The Flying Emporium

The reception of the show was mixed, controversial even.

First were the non-adventurers. To them, this last submission just didn’t have quite the same appeal as the previous ones. Sure, none of them was bored to the point where they would fall asleep in their seats, but as those people didn’t much benefit from the educational aspects of those guides, they also didn’t quite care about those. For them, it was all about the entertainment value. The visceral action. The flying fireballs. The clash of weapons. The battle for life and death. And loot. Everything that allowed those people, who would likely never set a foot into a dungeon themselves, to get a feeling of what it was like to be an adventurer. This last show didn’t really have any of those things.

What they had seen on the big screen seemed more like a leisure stroll through a forest than the conquering of a dangerous dungeon; it almost made them feel cheated.

Then there were the inexperienced, low-level adventurers, clearly the target audience of this last submission. Those didn’t share that sentiment. They were thrilled.

People their own level, if not lower, had just cleared a whole dungeon. In record time. And they made it look easy. No, they didn’t just made it look easy. With the right approach, it was easy.

Compared to all the other previous instructional videos, this one was on a whole different level.

Not that the previous ones had been useless–all those strategies these veteran adventures had introduced would also lead to success, no doubt about that.

But knowing an enemy’s attack patterns, their timings, and weak points and actually being able to remember and exploit those, in the midst of combat, were two very different things.

That wasn’t to say it was impossible, but why take the risk when now there was a safe and easy alternative?

And lastly, there was the remainder of the audience, the vast majority in fact, composed of the more experienced adventurers of silver rank and above.

It was withing this group that a great divide revealed itself after the broadcast, splitting the audience into effectively two major camps.

The trivialization of a whole dungeon bore a very real danger, claimed the first of those groups, one that would ultimately lead to the demise of a whole generation of new adventurers.

After all, they argued, it was the bronze stage which was the most important and would decide their future. It was during that time that adventurers learned the ropes of the trade. Becoming familiar with their own abilities. Learning how to coordinate with other people. Learning how to dealing with danger. And with the mental stress that came with it. Being a bronze rank was all about learning what it meant to be an adventurer. It was about getting to know oneself and one’s limits.

In an environment that was still comparatively risk free.

Taking shortcuts during this formative stage would not just be negligent, but straight up inviting death. To themselves, but also to their future group members who would entrust them with their own lives.

People who took the easy way out and advanced their rank with cheap tricks like this would be no different from people who straight-up faked their rank, they argued.

The other half of the audience didn’t see it quite as narrow and took a somewhat more liberal stance regarding this matter.

That didn’t mean they denied there was some truth to those arguments, but they argued it very unlikely that anyone relying solely on such a strategy would ever make it beyond the bronze rank in the first place.

Instead, they praised the creativity and adaptability these newbies displayed, characteristics which were important for any adventurer, but which were often times neglected exactly because many chose to mindlessly follow the footsteps of their predecessors. A deviation from that pattern should be lauded, not condemned.

Heated discussions, not all of which civil, broke out all over, with both sites involved soon pointing towards the Society to issue a statement. One way or the other.

These were, of course, expectations that could not be fulfilled at such short notice; even if Magda, administrator of the local branch office of the Society, had the authority to do so.

Either way, with how upset a large portion of the audience was, it had become impossible for the show to continue as planned. Even all of Jake’s pleas fell on deaf ears.

And so, behind the scenes, it was soon agreed upon an out-of-schedule break to give the people a chance to calm down at least a bit. Not just because as things stood, no one would be able to enjoy the continuation of the show, but also because this was, after all, still a competition with its participants wooing for votes; proceeding under these circumstances would only serve to undermine the legitimacy of the competition as a whole.

Severin didn’t care about any of this.

If anything, he was grateful for the delay. Any interruption bought him just that much more time before he had to reopen his store and resume business as usual.

With otherwise no particularly vested interest in the matter, Severin soon took to observing his surroundings and the reactions of the people closest to him.

Similar to himself, Emily didn’t seem to especially mind or even understand what all that ruckus was about. To her, this prolonged break was simply a perfect opportunity to go and replenish her snacks.

Magda had long disappeared into her office and Severin could only imagine the headache she was feeling right now. He was confident in his assumption that the chubby woman would be busy for quite some while.

Then there were Mylana and Samuel. While the latter seemed deep in thought, the former looked like she couldn’t care less about such matters. If anything, she appeared somewhat annoyed at the interruption.

Jasmine was the complete opposite. Not only did she seem very pleased with the sudden development, but when her eyes met Severin’s, the [Shopkeeper] could have sworn the [Princess] was gloating.

Severin dismissed the feeling as a fragment of his imagination and kept observing.

Bandur still was missing, he realized, even on this second day, and Timothy and Miriam seemed overly eager for the show to continue.

When the audience had somewhat calmed down and the show continued roughly half an hour after the impromptu break, Severin understood why.

The next submission showed a certain young woman imparting some of her insights and intimate knowledge of the [Berserker] class. A class that was relatively common but difficult and dangerous to master due to the inherently reckless and, at times, even self-harming fighting style, it promoted.

In the grand scheme of things, the reception was very modest. Even after some time had passed, enough for people to cool down, the audience was still restless. Not everyone was paying their full attention.

Also, it was a very specific, niche type of content. Much more so than the previous guides. The only people who would actually appreciate this contribution were naturally fellow [Berserkers], which, in the grand scheme of things, still only made up a fraction of the audience. Amongst the [Berserkers] present, however, the young woman’s explanations were very well appreciated. And to the woman, that was all that counted. Following the screening of her submission, the female [Berserker] sitting in the audience was very pleased with herself. The smile that adorned her face was big, confident, and content.

And short-lived.

...

“And this, fellow spell casters, is how you beat a [Berserker] in a duel,” were the boy’s parting words.

The applause was even more restrained than after the last performance. With how rarely adventurers actually dueled each other, paired with the fact of how weak those [Berserker’s] usually were, who would need an instructional guide to fight them?

The young man, however, wasn’t fazed in the slightest. Timothy was beaming as if he had just won the whole of the event. A stark contrast to Miriam sitting next to him, whose expression in a matter of minutes, had twisted into an unsightly grimace.