In fact, that had been Evil Queller, a Technique that utilized divine chi. It was like a spell to ward off evil, highly effective against invisible powers and intangible demonic entities. Mana was apparently a very similar concept, which was what made it possible to dispel magic with the Technique. I’d attempted to use it myself against the aqua horse we faced out in Vanderouge a year ago. Lynokis had stopped me before I could fully activate it, though. She’d told me to stop because I would get cursed.
Me? Get cursed? I’m a martial artist.
Generally speaking, divine chi was effective against those sorts of intangible forces. I was fairly sure it was the power of the reverse god that directly opposed the true god...or something like that. Ugh, I can’t seem to remember anything else.
If I couldn’t remember, then it must not have been that important. Despite its name, divine chi wasn’t anything all that special. Martial artists could just deal with magic with their spirit. We were the type of people to go, “Magic doesn’t make you better!” and punch a magician right in the face.
“Lestra ended up against an opponent where magic was ineffective—an unlucky matchup for her. With her skill, she could easily have placed higher. It goes to show how strong a competitor Sauzan is. Even against a strengthened opponent, he barely broke a sweat. It feels as if he’s still hiding his true strength from us. It may be that we won’t get to see him go all out until later in this tournament. Perhaps he will be the big winner.”
That seemed good enough. This was the most interesting match of the day, anyway. My disciples and the other fighters I had my eye on were matched up against competitors they would easily defeat. It would be fun if there was some kind of shake-up, though. I was looking forward to an unforgettable match just as the audience was.
In a room of a dim warehouse, Kaffes Jacks’s money game was in full swing.
“It goes to show how strong a competitor Sauzan is. Even against a strengthened opponent, he barely broke a sweat. It feels as if he’s still hiding his true strength from us. It may be that we won’t get to see him go all out until later in this tournament. Perhaps he will be the big winner.”
Now that the highlights covering the day’s matches were over, Kaffes gave a signal. Nastine lowered the volume of the MagiPad and placed some paper on the table. The channel was now displaying rebroadcasts of the matches of the day. Kaffes enjoyed watching them over and over, but there was no time for that right now.
“The tournament has now begun in earnest. As I informed you all before, we will begin making our bets now.”
It was the night of the third day, and, now that the gathered villains had had the time to evaluate the competitors, it was time for the betting to begin. The number of competitors had now been cut down to seventy-five. The men were to guess which of those seventy-five competitors would win. Well, since they weren’t allowed to include the bare-handed division in their bets, it was actually fewer than that.
Kaffes Jacks, Grieg Klett, Frozen Geitz, Lesten, Keya Kin, Zen Fowah. The six of them had gathered in the same space where they’d first had their meeting, in the same seats, as they looked at the matchups spread out on the table. There were two sheets: Block A and Block B. The names of the competitors were written and whoever won all of the matches would be named the champion.
The rate had been determined by Kaffes’s declaration to bet fifty billion krams. No one present would dare admit anything as unsightly as not having that money. Underworld dwellers could not afford to be mocked—show a moment of weakness, and everyone would move in for the kill. They had no choice but to match the bet.
Fifty billion krams. Not even they could bet so much money as a mere joke. Naturally, if they bet wrong here, they would be forced to pay up, no matter what it took. There was a very low probability of escape. If they weren’t in possession of fifty billion krams, then they may lose not only their property, but also their life. It was practically a guarantee, in fact. Every member gathered here would do just that.
The villains had desperately used every ounce of their knowledge to gather information, watching every match intently to try and correctly judge the strength of the fighters.
There were several fighters that they had determined to be possible champions. In fact, there were so many options that it was almost troublesome in this situation. It was like they were lacking the last key bit of info to determine who was the definite winner. It was a fifty-billion-kram bet, after all—they had to be careful.
Even as they were nervously desperate, there was one thought they all had in common: Who the hell is that kid? Specifically, the girl with white hair doing the commentary. At first, they’d not been paying that much attention to what she was saying, but when they finally had, they’d realized that her comments were far too accurate.
There were matches where it wasn’t all that clear what exactly was happening, and yet she would always come in with a careful explanation. She knew exactly why the competitors won or lost, and made it easy for the audience to understand. Even the offhand predictions she made of who was most likely to win or lose just before the matches began were all accurate, whether for the weapons division or the bare-handed one.