Chapter 483: The Match and Bronze Fortress
"Boom!" A column of flame shot skyward, its fiery tongue lashing out in a merciless ravage, reducing the opposing player to ash in an instant.
The woman with golden vertical pupils and long, elegant dragon horns gave a light flick of her wrist. The flames vanished as if they had never been.
She turned, offering a slight bow in homage to the audience stand.
The announcer’s voice rang out with passion.
"Another exhilarating battle—complete and utter domination!"
"Let’s give it up for Xia Ye Qiu Yu, who has claimed victory in this match!"
The audience stand erupted into thunderous cheers. Fans waved glowing lamps frantically, their voices rising in wild ecstasy.
"Qiu Yu’s wife!"
"I love her so much, it’s unbearable!"
"Qiu Yu is so beautiful and fierce—totally in love!"
"She’s my wife, of course she’s amazing."
"Xia Ye Qiu Yu is your wife? I’ll pee yellow first—wake up this guy!"
"Damn it, she’s my wife!"
"Hello, everyone! Welcome to the grand arena!"
"Today marks the third day of the Preliminary Tournament. You can see the energy in the crowd is still blazing hot. The contestants this round are truly exceptional. Let’s welcome…"
The announcers’ voices echoed through the arena.
The Preliminary Tournament was in full swing—fierce, relentless, and electrifying. Top-tier star players had all advanced with undefeated records, while a few underdog sensations had burst onto the scene, stealing the spotlight.
Iconic moments had already emerged:
The summoning of the Undying Triad in Rainy Night City, overwhelming an opponent in a three-on-one assault; Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang cleaving a Max Level Paladin clean in half with a single slash; Charlotte’s textbook-perfect spell counter.
But this wasn’t just any tournament—nearly a hundred thousand participants, 154 regions, twelve days of nonstop competition. On average, each venue hosted fifty matches a day.
Those who’d already secured their spots were now preparing for the Elimination Tournament. Professional players’ profiles were being sold on the Black Market at astronomical prices.
And yet, despite the spotlight, Stuffed Bun, one of the most anticipated Professional Players, was stressed—over his weapons.
Having won all three of his matches, he was already guaranteed a place in the next stage. No need to worry about elimination.
But yesterday, during his second match, he’d been hit by a suicide attack from an Artificer player—a maniacal charge fueled by a full load of electromagnetic bombs. The explosion had nearly sent him spiraling from the sky. Only Noodles, with lightning-fast reflexes, managed to flip mid-air and drag him clear of the blast radius.
He was unharmed—but his trusted, rare-quality weapon, the Crimson-Scaled Standard Lance, had been destroyed in battle. The loss left him heartbroken.
So today, he’d sought out a Mechanical Divinity player, hoping to buy some gear.
"You want a cold weapon?" The Battlefield Wheelchair Man sounded surprised.
"Why not get a semi-automatic rifle? I’ve got a replica of the M1 Garand, plus a Lightning Element Emitter."
"No. You don’t understand the romance of a Lance Charge!" The wheelchair man sighed, disappointed. "Cold weapons from Mechanical Divinity aren’t the highest quality."
"Ah, but if you’re after a real cold weapon, I’d recommend one place—Bronze Fortress."
"The Fire Dwarves there craft the finest cold weapons in existence. They’ve even produced artifacts of exceptional quality."
"Oh?" Stuffed Bun’s eyes lit up at the word "rare."
He’d never seen a single Opening Box yield anything beyond common or rare—this was a first.
"Where exactly is this Bronze Fortress?"
"The Elemental Plane of Fire."
One day later.
Elemental Plane of Fire. Bronze Fortress. Imperial Affairs Office.
"Wow, so many people!" Stuffed Bun held his freshly issued Fire Elemental Plane Permit, gazing at the bustling crowd. The Fire Dwarves moved with purpose, their forges blazing. His expression was bright with delight.
At the city’s heart stood a towering statue of the Dwarf God—dignified, imposing. Tiny copper-forged homes nestled together with intricate precision. Everywhere, the rhythmic clang! clang! of blacksmithing filled the air.
In the distance, new factories belched steam, their architecture unmistakably imperial in style.
This was where artifacts were made?
Perfect. Exactly as he’d imagined.
"Though… these Fire Dwarves all look the same. Like they were carved from the same mold."
He spotted a blacksmith shop ahead, its sign reading: Gino’s Weapon Workshop.
The weapon racks displayed several finely crafted pieces—each of Rare quality. And there, among them, was a long spear—exactly the one he’d been searching for.
"Guess I’ll check this one out."
He pushed open the door.
A Fire Dwarf stepped forward—immediately freezing Stuffed Bun in place. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened. His breath caught.
"Whoa…?"
"Is this… anime?"
No wonder he was stunned.
The Fire Dwarf before him defied every stereotype—no bushy beard, no hulking frame. Instead, he was delicate and striking: round face, large expressive eyes, slender and petite. He wore a tiny dress forged from copper, a bronze bowtie at his back, and twin bronze pigtails swaying with each step.
You call this a dwarf?
The legendary Copper-Forge Flame Spirit? This was clearly a Copper-Loli!
But then the dwarf spoke—his voice deep, rough, like crackling fire.
"You are… Stellarfallen?"
Gino’s expression darkened instantly, rage burning in his eyes.
Yet the fury on such a delicate face only made it more absurd.
"You want to ask why I look like this?" Stuffed Bun managed to suppress a laugh and nodded.
Gino roared, his voice thundering:
"It’s your kind’s fault!"
"A damned fool—yes, you—he stole the forging mold! He replaced it just to satisfy his sick fantasies! Now I’m this skinny, weak, ugly thing! I’ve been mocked since birth by my own kin! No strong body. No beard. Just… this!"
"He even said I’m adorable! That bastard—I’d smash his skull with a copper hammer if I could!"
"By Molradin, because of you, I’m the weakest, most disgraceful Fire Dwarf in a century!"
Pfft. Stuffed Bun couldn’t hold it in anymore—he burst out laughing.
"You’re laughing?!" The tiny, fiery-voiced dwarf glared, his expression fierce.
The image was impossible to resist: a raging voice from a cute little girl’s body.
After venting his rage, Gino crossed his arms, pouting. "Stellarfallen. What do you want?"
"I need a new lance. My old one’s gone." Stuffed Bun kept his tone calm.
Gino snorted coldly, turning his head away. "Find someone else. We don’t serve Stellarfallen here. I don’t serve you."
Stuffed Bun didn’t feel insulted. He still wanted to laugh.
A Fire Dwarf tsundere? This was perfect video material.
Not only could he get a weapon—he’d also get content.
Two birds, one stone.
Then he straightened, his expression serious.
"Look. We’re both Stellarfallen. But I’m not him. You’re punishing me for his mistake. That’s unfair. Are you really okay with everyone knowing Gino’s a petty dwarf?"
Gino lowered his head, fingers twisting together.
Silence. Long and heavy.
Finally, in a tiny voice:
"...You’re right."
"I’m sorry."
It was barely a whisper.
Fire Dwarves were honest and simple. They followed rules. They rarely lied. And when they erred, they admitted it.
"Exactly!" Stuffed Bun smiled warmly. "Mistakes happen. What matters is owning up to them. That’s how we grow—Armor Class is fixed by character, not by luck."
He turned to Gino, his voice rising with passion.
"Gino. You were born this way. Your appearance can’t be changed. But what about your inner self? Why not make it stronger?"
"Your worth isn’t defined by how you look."
Stuffed Bun placed a firm hand on the dwarf’s shoulder, eyes blazing.
"Beauty or ugliness—that’s not the point. What matters is the soul. You’re already different. So why not become great?"
He raised his hand toward the horizon, voice like thunder.
"I believe that even without a strong body, if you work hard, if you’re kind to others—you can become a legendary Fire Dwarf!"
"I… I believe you."
Gino clenched his tiny fist. This pure-hearted dwarf, untouched by such words before, was deeply moved.
If he weren’t a Fire Elemental creature, he might’ve cried.
"Stuffed Bun… you’re different. You’re a good Stellarfallen."
"I’ll make you the best gear in the world! Everyone will know—Gino can be great too!"
"Perfect!" Stuffed Bun grinned.
Two goals achieved.
Weapons? Check.
New video material? Double check.
This was pure gold.
Suddenly, the little dwarf tugged his sleeve, blushing.
"Um… you know… what you said… it really meant something."
"Do you… want to meet my friends? They’d love to craft gear for you."
"Of course!" Stuffed Bun turned—and froze.
Before him, a procession of Fire Dwarves approached, each more bizarre than the last.
One looked like a Mechanical Cat.
Another had a face like a Korean plastic surgery masterpiece.
One was molded into a Ultraman.
Another was clearly a Transformers figure.
The sheer variety made Stuffed Bun wonder if he’d accidentally logged into the wrong game.
Who in the world did this?!
What kind of monster created this?!
And yet… this dwarf’s tastes were wildly diverse.
"These are all victims of that scumbag Stellarfallen," Gino explained. "Because of their looks, they couldn’t fit into Fire Dwarf society."
"Whoa… that’s some unhinged creativity," Stuffed Bun muttered, half in awe, half in disbelief. He reached out.
"Wait—"
"Hmm?"
The little dwarf paused, eyes curious.
"Would you guys be interested in a new business? Like… tourist visits for Stellarfallen? Or paid photo sessions?"
---
Several days later.
Stuffed Bun emerged from the audience stand of the First Arena, his new gear gleaming. His face shone with pride.
Singo stared at his armor and the cold, sharp glint of his lance.
"You stole from the bank?"
"Stole? No! This is a gift from a friend!"
"Who’s this friend? How’d they make a Rare-quality weapon? It’s not magic-heavy, but the base stats are insane!"
Stuffed Bun paused, then said seriously:
"A little girl. A mechanical cat. A Korean plastic surgery face. A Transformer. Hatsune Miku."
Singo: "..."
Stuffed Bun chuckled.
"Never mind the details. Aren’t we here to watch the match?"
"Today’s got War Fury Brother in it, right?"
Singo remained calm.
"Not just Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang. A few other pro players are also fighting their final Preliminary matches. Perfect chance to test their true level."
"Where’s Qiu Yu?"
"She’s too popular in the stands. She’d get swarmed by fans—turn into an autograph session. I’ll just send her the recording."
"Nice." Stuffed Bun gave a thumbs-up.
Singo added:
"Unfortunately, none of the pros have shown their secret weapons yet."
"The Preliminary Tournament has too many participants. Rarely do top players face each other. Most matches are one-sided. Hardly any real insight."
"Especially the mages—Charlotte, for example. She’s been using nothing but Fireball Spells. No idea what else she’s got."
Stuffed Bun crossed his arms, slow and deliberate.
"Hardcore player, you’re still too cautious. I never care about my opponent’s stats."
"Let ‘em come. I’ll handle it. I don’t fear anyone."
Singo shot him a cold glance.
"Wait till you get beaten to pulp. Don’t come crying to the referee after you regret your choices."
The referee’s voice rang out.
"Match 12533: Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang."
"Glory belongs to Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang!"
"Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang—cut down everything!"
The audience erupted.
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang was a veteran pro—famous across games, even with his own fan club in Ailezegai.
"War Fury Brother’s here!" Stuffed Bun leaned forward, excitement in his eyes.
He’d rather watch others fight from the stands than be chased and blown up on the battlefield.
"Match 23335: Night Poet."
The name sent shockwaves through the crowd.
But this time, it wasn’t cheers—it was fury.
Players who’d been robbed by Night Poet were livid, ready to tear him apart.
"Damn it, black beast!"
"Finally, I’m a fan of War Fury Brother!"
"War Fury Brother, cut off that evil head full of poison!"
The referee urged them on.
Naked from the waist up, Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang stepped onto the field.
Night Poet, draped in a black robe, followed.
Singo leaned back, calm.
"Now this is interesting. I know Night Poet—he’s a monster. But he’s good at certain things."
Stuffed Bun raised an eyebrow.
"So War Fury Brother’s actually at risk?"
"Of course not. Just watch. You’ll see."
The referee’s command echoed through the arena.
"Match Begins!"
Night Poet, an 8th-level Rogue specializing in Thief, had already proven his skill. In his first two matches, he’d used Misty Step, combined with high Dexterity and Quick Hands, to outmaneuver opponents—stealing their gear with ease.
Now, he studied Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang.
"This one’s tough…"
"But legends like him must have great gear, right?"
"First, I’ll muddy the waters. Then, I’ll strike in the chaos."
He threw a smoke bomb.
The arena filled with thick, choking smoke.
"Damn it, black beast!"
"I can’t see a thing!"
"Of course—he’d sabotage the match!"
Suddenly, a roar tore through the smoke.
"AAAAAAH—!"
A massive pressure wave erupted from Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s position, scattering the smoke like dust. It blasted Night Poet back—his hands empty.
"What?!"
"He… he has no gear?!"
"Just that axe?!"
"Doesn’t matter. I’ve still got options."
From his long robe, Night Poet pulled out a barrage of weapons:
Smoke bombs, sonic boom bombs, disruption arrows, poison vials, enchanted scrolls—each one laced with deadly effects.
The sight made the kill credit reader’s skin crawl.
But he didn’t account for Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s Selfless Frenzy Path Trait—common among high-level Frenzied Warriors.
In his berserker state, he was nearly immune to all control effects.
Enemies had no chance.
"Die!"
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang raised his battle axe, eyes blood-red. His war cry echoed like thunder.
"Boom!"
Blood sprayed, soaking the black robe. The axe split the earth itself.
"Battle… so good!"
The audience stood in a frenzy—cheering not just for Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang’s power, but for the death of a certain black-hearted thief.
(End of Chapter)
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