Release that Witch

Chapter 1143: The Difference between Martialists

Translator: Transn Editor: Transn

As one night in the Dream World was equal to two days in the real world, Roland took the three witches to Crown Hotel the next day evening.

"Your Majesty, is it true that we can eat whatever we want there?" Dawnen asked as she poked her head out of the rear window of his car, her eyes sparkling.

"Of course. It’s not that different from the party held by nobles. You should have attended many such parties back in the Union age, right?"

"But you couldn’t eat whatever you want at those parties."

"Really?" Roland asked with curiosity.

"Yes," Saint Miran, who was sitting in the passenger seat, supplied the answer with a nod. "Those parties were for prominent figures. They cared more about networking than the feast. Nobody wanted to talk to a person wolfing down food like a savage. You’d become a laughingtock if you did so. If it was a big party, most people would eat something first before going." She swallowed hard and then said, "If Your Majesty fears that we will disgrace you, we’ll restrain ourselves."

Roland was amused at the looks of the witches sitting in the back, who were not able to disguise their eagerness in time. He laughed, "Don’t worry. I always keep my words. This isn’t the Union. You aren’t in the king’s city either. We’re all just normal people. As long as you don’t make trouble, eat whatever you like."

"Can... can I bring some food back?" Dido asked with excitement. "Many of my friends wished to attend this first class party."

"Make sure nobody sees you doing that," Roland replied indifferently. "Stay close when we get there. If someone approaches you, don’t get involved in a conversation. Let me deal with them."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the three witches chorused.

Around half an hour later, Roland and his party reached their destination.

Roland immediately understood this was a first-rate party. The vehicles parked in front of the hotel were, without exception, luxurious cars. Their car paint reflected off the lights in the city and formed a glaring contrast between them and Roland’s shabby little van.

Although martialists earned a lot of money, they were still not able to compare to real capitalists. To avoid unwelcome attraction, Roland had bought the most common van available on the market. He had not anticipated, however, that his van would become the most eye-catching vehicle among all the fancy cars.

"Sir, the hotel is reserved today. Do you have an invitation card?" A waiter came up to Roland after he parked his car.

Roland produced the card Garcia had given him from his pocket and brandished it triumphantly.

"Welcome to Crown Hotel. The meeting room is on the top floor. A customer representative will soon receive you." The waiter then summoned a smile and said, "I’ll take care of your vehicle."

Roland did not care what the waiter actually thought of him, but he had to admit that this was really great service.

He led the witches into the splendid hotel hall. To Roland’s surprise, they didn’t seem interested in this magnificent building. Perhaps, they had seen architecture like this illuminated by Stones of Lighting many times back in the Taquila age. The chandelier dangling from the ceiling, for instance, was probably nothing special to the Three Chiefs.

Roland found it a little amusing to notice that these three witches were more awestruck by some cakes than the spectacular hotel interior. Their extremely beautiful appearances, however, soon attracted a lot of people. It seemed that no matter what world he was living in, witches were always going to be the focus of attention.

The customer representative went through a series of security check. He first scanned Roland’s invitation card and then reported to someone over his walkie-talkie. Finally, he returned the card to Roland and said, "Mr. Roland, sorry for the wait. May I know who these three ladies are..."

"Cousins," Roand said while shrugging. "Garcia told me that family members are allowed here."

"I see. Please come this way."

The customer service representative guided them to an elevator, pushed the button to the top floor, and then bowed courteously outside the elevator. "I wish you a good evening."

The wall around them soon sank rapidly. A sinking sun diffused its perpetual splendor into the elevator. A dense group of high-rise buildings slid into their sights and formed a forest of walls in the far distance.

The witches finally uttered exclamations of surprise.

"This is even bigger than three Holy Cities put together," Dawnen muttered. "I can’t believe mortals built all these without using any magic."

"The Miracle Building you want to build is also in memory of this world, right?" Saint Miran asked Roland.

Roland smiled. Although nobody except Anna knew where he truly came from, the Taquila witches had already reached a mutual understanding that Roland came from a world similar to this Dream World. This seemed to be the only plausible explanation as to why he was so familiar with this world.

After they reached the top floor, the huge round-shaped meeting room materialized in front of them.

Its wall and ceiling were all made of glass. The entire city was dwarfed beneath them through these windows. Roland was mildly impressed with the enormous financial capacity of the Clover Group.

A variety of delicious food was beautifully displayed on plates, including appetitzers, desserts, fruits, and champagne towers. There were several hundred guests at the party that formed tight knots throughout the top floor. Apparently, not only martialists but also eminent political figures and businessmen had been invited.

Roland was now very used to this type of situation. The witches, on the other hand, ran straight to the food at the back of the hall.

"Wow... the fish here is so tender. It feels like it’s going to melt in my mouth."

"Are these really grapes? Wow, I haven’t had such sweet grapes in so long..."

"Rubbish. You just visited the Dream World last month."

"But I ate fast food last time. Elena only knows KFC and McDonald’s."

"Hey, remember that we have to also put some food in Dido’s bag to bring something back for the others."

Roland looked at the witches who practically salivating at the sight of the delicacies and shook his head in amusement. He suddenly felt that even if he could not benefit from anything in the Dream World, he should at least make this Dream World continue to exist. For him, this was just a world existing in his dream. However, for the Taquila witches, this was the only place where they felt alive.

They could get compensated here for everything they had lost from the battle with the demons, including the enjoyment of life and mundane pleasures.

Roland started to study the guests intently before the party officially started.

There were two types of guests in the hall. The ones in business attires were clearly important public figures, whereas those wearing robes were martialists from the Association. Although there were exceptions, he, for example, was wearing a suit. Nobody was in outlandish clothes like the last time he had visited Prism City.

Was this the difference between a professional and an amateur?

He somehow remembered what Garcia had once told him.

"Although the Martialist Association is dedicated to saving the world, it’s hard to persuade people to work for them with just a vague envision of the future. That’s why we started to hold the martialist contest. The contest only has a short history of 50 years, but it has now become the most popular sporting event. Many awakened martialists gained publicity, fame, and wealth through this contest. On the other hand, the Association also recruits many new talents through the competition. The contest thus plays an increasingly important role in the Association. Outstanding contestants are involved in the decision-making process. Because of this change, a rift began to grow among the executives. Gradually, members are divided into two cliques. Nevertheless, this disagreement doesn’t impact the contest at all. In fact, the event attracts even more attention."

At that time, Roland favored the more conservative party. Since the martialists’ real enemy were the Fallen Evils, the battle against those Fallen Evils must be far more cruel than some sport game. A contest was a good way to recruit new people, but it was essentially not the same as a battle of life and death. Roland did not get why some executives failed to undertand this.

Yet when he entered the hall, he suddenly understood the reason.

Both the members of the Association who participated in the contest and the amateurs were defiant brutes that were nothing next to professional, well-educated martialists. Since not everyone would have a chance to fight against the Fallen Evils and, as the battle was often quite intense, more and more people swung to the new party.

Roland believed that the conservative party would only be able to regain its power after what Lan referred to as "erosion" occurred.

Roland twitched his lips at the thought of his hunting license. He had always thought it very strange to license a new martialist. Even though he was an active member, he did not think he was good enough to be one of the top 100 in the Association. Now it dawned on him why the excutives licensed him. They viewed him as an ideal old-school martialist who was only seeking the Fallen Evils instead of fame and popularity.

Was this the reason that the conservative party asked him to be their representative?

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