Minori didn't intend to wait there foolishly.
Sitting in the outermost seats of the massive coliseum, he had no idea when he'd be able to leave. The duel between Gazef and Brain was long over, but the crowd's excitement had yet to die down. If anything, it had intensified—buzzing like an anthill freshly kicked.
It took nearly twenty minutes just to squeeze through the congested corridors of the ancient arena and finally make it outside.
And even then, the crowd hadn't thinned. It had just... shifted.
The open space beyond the stone archways was jammed with spectators who hadn't been able to afford admission but still hung around for the outcome. Supporters of both warriors filled the plaza, engaged in feverish debate and shouting matches. This battle had been more than just steel on steel—it was the first time in the [Imperial Tournament] that two commoners, not nobles, had made it to the final round.
It was a slap in the face to the aristocracy.
But to the common folk, it was something else entirely.
A surge in the crowd snapped Minori out of his thoughts.
"Look! It's Red Drop!"
Heads turned. Excited gasps rippled outward as the people instinctively made room, parting like the tide.
Minori raised an eyebrow. Red Drop, huh?
Walking at the front was a man with blond, shoulder-length hair and a thin red streak trailing from his bangs. His noble-style outfit—a black coat with a red inner lining and silver-trimmed trousers—gave off a lazily refined charm. He waved casually at the crowd, and the cheer from the nearby women grew deafening.
Azuth Aindra.
Minori's gaze sharpened.
Captain of Red Drop, one of the only two Adamantite-ranked adventurer teams in the Re-Estize Kingdom. A noble, yes, but more importantly, a man who wielded something that had no business existing in this world.
Power Armor. An enchanted suit that spiked his combat potential to around level 51.
Azuth's actual skill might not reach hero-tier, but with that gear, he was easily among the top-tier human fighters. Not because he was the strongest—but because his equipment made him dangerous.
The origin of that suit? Unknown.
"Player relic, no doubt..." Minori muttered under his breath. "But which faction? The Six Great Gods? The Eight Greed Kings? Or maybe even a Thirteen Hero?"
Only Azuth knew.
Aside from Azuth, the rest of Red Drop remained a mystery—even in the source material. The others walking behind him might have been his teammates, or bodyguards, or something else entirely.
There was a man in shining silver armor carrying a greatsword, his face unreadable. Another in a pale blue mage's robe that concealed everything but a few fingers and boots. A longbow-wielder with a faint grey glow around his weapon. And finally, a short, forgettable man whose plain appearance and unremarkable gear screamed "thief" to Minori's instincts.
The less presence someone had… the more cautious you had to be around them.
The whole group passed by with an air of nobility and purpose, followed closely by several other adventurer teams. Minori thought he might catch sight of Blue Rose, the other Adamantite group, but they were nowhere to be seen. These other teams were likely Orichalcum or Mithril-ranked, judging by the excitement they caused in the crowd.
The duel had drawn out all the heavy hitters, it seemed.
Minori turned, finally ready to leave.
And then—he froze.
Just out of the corner of his eye, another group was making their way out. A party of four. Two men, two women.
But it was the women who stood out like a splash of paint on canvas.
The one in front wore full-body armor, black hair cascading behind her, blue eyes cold and unreadable. The other wore cleric's garb—though 'cleric' was generous. The outfit was scandalously high-cut, slitted like a cheongsam to reveal black thigh-highs and combat boots beneath the white vestments. Pink hair spilled over her shoulders, bouncing with every step.
It was a look designed to draw eyes—and it worked.
Minori squinted. "If I'm not mistaken... that's the [Four Armaments]."
A relatively unknown team at this stage, but destined to become a Mithril-ranked group later.
He eyed the black-haired knight with renewed focus.
In the future, she'd be recognized by her white hair, dyed to match the image of [Darkness], the alias of Ainz's undercover Adamantite team. But in truth, her natural hair color was blond—faint golden roots peeked out under the black.
They dyed their hair for marketing. Black for mystique, white for recognition. All of it to ride the Bone King's coattails when he formed [Pitch-Black].
Minori couldn't help but feel a little suspicious. Could they have made it to Mithril on merit alone?
Well—maybe. After all, they did eventually take on a Death Knight.
"Still..." Minori muttered, gaze slipping toward the pink-haired cleric and her impractical outfit. "Between the showboating priestess and the marketing knight, I'm not sure either of them is normal."
As for the two men behind them?
Minori stared blankly.
"…No impression whatsoever."