122 The enemy forces will arrive on the battlefield in one more chapter.

Ilsen read the words on the scrap of paper, stunned for a moment, his expression one of mild astonishment. Then, doubting his own eyes, he rubbed them vigorously and reread every word with meticulous care. His confusion and surprise quickly escalated until they erupted into a shriek.

"My lord! How could you do this? Such a thing has never even been heard of in Sakaar!"

"Well, you certainly wouldn't have heard of it in Sakaar, because it’s my invention." Joss showed no interest in his reaction, nodding faintly as he buried his head in his notes, mapping out the subsequent stages of the auditions.

"No, no, no! My lord, this is absolutely insane. The meaning of this... you’re looking for laborers, aren't you?" Ilson stared at the paper as if looking at a spendthrift heir, gesticulating wildly.

The text on the paper was simple: in three days, a recruitment drive would be held at this location. Anyone who showed up and made it through the first round of selection would receive a whole loaf of bread, with even better rewards awaiting those who passed.

"These people would go to the radiation lakes and dig up scrap metal for you for a piece of bread the size of a fingertip! How can you offer such an extravagant reward?" Fearing Joss might not believe him, Ilson waved his slender, delicate fingers in front of Joss’s face.

Seeing fingers more feminine than a woman’s only confirmed to Joss that his choice had been the right one.

After a brief sigh, Joss felt no urge to explain. After all, this was a matter of clashing worldviews; short of using brute force, he would just have to let Ilson adapt on his own.

"That's enough. I hired you to work, not to question me. Follow my instructions, get the job done, and your rewards will be plenty."

"But, my lord..."

"Enough with the 'buts.' Get out of here, or I’ll start throwing punches!" Joss had always detested naggers; they reminded him of the dim-witted relatives he’d encountered back home who did nothing but pester him about getting married.

Seeing that Joss was beyond negotiation, Ilson could only sigh and turn to leave.

"Wait!" But just as Ilson reached the door, Joss’s voice rang out again.

"My lord? Have you finally had a change of heart?"

"That has nothing to do with it. From today on, don't call me 'my lord.' From now on, call me 'Producer,' understood? Also, stop using the name Ilson in public. Your stage name is now Renta Astolfo Hideyoshi. And remember to wash yourself a bit before you start working."

After this string of instructions, Joss, fearing that this mystery chatterbox would continue to drone on, simply hauled him to the door and tossed him out.

Staring at the now-closed door, Ilson felt a genuine sense of distress. If he spent more time with Joss, he might eventually understand that this specific sensation was known as "blue balls."

He felt a sting of pain at the thought of such resources being given away, though since they weren't his, there was no reason for him to be this agitated. However, Joss’s actions were bound to invite unnecessary trouble. Although Ilson had never heard the phrase "wealth should not be flaunted," his years as a scavenger had taught him the truth of it quite clearly. If Joss broadcast this message, it was hard to say how many people would come to audition for this "idol" thing, but there would certainly be a horde of people coming to rob him.

"Is he that confident in his own strength? No, even he couldn't handle that many people alone. Especially if he puts out news like this—even the big gangs will move against him..."

Although he had witnessed Joss’s prowess, the man was still human; he wasn't so powerful that he was entirely invincible. If he encountered a stronger gang or a superior warrior, he would likely be killed.

Ilson was deeply worried. It wasn't that he was particularly loyal to Joss, but Joss had told him that the "Three-Corpse Brain-Control Pill" he had been fed would kill him if he didn't take the antidote regularly. If Joss were killed, wouldn't he be dragged down with him?

Yet, if he didn't do as he was told, the result would be the same. With this thought, Ilson’s mood grew even more complicated, and he could only head out to do his bidding with a heavy sigh.

...

As news of the "Sakaar Idol Project" auditions spread, it didn't take long for even the scavengers in the most remote regions to hear the word.

In any case, a local snake like Ilson was far more efficient at getting things done than Joss would have been. Though, a large part of it was that the conditions Joss offered were too generous—comparable to the benefits of being a gladiator in the Grandmaster’s arena, yet without the requirement of fighting for one’s life.

For this group of people living on the edge of a desperate cliff, the temptation of a full stomach was impossible to resist, even if they suspected a trap or some other danger.

Thus, once the news broke, it spread with the terrifying, geometric growth of cancer cells. At first, those who spread the word might have done so with a sense of irony—after all, in their experience, no one in Sakaar would pull such a stupid stunt. But when an entire street, an entire district, and an entire city were talking about it, people realized something was wrong.

More and more people gathered. Among them were individuals Ilson had seen from afar and reflexively run from, now arriving in the city center fully armed. Everyone knew that as long as they didn't cause trouble right in front of the Grandmaster, he wouldn't care what they were doing, so the people gathering here grew increasingly reckless.

"Hey, hey, I'm asking if the location for that, uh, project is right here?" A man with a bulky frame and hair emitting an eerie green glow pointed at a map.

"That's right. I verified the address specifically. It points here. Is there a problem?" a hideous, strange-looking woman beside him nodded.

Dozens of other scavengers were with them. Others kept their distance, for this was the notorious local gang known as [VB].

"Heh heh heh... Honey, why must we wait for the start time? If we kill him now, won't there be no one left to fight us for the goods?" The green-haired brute sneered, making a throat-slitting gesture at his crew.