood splattered everywhere, soaking the black robes. The sheer force of the strike even split the ground apart.

"Fighting is exhilarating!"

From the audience came an unprecedented wave of cheers—not only for Born Battle Maniac’s overwhelming strength but also in celebration of a certain someone’s brutal demise.