Trailer

Ragu Kulman sat in a private box on the third level of Twin Towers Arena, looking down at the crowds entering beneath the blazing sun, his heart swelling with boundless satisfaction.

He opened a bottle of wine aged eighteen years, poured it into a goblet, and gently swirled it. He did not drink, believing it would impair his judgment, but he enjoyed the scent: sandalwood and dried tangerine peel blended with berries. It was the scent of success, and the scent of money.

"Dad, look, that's Teacher Toto!" His eight-year-old son clung to the railing, staring eagerly below. "Why aren't we sitting down there? Wouldn't we see better from there?"

"Oh, no, no, no. That is where inferior people belong. You should never be there."

Ragu stroked his son's head. Hadn't he struggled for all these years precisely so he could trample those people beneath his feet?

Like standing atop a factory and wantonly crushing the workers below—those who could only sell their labor, who cowered meekly and dared not resist.

"It's the latest Firepower Silver Lightning V!" His son pointed at the Magic Shadow short playing on the enormous screen. "I want one! Buy it for me!"

"Fine, no problem. You can have whatever you want."

He spoiled his child. More precisely, he cherished his own bloodline.

In his view, the fact that he had clawed his way out of utter poverty proved the superiority of his bloodline. It was his responsibility to pass that bloodline on.

And those who inherited his excellent bloodline, given better circumstances, would certainly achieve even greater things.

As for those inferior people with vile bloodlines, they were meant to be enslaved by people like him.

If his son had not liked yo-yos, he would never have come here.

Of course, he liked yo-yos too—especially the heaps of gold coins brought in by pirated yo-yos.

As far as he was concerned, he had used his own abilities to make counterfeits, so he deserved to earn that money. If Drogo’s Toy Store lacked the ability to stop him, that was their own problem. They deserved to be bullied.

If anyone dared counterfeit his potions, they would surely die without a burial place.

That was why inferior people were inferior people.

Besides all kinds of yo-yos, the screen also showed other advertisements.

This weapons factory, that shipping company...

His instincts told him this was a good business. He began calculating how to get his hands on the technology. It would be far more difficult than yo-yos, but the returns would certainly be much greater as well.

As long as the profits were sufficient, he would not hesitate to do anything.

Suddenly, the sky darkened.

Ragu looked up. It was not clouds blocking the sun, but a magical dark barrier covering the arena overhead.

What an extravagant move!

He was astonished. To achieve something on this scale with magic, either a large group of high-level mages had cast it together, or a legendary mage was present.

Either way, it was a force he could not afford to provoke.

Then two lines of text appeared on the screen.

"Holy Mountain Journey"

"Coming soon"

Was this Magic Shadow too? What did "coming soon" mean? Ragu found himself full of questions.

The image lit up, revealing a train.

The tens of thousands of spectators erupted in an uproar. Many recognized it as the Voyager, which had only begun operating not long ago.

Did it need advertising too? Was there anyone left in the Sutton Kingdom who did not know about that railway?

Then came scenes of all kinds of people aboard the train: a school club on an educational trip, a husband caring for his pregnant wife, a father traveling with his daughter.

When had they filmed on the train? Shouldn't reporters have already covered something like that?

Those people were like sharks that smelled blood whenever they encountered news. No matter what it was, they would rush in and take a bite first.

The other spectators in the arena clearly believed that the scenes had truly taken place aboard the Voyager.

Some even began boasting about their own train-riding experiences based on what they saw.

Then the scene abruptly changed, revealing the process of making healing potions.

Ragu was more familiar with those steps than anyone.

Seeing this, he realized that the footage might not be real.

If someone had entered his factory and filmed this without his knowledge, that would have been terrifying.

The scenes began switching back and forth between the potion-making process and the train, faster and faster. At the same time, hurried drumbeats sounded, making the audience tense along with them, as though something major could happen at any moment.

Thud!

With a dull impact, a passenger crashed heavily to the floor, and the drums stopped at the same instant.

The silence brought an even greater sense of urgency.

Under everyone's watchful gaze, the passenger slowly rose in an utterly bizarre posture. The moment his face was revealed, the entire arena gasped and cried out, but no one dared let the sounds fully escape.

Pale pupils, bulging veins, dark-red bloodstains—he did not look like a living person at all.

Before the audience could react, the mutated passenger lunged at the others. Frantic music began again, making it almost impossible to breathe.

One unimaginable scene after another flashed past.

Mountains of piled corpses, surging tides of corpses, countless zombies rising again after death...

It was a disaster scene as though demons had invaded.

The audience, who had never experienced such a visual assault before, could not accept it for a time. Screams and sobs filled the entire arena.

Ragu's son was terrified senseless, staring blankly as he collapsed onto the floor.

Some people tried to find a rational explanation for the incomprehensible scenes.

"It's necromancers! It must be necromancers! Those lunatics are behind all of this! Necromancy should be banned!"

"It has to be demons. Someone made a deal with demons, and now they've come to collect their payment. No one can escape. No one can escape..."

Others began to pray, hoping to seek the gods' help.

Some went even further, directly chanting spells to prepare magic, only to have their power blocked by mana from who knew where. That plunged them into even greater panic.

Just as the scene was about to descend into chaos, the sky suddenly brightened. The dark barrier dissipated, and sunlight shone in again, dispelling most of the fear.

The footage on the screen also reached its end, and several lines of text appeared.

"How will they survive?"

"The final battle for survival!"

"Thrilling disaster Magic Shadow Holy Mountain Journey"

"One week from now. See you there."

"Coming soon..."

The spectators slowly quieted down. They realized it was the same kind of thing as the yo-yo shorts made by the half-elf, and soon began feeling ashamed of how badly they had lost control.

Ragu came back to his senses. Even though he had seen plenty of grand occasions, he could not remain calm.

A merchant's instincts quickly made him realize that the profits contained in this thing were likely far, far greater than he had imagined before.

He had to find a way to get it.

How had they created those scenes? Even the finest illusionist, if Lady Uman herself came in person, probably could not have done it.

More information appeared on the screen.

"Produced by Drogo Film Studio"

"Hm?"

Ragu narrowed his eyes. Could this Drogo Film Studio belong to the same people as Drogo’s Toy Store?

He had originally been delighted that his healing potions had appeared in it. Holy Mountain Journey was destined to cause an enormous sensation, and his potion factory could benefit from the attention as well.

Now, that was harder to say.

But what could they possibly do to a healing potion?

For the moment, he could not think of anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone in a box on the other side waving at him.

When he turned to look, he recognized Aisha Stone—the toy store owner whom he considered incapable of resisting, someone destined to remain inferior.

Yet she was smiling and waving at him, her smile brimming with mockery.

When she saw him looking over, Aisha's smile grew even more brazen. She held her thumb to her throat and slowly drew it across.

A threat. A naked, undisguised threat!

But more infuriating than the threat itself was the fact that Ragu did not even know what he was supposed to guard against.

What exactly did her threat mean?