MM - Chapter 99 - A CHOICE THAT SEALS FATE

Seeing the guards jeering at his expense caused something inside Damian to snap. His anger cooled to a simmer, replaced by a calculating vendetta that would not be appeased until he personally watched every one of Alaric's relatives die, preferably while the man in question enjoyed the show, before joining them. Rounding on his aunt, Damian spoke in a trembling voice that reeked of enmity, “This is supposed to be a competition to determine personal competence and the ability to nurture strength. Outsiders have no place here. What if he records our techniques?”

“Since when have we ever been free to use them in competitions?” Talerra shot back, “Besides, relationships are a form of personal competence. With the way you’ve been under the table with the elders, I’m surprised you have the gall to prattle such nonsense.”

Her words triggered an idea and Damian leveled a gloating smile at Alaric, “He’s too old! This competition is for our generation only. I’ve seen the vods of him fighting. There’s no way he’s as young as he looks.”

Finally having a decent point, Arya turned to Alaric with raised brows, “That shouldn't be a problem, so long as he proves his identity.”

Raine snorted at the obvious ploy to acquire his information. 

Looks like the phoenix wants me dead. Guess I'll have to change tactics after all. Question is: how?

Talerra’s heartbeat shot out of control when she realized what they were doing. If Alaric exposed his identity, he wouldn't survive the night. Depending on what city he was from, he might not even live long enough to fight for her.

Her mouth was already open to interject when Alaric responded, “I’m below thirty, here’s my proof.” A signed contract appeared in each of their interfaces. Its contents were simple, swearing that if he was above the age of thirty, his ZionLine account would immediately be deleted by the system. Talerra managed not to sigh in relief. Barely.

“We can’t trust tha—”

Damian was silenced by Arya holding two fingers out. Her other hand was at her temple in the pose used to let others know she was accessing their LinQ, “The patriarch has allowed it. No more discussions.”

Damian sucked air through his teeth but didn’t dare refute their grandfather, “I promise you’ll come to regret this, criminal.” He turned on his heels, marching toward the coliseum’s front entrance.

Raine followed right behind him, “Aww. Don’t be like that, young master. Let’s be friends. Look, I’ll even give you a chance to win back what you lost. How about a wager?”

“What drivel are you spewing? Begone from my sight!”

“Don’t be so quick to turn me down,” Raine motioned for his group to join them, then pointed to Mel and Celeste, “Which one of you two wants to fight in the first round?” Turning back at a frowning Damian, Raine grinned, “Five thousand gold on the winner.”

“Alaric!” Talerra hissed and grabbed his elbow. Raine didn’t slow and she was forced to chase him through the main arch leading inside, “This is not some game for you to wager upon!”

They entered into a wide, gently curved hallway that circled the entire structure. Lionhead statues of proud warriors crowded the walls, and decorated chandeliers hung from the ceiling, filling the space with soft light. Along the inside wall, between each statue, hung large kiosks used to access the inner arena.

Raine gasped, his other hand coming to his chest in mock indignation, “Our contract has no stipulations regarding wagers,” he dropped the act, leaning over her, “You’re barely paying me enough to make this worth my time. So, if he’s willing to bet, then it’s none of your business.”

The other two groups had taken Raine’s waving as permission to approach. Overhearing his rebuff of Talerra’s wishes, DoberMan snarled, “Who do you think you are to talk to the young miss that way, scum?!”

FierceFire tried to silence him with an elbow, “Don’t. He’s not someone you want anything to do with.”

“I know who he is!” DoberMan snapped back, “He’s a filthy peon who thinks he can get somewhere in this life by sucking up to everyone he meets. Pathetic loser.”

Raine glanced back at Talerra’s crew, examining their levels and classes. He ended on DoberMan, giving the burly man a humorous snort, “Guardian Warrior?”

[Guardian Warrior: (Level 17) (HP 940/940)]

None of them had chosen a ‘boring,’ basic class, and they were each level seventeen. The same was true for Damian’s fighters, except they were all eighteen. Misunderstanding Raine completely, DoberMan puffed out his chest, “It’s a rare hidden class! If you lick my boots too, I might give you a hint on where I found it.”

Raine didn’t dignify him with a response, changing his focus to a jogging Mel. She reached him before the rest of the group, a serious expression on her face, “I want to go first.” Only Raine’s group didn’t do a double-take.

[Cleric: (Level 15) (HP 540/540)]

Raine held her gaze, sifting through the steely determination reflected there. He didn’t fully understand what this new side of her implied, but it wasn’t some random stroke of bravado. She was struggling to change, and if he denied her now, it may take her months to mentally recover.

“Sure.”

Talerra knew he was strong, but that obviously didn't apply to his underlings. Especially when the difference in levels made it obvious he only used them to pull mobs faster for his own benefit. She sputtered, anger at his audacity overwhelming any fear she held for him, “Absolutely not! This isn’t your competition to do whatever you please!”

Raine squinted at her. If she knew how insane killing a hierarch world boss was, and that Mel might have been there to help, she wouldn't have doubted him. 

That's ridiculous though, I doubt anyone here realizes how hard nobles are to kill, let alone a hierarch. They'll learn eventually, not my job to educate random people.

“Fine. Then break our contract and pay my severance. We’ll be on our way.”

Eyes flying wide, Talerra pulled up their contract, nearly gagging when she realized their agreement very specifically stated Raine would win the first two bouts. The cost to renege on their deal was only two thousand gold, but after purchasing equipment for her members, she could only barely afford it.

Talerra hesitated and FierceFire jumped in, “You can’t seriously be considering this! She’s only a regular cleric. She doesn’t even have six hundred health for God’s sake! If you can’t afford the severance, I’ll pay half. No matter how much it is, you can’t afford to lose this.”

“Half would be a thousand gold…” Her whisper caused FierceFire to retreat a step, then level Raine with a furious glare.

Before she could scream at him, Damian burst into laughter, “This is too rich! Alright, I’ll take your bet. Five thousand gold my man wins against your cleric. Talerra, don’t even think about changing your members after the competition’s already begun. That's a clear breach.”

“Just because they’re part of my team doesn’t mean they have to fight!” She countered. Her arms were trembling as she faced Raine, searching his unreadable expression for a sign he wasn’t trying to destroy her life with his antics.

Raine shrugged, “Break it or not. Doesn’t matter to me. Make up your mind soon, though. I’ve got other things to do.” With those parting words, he accessed the nearest kiosk and pressed a few buttons. He crooked a finger to Rhino and Fizgore, drawing them closer, “You two enter the Tower of Triumph. If you can make it past the fourth floor, I’ll give you something good. After you’re done, wait for us here.” He paid the three silver entry fee for them, and they vanished in beams of blue light.

The Tower of Triumph had only just opened thanks to Mrs. Stonewhall. Due to its high entry fee, its true significance wouldn’t become well known for some time. Since it was the perfect place for Rhino and Fizgore to practice their new classes and skills before the raid, he was happy to front the cost. 

Accessing the controls for the bottom floor arena, Raine found the Tafell’s had paid to rent the entire space for two hours. Accepting entry, he vanished along with Mel and Celeste. They appeared in the middle of a crowded ring of seats overlooking a vast, sandy arena pit.

Alone, Celeste rounded on him, “You’re crazy! You only have to win twice and you’re putting her in instead of me?”

“You can go after her,” Raine’s simple statement appeased her instantly.

“Oh. Okay,” she fell silent, examining the arena floor like it was the most interesting thing in existence.

These two are such a handful. Fun though. And them being underestimated is going to make me a fortune.

Celeste narrowed her eyes, keeping her thoughts to herself. [A fortune, huh? I better get a cut. About time I earn something for all my hard work.]

Damian’s group appeared on the opposite side of the stands. Talerra and her people formed from small beams of light right next to Raine. The woman he was pretty sure was their aunt, the renowned assassin GhostRose, teleported onto a platform at the north of the stands, between both groups. Renowned as her name might have been in the past, it wasn't like assassins went around announcing themselves. 

After testing her with the most subtle bloodlust he could currently summon, Raine was at least sure she was dangerous. If she wasn't the GhostRose, then that just proved how many competent martials The Phoenix Clan employed. The woman in question typed at the air a few times and Raine received an invitation to a raid group. He accepted, and a list with everyone’s names populated in his HUD.

She cleared her throat softly. Thanks to being the raid leader, her voice was loud and clear in all their ears, “Can everyone hear me?” Enough of them nodded that she continued, “Good. Damian, choose your first competitor.”

With a cocky grin, he pointed to a young man whose muscles were so large they barely fit into his armor. Since ZionLine adjusted clothing to match the wearer, it was clear his real life physique was well beyond the ordinary. The man in question vanished from the stands, appearing on one side of the arena floor. His name turned gray in their HUDs, indicating he could no longer see the group chat.

[Berserk Warrior: (Level 18) (HP 1170/1170)]

Talerra’s group sucked in air loudly, all of them trying to talk over each other, “That cleric can’t win!”

“Don’t let her go!”

“Send me, I’ll beat that idiot blind!”

Talerra didn’t respond to them. She glowered at Raine, looking like he’d punched her in the gut, “Why did you say you’d send her first? Answer honestly or I really won't let her go, then you'll lose the chance for an extra five thousand gold from that asswipe.”

Raine shrugged, “Because she asked, and to get him to agree to the bet, obviously.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying you think she can actually win?” Talerra’s lips twisted as if merely speaking the words disgusted her.

“You think I’d put five thousand gold on the line if I wasn’t confident? Like I said, do whatever you’re going to do. Stop wasting my time,” crossing his arms, Raine turned away from her.

Talerra’s group exploded into furious whispers again but Arya’s command cut through them, “Talerra, choose.”

Conflicted and biting her lip, Talerra looked between a straight-backed Mel and the eager DoberMan. He looked back at her with wide eyes, panting impatiently. Meanwhile, Mel gazed down at the Berserk Warrior in the arena, radiating calm confidence without a trace of fear. Talerra shook her head, not quite able to believe what she was doing when she pointed at Mel.

“What?! No!” DoberMan bellowed, jumping in the way of her finger. It was too late. Mel vanished, appearing two dozen meters away from the bulky fighter.

“Are you mad?!” FierceFire shouted at her friend, “Hammer’s a three time national champion! Why would you send some unknown girl to fight him? And he's wearing a full set of gear from that nightmare dungeon. Even if she somehow had way higher stats, which she clearly doesn’t, she’d still get creamed!”

DoberMan joined in, his voice both deep and whiny, “Even I wouldn’t have an easy time against him and that little girl didn’t walk like a martial at all. Please tell me you have a plan because this doesn’t make any sense!”

Talerra fell into a seat, holding the back of a hand to her forehead, “I don’t know. She just looked so calm. Like master when she tells us all to come at her together. Like there’s no chance in the world we could ever beat her. There’s still four rounds after this. Even if she loses, we can make a comeback, and I’ll earn two thousand gold from Alaric.” She said the last while glaring at his back.

Raine spun around, snapping his fingers, “I knew I was forgetting something. You owe me thirty-eight million.”

“What?!” Talerra and FierceFire shouted in unison.

“Thirty-eight thousand confirmed kills at Vile Peak Town, a thousand a pop. You don't have to count, the contract automatically keeps track. Just accept the payment.”

Talerra checked her interface and sure enough, the number was there staring back at her. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She had been too busy leveling right up until the last minute to notice, “H-how is it counting all those kills as yours? I thought that was mostly the town lord?”

“Contracts can't lie or be cheated, think whatever you want.”

Her voice was strained as she stared anywhere but at Raine, “I don't have that much right now.”

Raine smiled brightly, “You still have a week before ZL takes the remainder in gold. By all means, take your sweet time.”

FierceFire looked on the verge of tears, “You can't actually be thinking of paying this scoundrel! Now I'm convinced. He’s conning you. Ever since we first met, all he's done is trick us out of money. I hate him so much!”

Celeste perked up at her comment, nodding emphatically, “If you weren't so right, I'd be upset you stole my line.”

Much to their annoyance, Raine wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He busily tapped away at his interface, signing the contract bet with Damian. When done, he posted a thumbs up in the raid chat.

Arya spoke into all of their ears again, “Officially, this is an open engagement without rules. Anything goes, and the first to die loses. As an authorized match between family branches, there should be no restraints on techniques used. However, since we are amongst many prying eyes, I expect adequate discretion.”

Mel glanced up at Arya, clearly confused. Damian, Talerra, and Hammer nodded. Arya raised her hand, then lowered it in a quick chop, “Begin!”

Hammer bashed his armored fists together, a huge smile plastered on his face. With an arm held to the side, he summoned a long polehammer that looked both agile and deadly. Its butt thunked into the arena sands.

Mel flicked her wrist and a Common Grey dirk appeared in her grip. It matched the mundane hues from the rest of her gear. She made no other moves, waiting calmly.

Hammer scoffed, shaking his head at her tiny blade, “How dare you brandish such a toy at me! Don’t tell me you’re lost? If you needed help finding the kitchen, you should have said so!” He glanced up at Damian in the stands, “Is this for real? This feels too good to be real.”

Mel bent her knees, adopting the stance Raine had taught her. She motioned with the fingers of her other hand, her voice silky smooth, “Why don’t you come over here and find out.”