Grieg had done his research and quite accurately estimated Kaffes’s total finances. And now, he was testing him. He was testing to see just what kind of move Kaffes was intending to make. Or perhaps the man had already read Kaffes’s intentions. Maybe Grieg had discerned that Kaffes was here to take someone down. In which case, he was testing how serious he was about it, ready to use Kaffes to eliminate his enemies from a safe distance. Depending on the outcome, he may choose to eliminate Kaffes too.
What a terrifying man.
But the one who had chosen to use the other first was Kaffes. He’d believed that Grieg would be able to read him well enough to assume this was his intention. He didn’t trust the man enough to do direct business with him, but Kaffes trusted Grieg’s crafty mind.
Kaffes gave an exaggerated sigh. “I understand. In that case, I will bet the whole fifty billion. Does that satisfy you, Grieg?”
“Hmph... Fine then. In that case, I will also bet fifty billion.”
And with that, the bar was set—fifty billion krams. Each bettor was still free to bet as much as they wished—they were even welcome to bet less than fifty billion. But in this world, it was over for you if you were looked down on. Now that the one they had been looking down on had voiced his buy-in, they couldn’t dare to go any lower. Whether they really had fifty billion in the bank or not, they couldn’t even entertain the thought of backing down. If they chose to back out, everyone else present would take that opportunity to take a bite. They’d all come to take everything by force. If they were the kind of people to get scared this easily, there was no reason to fear them.
“Now that we’ve decided the bet amount, let us discuss the rules in greater detail. Nastine.”
“Sir.”
The man who had been waiting by the wall walked forward.
“Allow me to explain. First, we will not be betting on the bare-handed division. We believe Leeno to be the clear winner of that category. You all would bet on Leeno, wouldn’t you? Or did any of you intend to bet on someone else?”
No one spoke up. Naturally, no one would make a clearly unwinnable bet. Even setting aside the shame it would bring, it was far too foolish. There was always the chance that someone would win over Leeno, but they all knew that chance was far too low. She was undoubtedly the one most likely to win the tournament on the bare-handed side.
“Then, if we are all in agreement, allow me to continue. We will have you select the competitor from the weapons division that you believe will win. According to the beastkin who spoke on magivision just now...”
And so, the curtain rose on the secret illegal money game.
A money game that would determine the survival of Altoire’s underworld.
“The first match of Block A, huh?”
Who would have thought Fressa would be the first match of the first day? If things went according to schedule, she’d be up the second the opening ceremony ended. She wasn’t sure if she was reading too much into it, but something about it felt intentional.
The matchups for the tournament had been posted on the bulletin board outside of the arena. The area had been crowded with competitors when it had been posted that morning, but it was like a wasteland by the afternoon—you could easily read it from any angle. She was just looking at it straight on, though.
Incidentally, those beastkin brothers had recorded the announcement in the early morning before most of the competitors were awake, so they’d left the island by the time it was broadcast. A lot of the fighters only knew the matchups had been posted after seeing the announcement on magivision.
The tournament would take a knockout format. The competitors were split into six blocks, and all the matches would be worked through over the next week.
The first round of matches would be on the first and second days. Day three would be the second round, day four the third round, and so on. That way, half of the fighters would win each day and another half would be eliminated.
There was nothing complicated about it. Apart from the first and second days, they just had to win a match a day. Apparently, the bare-handed division would have their matches at the same time so both divisions could have their finals on the same day.
“When’s your first match?” someone asked from behind.
“First match of Block A,” Fressa answered without turning around. She smiled. “Seems I’m taking the first match of this part of the tournament.”
The man—Gandolph—stepped up beside her. “That’s certainly early.”
“I don’t know who comes up with these, but it feels calculated. The first match is important—it feels like they’re telling me to hype things up.”
“Who’s your opponent...? Ah, Gigzaras. The adventurer known as Headsplitter Geeg.”
“Yup. The big half-titan. I guess he won in the losers’ matches.”
Gandolph couldn’t help but agree that this felt planned. Both Fressa and Gigzaras were popular competitors who had stood out during preliminaries. “They want to show the small fighter—a woman, at that—win against the giant, eh?”
“I’m only guessing.” But if they were able to pull off a spectacle like that, it would definitely excite the audience. Although some of them would be able to discern their differing power levels, most of the viewers weren’t able to make such assessments. They based who was strong or weak solely on the things they could clearly see, such as build and gender.
As proof of that, Fressa had ended up getting a special feature because her preliminary matches had left such an impression on the audience. She had been interviewed several times and was even referred to as a beautiful competitor on par with an elven adventurer named Lestra.
Honestly, it was a huge pain. She was an underworld dweller currently in disguise—drawing attention was the worst thing for her.