How to Survive as a Genius Spy in the Game

Chapter 115: Mad Dog of Sorenson (1)

Chapter 115: Mad Dog of Sorenson (1)

“A-are you sure?” 

Osten asked in surprise.

I had simply told him to find lodging and rest after arriving in Sorenson, but his reaction was a bit extreme.

“Yeah. There’s nothing for you to do here yet since the organization is just starting out. Why, don’t you want to?”

“No, it’s just… it’s been so long since I’ve rested.”

Well, he had been treated like a slave at the Innovation Magic Tower, and we had walked all the way to Sorenson without resting, so it’s understandable he’d be tired.

“Not sure how long we’ll stay, but rest until then. I’ll have your workshop set up separately later on… Hmm, if you’re bored, you can gather materials and make something too.”

“Ah, understood.”

Osten turned serious. Thinking he might have misunderstood, I clarified.

“I’m not forcing you. Do it if you want to. I just mean, truly rest up. Got it?”

“Yes!”

It seemed he still didn’t quite understand. The slave mentality must have been ingrained deep within him.

I shook my head.

“No. Just rest until I return. Working will kill you.”

Only then did Osten hurriedly nod in acknowledgment.

“But where are you going?”

“You don’t need to know. It won’t take long.”

To prepare for any contingencies, I secured separate lodgings before starting my inquiries.

The method was simple: find a homeless child loitering like a potential pickpocket and ask them. A small fee would suffice.

Of course, this method required caution too. Like when I sought out Casmak, the child could belong to their side.

But at present, I had no need for such caution. It didn’t matter if they found out about me.

Objectively speaking, the chances of anyone in this city being able to handle me were slim.

“Aron, you say?”

“Yeah, he’s at the fighting pit.”

“Of course, I know! He’s the rising prodigy these days, isn’t he?”

Had he not been called ‘the Mad Dog’ yet?

The expression ‘rising prodigy’ suggested he had not yet become immensely famous.

From further conversation, it seemed he was just starting to gain renown.

In any case, it was fortunate. Aron was a character I could never have recruited after starting the game.

Whenever he had been co-opted by the devil worshippers, it ultimately worked in my favor.

It meant I had arrived at an opportune time. The child smiled at me.

“Here to gamble, I assume?”

With his growing fame, it seemed quite a few gamblers had started seeking out Aron.

It suited me fine if it meant less suspicion.

“Yeah. Where’s the fighting pit?”

“Aron and the fighting pit are two different matters, you see.”

The child gave me a sly grin, signaling they wanted more money.

I tossed them another coin.

“Hehe, thank you kindly. Follow me. But who are you trying to get to?”

I simply glared in silence, and the child sheepishly scratched their head.

“Ah! Nevermind, it’s none of my business! I’ll take you there right away!”

As we walked, the child discreetly glanced at me again.

“Actually, I do have one more bit of information.”

“About what?”

“Aron! Just a trifling matter.”

Hmm. Since they had readily accepted the coin, there was a high chance of it being a ploy. Even if true, I likely already knew about it.

I looked into the child’s eyes. Desire and mischief? No, it was a curious gaze.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to listen. With a slight frown, I tossed them another coin.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Well, you see, there was someone else looking for Aron yesterday, like you mercenary folks.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Aron’s not that famous yet beyond Sorenson. It’s strange to have people looking for him two days in a row like this.”

The child continued.

“You’re not from the same city, are you? Where are you from? Veden? The rumors might have reached there.”

“Who knows.”

“In any case, his appearance was normal enough, but that guy had this ominous vibe about him that made me uneasy. Maybe you know him? You… gamblers tend to know each other, don’t you?”

“With just that, I wouldn’t know. There’s more than just one or two.”

I had a hunch that person might be a devil worshipper – just intuition.

I had thought it fortunate, but perhaps not.

“What did he look like?”

“Short brown hair… Black eyes, I think? His gaze was quite sharp. Hmm, I don’t really remember the details. Sorry about that.”

With just that description, it was hard to identify who it might be. Not like I knew every devil worshipper either.

I didn’t press further. A homeless child roaming all day would find it difficult to remember faces.

“Well, it’s not that important. If it’s someone I know, I’ll see them today.”

“Yeah, exactly! Over there is the underground fighting pit! It opens at 8.”

The child pointed down an alley off the main street, where two thugs stood guard at the entrance.

An underworld fighting pit. It seemed too intimidating to venture inside.

“Thanks.”

After tossing them another coin, gratefully bowing their head, the child retreated.

I briefly pondered my next move.

How should I proceed? It wouldn’t do to compete directly with the devil worshippers for recruitment.

If I had arrived first, it wouldn’t be an issue, but I was a step behind.

It was only a day’s difference, but had they already made their move? If so, the situation wasn’t ideal.

Using the Winds, I assessed the atmosphere around the fighting pit.

It was calm.

Since I would need to utterly crush their organization to earn Aron’s trust, it seemed no action had been taken yet.

‘Are they still in the observation stage?’

It wouldn’t be like the devil worshippers to hastily make a move after arriving, especially not with me around.

For now, they would likely lay low and move stealthily, even more so because of me.

If it was just that stage, then all was well. I could observe today and deal with the devil worshippers first.

It would only complicate matters if I approached Aron first and caught their eye.

If they were merely observing, they would likely come again today. I calmly waited for evening to arrive.

I timed my arrival at the fighting pit accordingly. Entering wasn’t too difficult.

People were already lining up to get in, so I simply paid the entrance fee.

The incoming crowd showed no signs of caution – no concerns about crackdowns.

Underground fighting pits usually operated by having the organization’s leader make payments to the city’s nobility.

“Will you be betting, or just watching?”

As soon as I entered, a tout approached and handed me a program.

“Of course I’ll be betting.”

“These are today’s matches. How would you like to wager?”

“I came to see Aron.”

“Not interested in the other matches?”

I pretended to ponder briefly before nodding.

“Just that one for now.”

“But that’s the final match, so you won’t be able to bet on anything else?”

“It’s my first time in Sorenson, so I’ll just observe for now.”

Disappointment flashed across the tout’s eyes – this was how he made his living, after all.

“Will you be betting on Aron or Lefford?”

Suddenly, his tone became rather dismissive.

I replied without missing a beat.

“On Aron.”

“The odds are 12.3 to 1.”

12.3? That was surprisingly high, even before Aron’s fame had truly spread.

Since Aron was sure to win anyway, I placed a sizable bet, causing the tout’s eyes to widen slightly.

After receiving my betting slip, I entered the arena. Even before the matches began, it was filled with noise.

People held drinks in one hand and cigarettes in the other, filling the air with the corresponding smells.

Using the Winds, I blocked the odors from my nose and dampened the noise as I surveyed my surroundings. Brown hair, sharp gaze.

But with just those details, it was difficult to pinpoint the individual. No one particularly stood out either.

‘Haven’t they arrived yet?’

Since Aron’s match was last, the fights began with nameless combatants.

There was nothing really worth watching.

The bettors cheered fervently, but to me, the skill level was sorely lacking.

Instead, I focused my attention elsewhere, using the Winds to study the fighting pit’s layout.

While familiarizing myself with the structure, I also located the positions of any enslaved or captured individuals, as well as the combatants.

“Next up, the rising prodigy Aron takes on the colossus Lefford and four other combatants!”

Finally, the anticipated match was about to begin. Lefford and four fighters – a 5-on-1 bout.

No wonder the odds were so high in Aron’s favor.

Soon, Aron and the five combatants appeared. Four of them seemed unremarkable, but one stood out.

His stature alone exceeded two meters, with a casual, nonchalant expression – that must be the colossus Lefford.

On the opposite side stood the resolute, youthful face of the sixteen-year-old Aron.

I noticed a slight waver in Aron’s gaze, a blend of fear and determination.

From the outset, it was an unreasonable matchup.

Given Lefford’s ‘Colossus’ nickname, this might have been a sacrificial bout to bolster his reputation at Aron’s expense.

But I knew Aron would emerge victorious.

“Waaaaaah!”

The match began amid the crowd’s cheers. Aron made the first move – a wise choice.

In multiple combatant fights, the most crucial factor is space. Surrendering the initiative means having less space to maneuver.

Aron dashed to the left, a swift advance toward the outermost opponent.

Blocking the axe with his left arm, he thrust his sword forward, and blood spurted from the combatant’s neck.

It wasn’t an efficient strike, more akin to showmanship common in fighting pits.

To survive such arenas, one needed to become a famous figure, hence the dramatic flair.

“Aron! Aron!”

Amidst the crowd’s frenzy, one of the combatants targeted Aron’s back. Aron dropped into a crouch, spinning to face him.

His sweeping sword sliced off the combatant’s ankles, a clean strike worthy of praise.

“Gaaah!”

The fighter collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony from his lost leg.

“Die!”

Next, a spearman lunged at Aron, the spearpoint grazing his helmet and sending up sparks.

Aron’s blade severed the spearman’s neck, the head spinning through the air before thudding onto the dirt floor.

Snatching the fallen spear, Aron hurled it at the terrified remaining combatant.

The impaled fighter went limp, briefly airborne.

“Waaaaaah!”

“Aron! Aron! Aron!”

Amid the crowd’s roars, Aron panted heavily.

Witnessing the ‘Mad Dog of Sorenson’ I had seen in the game felt somewhat surreal in person.

The recklessness was identical – an aggressive swordsmanship that sacrificed flesh to claim bone.

But seeing it live, his talent’s brilliance shone through. With a bit more refinement, it would become razor-sharp.

The colossus, presumably Lefford, looked down at Aron with a casual air. This was effectively the real match.

The other four had likely just served to wear Aron down for Lefford’s sake.

Perhaps a ceremonial bout to enhance Lefford’s renown.

‘Hmm. Judging by their refusal to use underhanded tactics, this seems like a reputable fighting pit?’

Of course, the term ‘reputable’ hardly befits an underworld fighting pit that coerces combatants, but I meant it in that sense.

Since most of them were the ones rigging it, that constituted ‘reputable’ in such places.

“The lone survivor is the fighting pit’s pride, the Colossus Lefford! Can the rising prodigy Aron truly defeat Lefford?”

Then, I sensed a man entering the opposite stands. Brown hair, sharp gaze.

At a glance, I realized he was the one the child had mentioned – and a devil worshipper.

Author's Thoughts

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