Despite being surrounded by water on all sides, neither Marcus nor the Legionnaires that accompanied him deemed it bath-worthy. It had already been of questionable cleanliness before their fight, and now that it had been turned into kraken soup? No one wanted to touch it more than absolutely necessary, especially not after smelling the men who had been pulled out.

As Marcus lay there, catching his breath, he stared up at the domed ceiling. With his luck, it would only be a matter of moments before the next calamity befell them. What would it be this time? An adult kraken? A dozen ships? Maybe there had been a giant turtle hiding below them this whole time.

Another series of trumpets sounded. The sound caused their entire group to tense, heads swiveling to scan for threats. Yet compared to before, the trumpets’ melody sounded different. The series of ascending notes had an almost victorious quality to them.

As the melody ended, the boat began to shift. The water around them swirled in a series of regularly spaced whirlpools. Yet rather than revealing some collection of eldritch horrors, the whirlpools began to drain the arena. The water level gradually fell over the course of several minutes before the boat touched down on wet sand.

With an effort, the mostly recovered Marcus heaved himself upright and followed the Legionnaires out of the boat, his legs wobbling slightly on the stable ground. Now that he was only damp instead of sopping wet, he accepted his belongings from the man who’d been holding them, doing his best to keep them away from his body.

The group arranged itself in a defensive formation, still wary of additional threats. Fortunately, none came. They made their way to the edge of the arena uncontested and found the barrier had dissipated. The men hopped over the wall and found themselves faced with a crowd of cheering Legionnaires slapping their backs heartily.

“An excellent fight!” One shouted enthusiastically. “That was better than any gladiator match I’ve seen in my lifetime!”

Another chimed in with a hearty laugh. “I’ll say! Even our bard friend managed to look good, there!”

He slapped Marcus on the back, the force of the blow sending him stumbling forward. The bard winced and straightened. “Excuse me! You say that as though I don’t always look good, Aurelius.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but…” Aurelius gestured to Marcus’s damp form. “Right now? You look kind of like shit.”

A few of the other men nodded in agreement as Marcus sighed. “That’s hardly my fault. If this idiot knew how to swim, I wouldn’t have needed to plunge into those ghastly waters. My eyes still sting from that.”

“Yeah, what the blazes was that Augustus? You looked like a damn chicken with its head cut off out there!”

“I… Er…” Augustus had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “I… have never been great at swimming.”

“Great? You looked like that was the first time you’d ever touched water! What, did Neptune curse your mother to birth an inept son?”

The jabs and ribbing continued for a while longer before Gaius called for the Legionnaires’ attention. “All right. Enough chatting. We still need to finish surveying the area. Now that we know there are dangers lurkings, we’ll move in groups and with extra caution. Understood?”

The men saluted, ceasing their banter to continue with their mission. In the meantime, Marcus considered the fight. Given the sheer level of their enemy, he was all but certain killing it had earned him a level. Maybe even more, considering the circumstances. He’d need to check the class stone as soon as they returned.

That wasn’t the only thing he’d gained from the battle, however. His in-progress epic covering the escapades of the Legion always needed new vignettes and supplementary tales to add to the main storyline. And this? The story of ten men fighting off a kraken? This was exactly the kind of thing people ate up in tales about legendary heroes. And since he’d experienced it firsthand, he had unique insights into this particular battle.

Of course, some of those insights he could have done without. He would have much preferred to be a spectator rather than a combatant. But now that he had the experience, he might as well put it to use. Especially if it could elevate the story and make it worth even more experience.

Either way, one thing was certain. Once again, sticking with the Legion was paying off in spades. If this growth kept up, then he’d be the highest level bard in Novara before long.

Before the men completely dispersed, there was one minor matter to discuss. Stepping forward, he called out to one group in particular.

“So… I’m not sure what your custom is, but around here, you generally tip your performers,” he said with a flourishing bow. “And considering that some of you seem to have found yourselves flush with extra coin…”

The soldiers groaned.

***

They stuck around the ruins for a few more hours, exploring other sections of the amphitheater and finding a few more easily accessible rooms. During that time, they found a few more things of interest.

There were a few old weapons that looked relatively unremarkable to him—basic swords and a couple of spears. Yet the Legionnaires that touched them claimed that they felt something strange within the rather standard-looking metal.

Marcus promised that he would try to use [Appraisal] on them later when he wasn’t so exhausted, but made no guarantees as to its results. He was far more used to using the skill on people and creatures, after all. Even if he came up with little of interest, he was certain that someone would be able to provide some insight into the things.

This narrative has been purloined without the author’s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He also found a few dry and dusty tomes that had somehow survived the ravages of time, if barely. One of them looked to be a logbook of some sort, but it was difficult to tell based on how much the writing itself had faded. With the right class and skills, the contents would probably be recoverable. But neither Marcus nor any of the Legionnaires specialized in ancient book repair. For now, it was something that they would just have to hold on to.

Once they returned to Habersville, Gaius immediately went to report their findings. Marcus, however, had no such obligations. He made a beeline through the gates and toward the class stone. The Legionnaires might have been able to outmarch him on open ground, but in short bursts of speed? Well, his dexterity certainly gave him a boost in that area.

It didn’t come without a cost, however. Between the fighting, the march back, and his final sprint, Marcus felt ready to collapse by the time he reached the class stone. Still, he couldn’t bear to wait. He laid his hand on the black obelisk and saw stats unfurl in front of him.

Information:

Name: Marcus Silvanus D’Angelo

Age: 23

Class: Royal Bard (Rare)

Level: 24

Experience: 47 / 2,400

Stats:

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 32

Constitution: 6

Charisma: 60

Wisdom: 13

Intelligence: 11

Free Points: 2

Titles:

Chronicler of Novara

Dashing Dastard

Traveler of Novara

Harbinger of Rome

Crowd Favorite

Skills:

[Charm] (Uncommon) – Lvl 28

[Silver Tongue] (Epic) – Lvl 5

[Appraisal] (Uncommon) – Lvl 27

[Sleight of Hand] (Common) – Lvl 47

[Inspirational Song] (Rare) – Lvl 7

[Critical Reception] (Rare) – Lvl 9

[Spellcraft] (Uncommon) – Lvl 5

[Glamor] (Uncommon) – Lvl 28

[Dagger Proficiency] (Common) – Lvl 4

[Camping] (Common) – Lvl 2

Marcus’s eyes widened. He had gained not one, but two levels since he had last checked. Not only that, but he’d picked up a new title as well.

Before doing anything else, he quickly dumped all his free points into charisma. Then he examined the new title.

[Crowd Favorite: For the purpose of entertaining others win a life or death battle in the arena with more than 100 members in the audience. +X% to Charisma and Strength when fighting in front of an audience, where X scales with the enthusiasm of the audience.]

After reading the title, a few things became clear to Marcus. The first was why he was just receiving it now instead of at any other point during his long and impressive career of performances. He’d been a crowd favorite any number of times, and hadn’t heard of this title before anyway. What reason did the System have to hold out on him like that?

Evidently, there was a good reason. This was a title not for a performer, but for a fighter who also happened to perform. Of course he wouldn’t have heard of it.

The first part, however, gave him pause. A sanctioned arena bout? They’d fought some automatons and a giant octopus in the ruins of some arena. How did that count as a sanctioned bout? Perhaps there was more to that amphitheater than they’d thought.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile. Though he didn’t intend to use this particular title much, he certainly wouldn’t complain about having it. Especially not if he could find some way to put it to use in his own performances.

Finally, he looked over his skills. The levels he’d gained in his rare skill were an especially welcome sight. However, reviewing the ones he had equipped reminded him of one other matter he’d been meaning to tend to—his emergency skills.

[Dagger Proficiency] and [Camping] were not skills that he particularly wanted to keep. He’d only picked them up as extra insurance while he was on the run. Luckily, he hadn’t needed to use either particularly often, as evidenced by their low levels for common skills.

But he wasn’t on the run any longer. Furthermore, if any of the king’s men attempted to apprehend him, they’d have to make it through an army of Legionnaires first. Of course, he didn’t expect the soldiers to rally to his defense like they would for one of their brethren. But he’d made enough friends and proved his usefulness enough that he was confident they wouldn’t just give him up easily. If nothing else, protecting one of their assets would probably be a point of pride.

All that to say that those two skills had become essentially irrelevant. Which meant that he could once again afford to switch them out for something more useful.

Marcus opened his skill list and considered the options. His first instinct was to pick up the skills he’d initially dropped, but that simply wouldn’t make sense. As much as the Romans called themselves an empire, they still lacked a proper court like he was used to. Until that changed, any skills related to favor-currying and political intrigue would likely see as much use as [Camping] had.

The newer skills he’d been offered didn’t look much more promising, though he took the time to quickly slot them anyway to preserve them in his list. [Lifeguard] and [Spear Proficiency] in particular had clearly been earned from his earlier battle. Instead, he looked over some of the older skills.

It didn’t take long for him to settle on his first skill: [Disappearing Act]. It was a skill he’d earned in his younger years after a fair amount of dodging jilted lovers of the women he’d become acquainted with. The skill helped him to identify escape routes and hiding places when danger lurked nearby.

It was one of the skills he’d considered when first becoming a fugitive, but honestly? Even a semi-competent tracker or even a town guard was likely to be able to combat it at a low level. Plus, although it would help him with making an escape, it wouldn’t do much to keep pursuers off his tail for any extended period of time.

[Congratulations! You have assigned the skill [Disappearing Act] (Uncommon) – Lvl 0.]

Slotting the skill, Marcus returned his attention to the list. He had one more slot to fill. What should he take? Something to enhance his performances? Something to protect himself in combat? Perhaps a skill that would enhance his impressive people skills even further?

Marcus closed his eyes and sighed. The smart thing would be to shore up his weaknesses. He could use this final skill to bolster his abilities in an area that he had been and would continue to utilize frequently. As much as he loathed it.

Really, the answer was obvious. He just didn’t want to see it.

[Congratulations! You have assigned the skill [Running] (Common) – Lvl 0.]

As much as he hated to admit it, his inability to keep up with the Legion was becoming a real problem. How was he supposed to turn their exploits into songs if he was too slow to observe them? They simply marched too fast.

He had a few other skills that might improve his short distance mobility, but past that? [Running] was just about the only thing he had right now that could help him keep up. Especially since he refused to learn [Marching].

With that, Marcus stepped back from the class stone. The day’s activities had truly exhausted him. But before he could rest, there was one more thing he needed—a nice bath.

Turning toward the bathhouses, he forced his wobbling legs into a jog. His skill was only level zero, after all. Best to start training it up as soon as he could.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep