Chapter 313
Translator: Yang_Wenli
The four demons had been Prophet’s students for a very long ti.
The four of them had a common ground — they were born impoverished and had all experienced tragic childhoods.
Even though one of them was a vampire, that child was deed as a cursed blood.
Because of that, after the four of them were taken in by Prophet, they gained individuality in the Demon Realm and started to diligently study the teachings from Prophet.
They’ve always held Prophet to be the most wise and farsighted person in the Demon Realm. Even though this sage had the look of a young child, a look completely different from people’s impression of her, the four of them would always tense up their body and focus their attention the mont Prophet asked them questions.
Unfortunately, due to being in the theater, three of the students did not manage to clearly hear Prophet’s question.
The rcenary performing on the stage of the World’s Singers was simply too ‘absorbed’ in his singing. But, to many people, that rcenary was not singing at all. Instead, he was shouting and yelling at random. Strictly speaking, his performance could be considered to be noise.
If that rcenary was to perform like so on the street, Prophet believed that there would be people that would pick up clubs to shut him up.
The only student that managed to hear Prophet’s question was seated next to her. He was the mixed-blood demon born of a Succubus and a Horned Demon. His hearing and build far surpassed that of the other students.
But, he would always respond with ‘yes’ to his teacher.
“It’s because... the humans’ songs are pleasant to hear,” answered the half-succubus-half-horned-demon in a probing manner.
“You really think that soone screaming and shouting like that is pleasant to hear?”
If it wasn’t for the fact that Prophet wanted to hear her apprentices’ answer, she might have set up a magic barrier to shield the noise.
The noise was simply too irritating.
“...” The student grew silent. But, the other student seated next to him nodded his head after a mont of hesitation.
“About that... Teacher, you’ve taught us that we must speak our mind. Because of that, Teacher, I felt that human’s singing to be... quite pleasant to hear.”
“You’re a quarter Bat Demon. Your sense of hearing is different from ordinary demons and humans.”
Prophet reminded that student. That student seed to want to refute Prophet. But, at this mont, the rcenary finished his performance.
To Prophet’s surprise, during the comntary that followed, one of the judges was actually interested in that rcenary’s performance.
The rcenary ultimately received over five thousand votes. While that number was nowhere comparable to yesterday’s miracles set by the nun and Luvita, it was a very high number of votes.
The rcenary seed to be dissatisfied with his votes. After all, all the contestants of the competition were here for the sake of becoming the champion.
Regretfully, the vote counts set by the nun from the Nation of the Holy Church and the Blackwood Elf had beco myths that cannot be surpassed.
Nevertheless, the rcenary had another opportunity. Today’s competition was rely the qualifier. Because of that, the rcenary walked down the stage in dissatisfaction. The person to ascend the stage after him was an extrely unpresentable-looking boy.
“He... seed like how we were in the past.”
When they saw the boy on the projection screen, one of Prophet’s students couldn’t help but comnt.
These mixed-blood children were the bottom rung mbers of the Demon Realm and had experienced a great deal of hardships. Because of that, they were able to recognize that boy to be soone with a similar sort of experience to them from a single glance.
Sure enough, in the following contestant self-introduction, the boy by the na of Hol inford the judging panel of his life experience. He was born a lowest rung mber of Norland’s Squirrel Street. He currently worked in a tattered tavern as an ordinary attendant.
His life story was the most ‘tragic’ among all the competitors so far.
“Those words will not be able to gain any sympathy from anyone,” Prophet remained unwavered after hearing the boy’s life experience. “That boy’s already grown. Furthermore, he’s born a male. If sympathy points are what one wants, it’s better to have a girl go on stage.”
After saying those words, Prophet took a glance at one of her students. She was a vampire. But, her race deed her blood to be filthy.
When Prophet first encountered the filthy-blooded vampire girl, she won Prophet’s sympathy because she was a little girl.
“Teach...er, I think I now understand why there’re so many people that are fond of this... World’s Singers competition.”
Seemingly as if she was called on by her teacher, the vampire girl, after feeling Prophet’s gaze, instinctively spoke her mind.
“Why?” asked Prophet.
“The human audiences... wanted to watch ordinary competitors acquire fa through this competition. They wanted to see... people with extraordinary talent and... their struggles against authority.”
She gathered her courage to speak the final, seemingly offensive, line.
“Continue.”
Prophet was not angered by her answer. She was very fond of seeing her students use their brains to ponder over things. Or perhaps, it could be stated that... she was very fond of seeing her students struggle under pressure.
“While watching the program, the thing I am most fond of... is seeing the expressions of shock on the face of the judges after seeing the performances from certain contestants.”
The student spoke of her mind without much hesitation.
“Take that Flower of Farucci and the other judge called Sir Weissenasche, when I saw the look of ‘disbelief’ on their faces from being surprised by a contestant’s singing, I would... feel joyous. I don’t know why.”
“I think your answer is correct, Lysa.”
Prophet held her chin in one hand as she stared at the projection screen. She noticed that the screen had shifted focus to the faces of the judges on several occasions.
Challenging the authority was sothing exciting for all intelligent creatures. World’s Singers presented to the contestants the opportunity.
Those aloof and remote actors and playwrights, were showing expressions of shock from the commoners’ sung performances. As commoners themselves, the audiences would naturally beco very excited.
Regretfully, the contestant Hol’s performance did not manage to... shock the judges.
His sung performance was simply too terrible. Even though Prophet was not at all knowledgeable toward music, she still knew that the performance from the little rat from Squirrel Street’s lowest rung cannot be considered singing at all.
She was not the only one. Her four apprentices were also unable to understand his style of performance.
The reaction from the audience mbers being shown on the screen served as the most direct reaction toward Hol’s performance.
They were hissing at him...
In less than a minute since the little rat from Squirrel Street began his performance, hiss and boos filled the entire peanut gallery.
Things started getting out of control. Because of that, Hol was unable to finish his ‘sung performance.’
The pitiful little rat stood on the lilight as he stared blankly at the audience hissing and booing him nonstop.
He could’ve ignored the hisses and boos to finish her performance. But... the hand he’s holding the ‘microphone’ with was shaking nonstop. His lips were also slightly purple.
From the screen, Prophet could see the sweat gathering on his forehead. If this was to continue, the little rat might end up dying of a heart attack from being too nervous.
Faced with the overwhelming amount of boos and screams for him to ‘get off the stage,’ he no longer possesses any courage to continue his performance.
In the end, the most popular of the judges, the Flower of Farucci, stepped forth to comfort the crowd. Only then did they calm down. Then, with a smile, Gallolie said to contestant Hol, “Your performance is... excellent. Do you wish to continue?”
Without uttering a word, Hol bowed deeply toward the stage and walked off.
Surprisingly, after he left, it showed that he had received three thousand seven hundred and twenty-one votes! That number of votes surpassed many bards, minstrels and ordinary opera singers’ sung performances.
Prophet could only view it as audiences voting for Hol as a joke because his sung performance was simply too lacking.
“He actually... managed to advance?!” uttered one of Prophet’s student in astonishnt.
“Advance?”
“Mn... Teacher, the sixteen contestants with the highest number of votes will advance to the semifinal. If I rember correctly, with over three thousand votes, he will be able to rank at least thirteen,” explained the student with a quiet voice.
“Three thousand votes could rank thirteen?”
Prophet rembered the Voice of Norland had seventy thousand to a hundred thousand listeners. And that was a number excluding the users of the Mage Forum. Yet, with only three thousand votes, one could rank thirteen in this competition...
“About that, Teacher... I think it’s because two of the contestants are simply too powerful.”
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