Beneath its sign, adorned with red dice, the tavern named "Black Orca" was quite renowned in the vicinity.

The red dice symbolized the ownership of the Nukijo gang, who proudly claimed dominion over the nights in Charloin, the largest trading city in the south. The Nukijo's reputation was so formidable that even knights and soldiers tasked with maintaining order in Charloin would turn a blind eye to any incident under the sign of the red dice.

Among these establishments, the Black Orca had risen in fame over the past few years by providing the newest form of entertainment – a direct and successful venture into the world of 'nightlife.'

This was the 'Random Combat Gambling.'

"It's truly amusing. Contestants, strangers to each other, are randomly chosen and sent to the arena. Have you ever seen a child struggling against an adult, or a burly man weeping as he runs from one even larger? It's hilarious. The randomness makes it all possible. We draw numbered beads from a jar."

"Hmm."

‘Mustache Jack,’ the doorman of the Black Orca, watched with disinterest as the barrel manager enthusiastically explained the random combat gambling to the new guests.

'Today brings new fish to the net,' the doorman thought.

The rules of the random combat gambling were simple: anyone could participate, and there were no complex rules to follow. The only objective was to win against whoever the opponent might be, earning money based on the number of victories.

"The prize starts at a minimum of one bronze coin per win. The highest tier? Don't be shocked. Just one win earns you a gold coin! One! Win ten times, and that's ten gold coins!"

In the lower tiers, where the rewards were meager, fights often involved children or the weak, easily winning with a single punch. Although these matches lacked the thrill of a tightly contested battle, they were amusing in their own right, with inexperienced fighters clumsily brawling, providing sufficient excitement and laughter.

However, the atmosphere in the arena where one could earn a gold coin was entirely different. It was said that each match in this tier often ended with a corpse, underlining its perilous nature.

One might be lucky and face a scrawny child, driven by desperation for money, and win easily. But misfortune could also bring an encounter with a creature or monster far stronger and larger than any human, leading to a swift and gruesome end.

Any weapon was permissible, or none at all.

There were no cowardly tactics in this place. Whether throwing dirt in an opponent's eyes, striking a vital spot, or feigning defeat only to suddenly rise and stab an overconfident foe, victory was all that mattered.

Thus, the number of long-term participants in the fighting, known as 'bet horses,' was exceedingly low. But this was of no concern. The lure of easy money was not unique to the empire alone.

The advantage of a maritime trading city was the constant presence of foreigners who arrived by ship, always filling the city.

Every day brought new participants to the fights, ensuring that the gamblers placing their bets always had fresh excitement and opportunities to wager.

'But these days, simply winning in random combat isn't enough to make money. The newer arena downstairs is far more interesting.'

As the doorman was lost in his own thoughts, a newcomer, seemingly aware of his musings, inquired, "I heard there's something more intriguing than simple random combat here. Is that not the case?"

The barrel manager, startled by the question, quickly scanned the surroundings and then leaned in to whisper to the guests, "How did you come to know of it? Who told you?"

"It was at the Braddock Inn... I believe that was its name? Anyway, some folks there mentioned it while we were playing cards."

The first guest, whose features were somewhat indistinct, chuckled in response. His companion, shrouded in a black hood, remained silent. The doorman suspected this silent figure to be either a particularly sinister character or a noble in disguise.

'He looks young, but he's hiding his face, and his posture has an air of nobility... I've seen plenty like him. Perhaps the large companion is his servant?'

"Ah, Braddock. I see. You've come to the right place," the manager said, relaxing a bit with a knowing smile.

"Indeed. Simple random combat is just an old-fashioned game from years past. The hottest game nowadays? It's 'that one' where creatures more monstrous than monsters fiercely battle and jostle, drenching the floor in blood as spectators place their bets."

A bright smile, incongruous with his cruel words, spread across the manager's face, mirrored by a similar smirk from the doorman.

'Whoever thought this up is a genius at finding ways to make money.'

Two years ago, when the Awakeners first appeared and the initial chaos had subsided, the Nukijo gang began to realize the impact these new beings could have on their random combat fights.

The abilities of the Awakened were flashy and conspicuous. Whether spewing fire or water, or sprouting grotesque horns, their participation in the fights caused the number of gamblers and spectators to surge beyond comparison.

Naturally, creating a new combat arena exclusively for the Awakeners in the basement was the next logical step.

'A lot of effort went into it. Magic spells to prevent destruction, expensive furniture to accommodate the esteemed guests...'

And the new venture was a hit.

Even nobles, eager to maintain appearances, heard the rumors and came, discreetly masked. This was a thrilling and novel form of fighting, unlike any betting game before.

Such was its success that other gangs running similar random combat arenas began seeking out Awakeners to participate in their own events.

Gradually, finding Awakeners for these fights became more challenging. Nukijo, the head of the gang, using his connections, began importing Awakeners regularly from the west about a year ago.

It was a bold decision, made in the belief that this venture would become the gang's primary source of income.

"However, not just anyone can enter and watch like in the first-floor arena. Unfortunately, one needs specific qualifications to participate."

"Qualifications?"

The hooded companion, speaking for the first time, asked with a chilling tone that was as ominous as his silence had been.

The manager, sharing a similar sentiment with the doorman, flinched for a moment before reflexively smiling and was about to speak when the door inside burst open. A group of young men, with faces betraying their naivety, spilled out, accompanied by Regina, one of the managers of the second basement-level fighting arena.

"Is the registration for participants over now?"

"Yes, it is. Come back later with your belongings, please."

"Understood."

"We're really looking forward to having such young and capable individuals join us. See you later."

As Regina bid them farewell with a smile, the young men's faces flushed with embarrassment.

"Ah, yes, of course."

The doorman already knew who they were. These were the Awakeners, who, like the first and second guests present, had been lured by other gangs to this place a few hours earlier.

'Were they the ones who said they came to apply for the Cavalry recruitment? I believe they passed the first round of tests, but well, that's all over now. They've come here to dig their own graves. I wonder if they'll even make it to the second round.'

The Black Orca had seen a fair share of such naive souls lately. The doorman secretly savored a mischievous pleasure, imagining how their faces would change in a few hours, having come here with light hearts, hoping to gather travel expenses.

So engrossed was he in this thought that he failed to notice the hooded second guest watching these newcomers intently.

'What would the Cavalry say about those who volunteered but deserted midway?'

As far as they knew, many of the Awakeners who came to join the Cavalry deserted for various reasons: failing the first test, passing but having sudden family emergencies, finding the atmosphere of the Cavalry different from their expectations, encountering an enemy they disliked... the reasons were diverse.

Once they deserted, the Cavalry had no more to do with them. Busy with the influx of applicants, the Cavalry focused on their work while the Nukijo gang lured the wandering Awakeners into participating in their fights.

Those who came of their own volition and later cried foul found it too late to change their minds. The gang cunningly held them with hidden clauses in contracts and oaths, using them in the second basement-level arena until they were of no more use.

'These sturdy ones should last a while.'

He had been quite anxious due to a mishap where participants from the west failed to arrive. Thankfully, fortune favored them. The establishment of the Cavalry branch in the city and their recruitment had been a stroke of luck for the Nukijo gang.

'They probably don't know what they're getting into.'

As the doorman watched the young Awakeners leave the tavern, smiling silently to himself, the first and second guests whispered to each other.

Then, the first guest smiled and began to speak.

"Hmm. It seems that tonight is the night for that 'more interesting fight', isn't it?"

"No, it's tomorrow. It's not held every day; we need time to prepare."

"What were the conditions to participate again? I seem to have missed your answer earlier."

"Ah. If you wish to bet and watch, you must first pay an entrance fee. It's about five silver coins, and you need to take an oath to enter. It's for the safety of our guests, you could say. You can choose not to take the oath, but keep in mind that the entrance fee will be much higher then."

"I see."

The first guest nodded his head.