The Awakener was the lizard wizard who looked even more burly than an orc. Flames erupted from one hand, and he threw a fireball in the direction of the wind. With a loud explosion, the fireball shattered into pieces as soon as it reached mid-air.
He then tried to gather ice in his palm, and suddenly a thin layer of ice appeared on the arena, making it slippery, but the ice evaporated as soon as it appeared.
Rock, the orc monk with a cloth covering his eyes, was probably unable to exert his power in the iron cage, so he ran around aimlessly, kicking his legs aggressively into the air.
He was a blind monk, which is why he was blindfolded. Monks need to use their keen senses to judge the direction of the enemy, and this guy had obviously only learned a little bit. His flying kick looked pretty fierce, and his body spinning back and forth was also correct, but he was a bit lacking in speed.
The masters and ladies couldn't understand what they were doing; since they came on stage, they hadn't launched a single decent attack.
One was merely trying to bluff and protect himself, while the other relentlessly conjured up magic, but each attempt was unsuccessful.
The Awakener's chance had come. He finally gathered a five-foot-wide fireball in his palm. This fireball was very large, but there was nothing inside. Therefore, when he threw it, it was light and airy, giving people the feeling that it would dissipate with a single breath.
The rock faced the fireball head-on, and anyone who didn't know better would think he loved fire. The fireball, like a small meteorite, also hurtled towards the rock.
The iron cage hummed as it collided with the fireball. The rock's head slammed into the fireball, even spinning it around in the air like a ball a dozen times before returning it intact.
The Awakener flashed, and the fireball slammed into the magical shield, smearing it like a swatted mosquito.
The rock was so pleased with itself that it couldn't control its spinning. It slipped and fell, looking as ridiculous as a silly goose.
The crowd below the ring erupted in laughter.
"How can you be so useless?"
"In my opinion, he must have only recently learned martial arts."
"Didn't the Awakener just learn the fireball spell? I've seen several street performers who can do it better than him."
Everyone is right. These two people are simply not a good match in terms of profession, and they don't have any real skills.
Logically speaking, orcs could never become monks who rely on their senses to fight, and lizardmen could never use magic, yet they insist on playing a role in areas they are not good at.
This was an entertainment segment that Blood Raven deliberately arranged to enhance the show's appeal.
The gentlemen and ladies were initially dissatisfied, but they were later amused because it was a show they had never seen before.
Rock and the Awakener undoubtedly hadn't considered this possibility; they may have severed their connection with the outside world and been told that orcs could become monks and lizardmen could learn magic.
The two poor non-reincarnated individuals tried their best to appear powerful. The rock was sometimes fast and sometimes slow. When it was fast, it couldn't control the rhythm, and when it was slow, it could be tripped up with a simple slide tackle.
The Awakened Ones rolled the fireballs into large, round shapes, but such ornate appearances were useless; the power of a spell depended on its own magical power, and the lizardmen's magical power ranked at the bottom among all races.
Nevertheless, Rock couldn't dodge the fireballs and was hit several times. The audience below could only hear the faint, indistinct scraping sounds, not the rumbling sound of magic hitting him. But every time he was hit, he was met with enthusiastic laughter.
Fortunately, Rock had already learned a simple Stone Skin spell, a basic spell that would allow him to take a few more hits to the face.
After more than ten minutes, both of them were exhausted, but the Awakener was obviously exhausted even faster, because, in theory, monks are the nemesis of magic.
But Pan Shi didn't know what was wrong with him. He looked drunk and sick, as if his brain had been hit by a fireball. He walked a few steps half-dead, stopped, thought for a moment, and then turned around and started again.
After repeating this several times, he inexplicably collapsed amidst painful agitation.
What happened?
Only the awakened one knew what was going on. He had been continuously using sonic spells of the transformation type. Because this spell had no visible form, it was difficult for people who did not know magic to detect it. It could create a deep, resonant vibration underfoot.
Monks primarily rely on their ears to orient themselves, making them particularly sensitive to sound types. Furthermore, Rock is a mediocre monk who lacks immediate immunity to spells, making him vulnerable to targeted spells.
The rock thus lost to the awakened ones.
Those who win money are happy, while those who lose money curse and swear.
"What kind of game is this? How could Rockstone lose?"
"You're so stupid, you don't understand."
"You understand? Then explain it to me!"
"I saw the Awakened One using bewitching magic."
"Was it a bewitching spell used on all of us that caused what we saw to be different from reality?"
"You're all wrong. Let me explain. He clearly used a blunt force spell, repeatedly hitting the other person's head with that thing!"
Everyone criticized and rejected the areas they were least proficient in, arguing heatedly with each other.
At this moment, a row of lights on the electronic screen went dark, leaving only a few that were just enough to illuminate the red carpet leading to the gate.
An orc chieftain with an inverted triangle-shaped physique walked at the head of a long procession.
Behind him followed about twenty non-reincarnated individuals, each hunched over from exhaustion and fear. Each person had a wooden fork, over six feet long, around their neck, with the two ends connected by a stick near the back of their neck.
As they moved forward, the orc chieftain leading the group carried the fork handle of the first non-reincarnated person on his shoulder, the second person carried the fork of the third person, and so on.
It's not hard to imagine that no one could escape.
These are the first non-reincarnated individuals available for purchase and sale. They can be bought at the regular price, or even at a discount.
The orc chieftain made every non-reincarnated person stand on the arena, and allowed wealthy men or women who were willing to pay a high price to come up and touch their bodies.
The masters and ladies, while being picky, made a selection among the stronger and more beautiful non-reincarnated individuals.
The orc chieftain kept boasting about the Blood Raven Club's 'goods,' talking about the dangers of acquiring rare species, and even translating the local Faan language into Earth languages for the buyers.
Several wealthy gentlemen quickly picked out the good and beautiful items, leaving only the cheap goods. So some people brought out coarse cotton cloth and haphazardly pieced-together weapons, willing to exchange them for equally cheap goods.
The 'goods' on the arena were quickly sold out, leaving only old men and the sick. The orc chieftain didn't know what to do with these useless people, so he offered to sell them all together for the price of a bottle of wine.
However, no one wanted them. What use could the masters and mistresses possibly have for these useless people? They couldn't be servants or grooms, and they even had to be fed and watered.
“Buy them,” the orc chieftain said to an old man with a bouncy belly. “If you don’t buy them, they won’t live to see tomorrow morning.”
"Even if you shoot them all dead right now, I still won't buy it."
"good!"
The orc chieftain pulled a pistol from his belt, aimed at the non-reincarnated one standing at the front, and fired. The unwanted 'commodity' fell to the ground.
"Screw you! You're actually going to fire!"
"Let's look at this one, anyone want it?"
"don't want!"
Another gunshot rang out, and the second non-reincarnated person lay in a pool of blood.
Inside the side room, Billy was so enraged that he could no longer contain himself and decided to smash the glass in front of him and fight the orc chieftain to the death.
Mia stopped him from behind, saying, "Calm down, you'll alert the enemy."
"They even brought the dirtiest plundering culture from Earth to this other world! Watch me blast a hole in his head!"
"That's why we're helping Senator Mandago."
"All their suffering is because of the Great Reboot."
Another gunshot rang out, and the ordinary trading session on the arena finally ended with five gunshots.
The orc chieftain ordered his men to carry away the five corpses. He spoke in the loudest voice possible without a microphone: "Ladies and gentlemen! I apologize for keeping you waiting. The Blood Raven auction is about to begin. I will now have them come up one by one. Please don't hesitate to spend your money and buy them. They will surely bring great joy to your lives!"
The master and his wives all looked expectantly at the door under the light.
Mia, who was in the side room, suddenly took Billis's hand and said, "Let's go down too."
Where to?
"Of course, I'll attend the auction."
"Me and you?"
"It wasn't Mia and Agent Billy, but Miss Montit and her lover, Captain Marcel."
“Yes, Miss Montit.”
Billy held Mia's arm intimately, as if he were her true lover.
As soon as they came downstairs, they bumped into a portly couple in long robes. The man seemed to recognize Miss Montitt and her lover at a glance.
Miss Montit extended her white hand for the other man to kiss, and Captain Marcel gave his wife a symbolic hug. The two exchanged a few more casual pleasantries.
A soft tinkling of bells rang out, and the lights focused towards the gate as the orc chieftain brought out the first treasure of the day.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com