MTLNOVEL Chapter 35: Lady Rael
Arlon entered the tournament site wearing the plain white mask Charon had gifted him.
The grounds were buzzing with activity, filled with thousands of players eager to compete.
As Arlon observed the crowd, he noted how relatively small the player base still was.
In the coming years, events like this would draw billions of participants, turning Trion into a global phenomenon.
But for now, the numbers were modest—though the explosive growth of the player base was inevitable.
Arlon understood the importance of laying the groundwork for his plans.
He needed to establish his presence and influence now, ensuring he could leverage as many players as possible in the future.
As these thoughts passed through his mind, he realized something: he hadn't checked the leaderboard in a while.
Reaching level 100 so quickly had undoubtedly caused a stir, disrupting the balance and expectations among players.
But he hadn't kept track of the progress others had made. It was time to see where everyone else stood.
***
Leaderboard (Level)
1- Arlon (100)
2-June (40)
3- Evan (39)
4- Pierre(38)
5- Carmen (38)
6- Zack (38)
7- Lei (37)
8- Carole (37)
9- Maria (35)
10- Adam (35)
***
The first thing Arlon noticed as he scanned the leaderboard was that the top 10 players had surpassed level 30, with June already reaching level 40.
His eyes narrowed as he searched the list for a familiar name—Jack. He wasn't there.
Jack was the player Arlon had killed on launch day.
Though he still believed his actions were justified, he couldn't shake the certainty that Jack would have accepted an offer from the Keldars if it ever came his way.
And Arlon knew there would have been nothing he could do to stop it.
He planned to speak with the administrators soon, sharing fragments of his knowledge about the future without giving away that he was a regressor.
His goal was to save as many Trionians as possible. But Arlon was pragmatic—he understood he couldn't save everyone.
As these thoughts lingered, his attention was drawn to a woman across the tournament grounds.
It was someone he had hoped to see here.
She wore an elegant white robe-like dress, her presence commanding attention without effort.
Her jade-green hair cascaded down her back, contrasting with her pale, almost ethereal complexion.
Her eyes, pure white, gave the impression of blindness. But Arlon knew better.
This was Lady Rael.
In her late 20s, she was one of the most enigmatic figures in Trion.
Her eyes weren't blind—they saw beyond the physical world. When she looked at someone, she glimpsed fragments of their past or potential future.
However, Rael only revealed what she saw when it was absolutely necessary. The power to know events that could change the future came with heavy responsibility.
Unfortunately, her abilities didn't work on players. To her, Arlon appeared like any other person would see him.
Lady Rael didn't need her gift to identify him, though.
One glance at his level, even with the mask, was enough for her to understand exactly who he was since there weren't any other 100-level saviors.
Arlon turned his head away from Lady Rael. There would be time to speak with her later.
For now, the tournament demanded his focus.
The event was set to last three days, a necessity given the sheer number of participants.
The first day was dedicated to the preliminaries, held at various locations across the grounds.
With thousands of players, it was impossible to create a real ring for each match, so they went with separating random spots for matches.
The real tournament would begin on the second day.
Each participant would fight five matches on the first day, and the 32 players with the most wins would advance to the main event that would last for two days.
Arlon checked the list to find out in which group he was and against whom he would be fighting. It was a guy named Dylan.
He located the designated area for his match and began to wait, watching other fights in the meantime.
Unsurprisingly, he didn't recognize anyone in the matches nearby. With so many participants, finding familiar faces was a challenge.
As he observed, he noted the general lack of skill among the players. The necromancers didn't have enough skill to fight in an arena where there weren't any monsters to revive.
The summoners didn't have powerful monsters to summon and priests fared poorly in direct combat.
These would change in time since everyone would find different skills and get better at the game.
But, for now, it was clear that most players were still weak.
Arlon, however, was far ahead of them, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.
His progress gave him confidence that he could defeat the final boss in just two years, perhaps even sooner.
As he entertained the thought, his turn arrived.
His opponent, Dylan, was an assassin.
In truth, Arlon had initially felt guilty about using his level advantage to fight lower-level players.
But he quickly rationalized it: he had earned his position, needed the rewards, and, more importantly, relished the opportunity to defeat an assassin.
He really hated assassins.
Arlon stepped into the small, cordoned-off area serving as their arena, with Dylan following closely behind.
"Hey, what's with the mask? Trying to be all mysterious like in those fantasy novels?" Dylan mocked, laughing as he drew his daggers.
Even though the viewers heard it since the arena was small, Arlon didn't respond. He had no interest in exchanging words.
Even if he didn't like the guy, he knew it would be an easy win and there wasn't any need to temple on him any more than that.
Even though he thought that...
The signal to begin cut through his thoughts.
"Begin!"
Arlon exploded into action, kicking off the ground with immense force. Before Dylan could react, Arlon's punch connected with his chest, delivering a decisive blow.
The fight was over in an instant. Dylan collapsed, defeated—and dead.
The crowd around the arena froze in stunned silence for a moment before erupting in cheers.
"Waaaah!"
While long, drawn-out battles were the norm and often preferred, there was something exhilarating about a swift, one-sided victory.
Seeing an overconfident villain taken down in a single hit once in a while provided a refreshing change of pace.
But then, the referee stepped forward and raised his hand. "Arlon wins!"
The crowd quieted as murmurs spread.
They all knew who Arlon was. His name, his reputation, and his sudden rise in power were enough to spark a flurry of speculation.
The air buzzed with whispered conversations as the audience tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed.
Arlon, however, remained calm. Without a word, he left the arena, already preparing for his next match.
---
Meanwhile, the other Arlon—the copy—was among the administrators.
The tournament had drawn a significant number of government officials to Istarra. The sheer number of referees alone was enough to make the city feel overcrowded.
Shirl and Charon sat with the copy among a group of administrators. Shirl appeared to know some of them, engaging in casual conversation.
Even if she didn't know them personally, it was clear everyone was familiar with Charon.
Arlon wasn't entirely sure how famous Charon was, but judging by the attention he received, it was safe to assume his reputation was formidable.
As the copy observed the group, it noticed subtle movement among some of the administrators.
Although it was a weakened version, the copy shared many of Arlon's traits. Unless directly controlled, it could act autonomously, mirroring Arlon's personality, instincts, and mind.
A small group of officials approached Charon. One of them stepped forward, introducing himself.
"Sir Charon, it's an honor to see you here. My name is Ben, first aide-de-camp to our ruler, Zephyrion. Since he couldn't attend in person, he sent me to greet you on his behalf."
"Heh, that kid's grown up well," Charon replied with a faint smirk. "What does he want?"
"There's an important matter we need to discuss," Ben said, lowering his voice. "But may we speak in private? It's of utmost importance." His gaze briefly flicked toward Shirl and the copy.
With a sigh, Charon stood. "Haah... You shouldn't be tiring an old man like me. Let's go."
The group left, leaving Shirl and the copy behind.
Shirl's expression grew thoughtful as she watched them go. "What do you think it's about? Could it be...?" She trailed off, not finishing her sentence.
The copy could guess what was on her mind. She was likely thinking about the monsters threatening the frontlines.
Shirl still carried the weight of her past actions.
Although she had been coerced, her involvement could have indirectly caused the deaths of hundreds of people in Oceina.
The guilt, coupled with the loss of her family, still weighed heavily on her.
"I'm not sure," the copy replied. "Maybe."
After a brief pause, it added, "I'm going to watch some of the matches. Want to come with me?"
Shirl shook her head. "I'll pass. I'm saving my energy for the main event. These early matches don't interest me."
"Alright, see you later," the copy said, standing to leave.
In truth, watching matches was just an excuse. The copy had no intention of heading to the arena.
Instead, it planned to eavesdrop on Charon and Ben's conversation.
Given the bustling activity in the city, the copy didn't think it would draw any suspicion. It quietly followed the group, keeping its distance as they moved away from the crowd.