When the next day rolled around, Block Two opened to huge excitement from the crowd. None of their passion had dulled since the matches the previous day, and if anything, they were even rowdier than before. It was the middle of winter, but the colosseum was practically on fire.
One reason for the huge level of anticipation was Wolf’s upset victory. It hadn’t just captured the hearts of the public—it had been huge for the Barzini family’s betting operation. Wolf had been weaker in terms of experience and rank, so not many people put their money on him. In fact, the betting lines were so skewed that they almost couldn’t finalize them. Then Wolf had taken the battle into his own hands, and those who bet on him found themselves rewarded with unbelievably huge sums of money. The losing betters weren’t fazed by the upset—they were just hungry to make up for it in the coming matches.
As a result, even more betting money was being put down than on day one. Yesterday, total sales had come to fifty billion fil. Today we predicted eighty. And it wasn’t just the public who were hedging their bets—even nobles and the wealthy were putting their coin down. It was more money than both Finocchio and I had ever expected. Thanks to Finocchio putting effort into foreign advertising, even the rich from outside of the empire were betting via representatives. Over these next few days, the amount of foreign capital rolling into the empire was going to be crazy.
The tournament was raking it in, and we were only on the second day. If we used our current numbers to predict our potential income for the day of the finals, the figure was astronomical. At the management meeting at the end of the first day, I could practically see the piles of potential fil in Finocchio’s eyes.
None of the money from the betting operations lined my pockets. That was the deal. I was entitled only to earnings made through the tournament itself, and even then I was splitting the proceeds with Finocchio. Naturally, we were making a killing on ticket sales and the shops within the colosseum, but it was nothing compared to the betting action.
Finocchio had offered to draw up a new contract, but I refused. I needed him to become the new Luciano family don. All the money he made would go toward strengthening and reinforcing his position, and I would not touch it.
The executive meeting for the Luciano family was set to take place that night, and I would be attending with Finocchio. I already had a series of plans in mind based on how the heads of family would react, but nothing was set in stone. We still had to be prepared for the worst-case scenario: all-out gang wars. I had plans in place to avoid that, but the time for them would come later. I expected that they would even please Finocchio, who was disappointed to hear his war was going to be canceled.
It was while I was thinking about my evening plans that Keith Zappa stepped into one of the colosseum rings. Out of everyone in Block Two, he was the Seeker I was most curious about.
Keith was a Necromancer, a B-Rank Wizard. With his specialization, he could extract the souls from humans, animals, and beasts, then recreate their power through his own magic. Though the Wizard class was extremely common, Necromancers were decidedly rare. According to the Appraiser Association, the Necromancer’s skills had been fully revealed, meaning Keith would’ve had nothing left to hide. The guy was an enigma. What was his aim? Would I learn more about it here in battle?
“The next match is ready to begin!” Luna announced in a booming voice. “Our second match in Block Two is one you won’t want to miss! I’ve got my eye on Keith Zappa! Can you believe he’s a rookie with only one month of Seeker experience under his belt?! And he’s already founded his own clan! Don’t blink, because we have no idea what kind of fight he’s going to show us today!”
“I’ve got my eye on him too,” said Finocchio, nodding. “He’s so crafty that he actually hid his identity right up until his match. The Keith Zappa we’ve seen until now has in fact been a decoy! If he’s been hiding all that time, I can’t wait to see what he has in store for us.”
The conversation between the commentators had electrified the crowd. All eyes were on Keith Zappa and his opponent, a huge Monk.
In the Seven Star Cup, the rules favored front-line Seekers who fought without weapons. Thinking purely in terms of advantages and disadvantages, the Monk was the overwhelming favorite. The Monk himself seemed to recognize this—it was clear that he expected to bury the skinny Necromancer with a single strike.
The next instant, the confidence on the Monk’s face suddenly warped into incredible pain. At the very second the bell rang to signify the start of the match, Keith had moved at a speed well beyond what anyone expected of a back-line Seeker, then launched a front kick right at the Monk’s stomach. Unable to endure the pain, the Monk’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he conked out.
“I don’t believe it!” Luna said, bewildered. “Keith just kicked a Monk to victory! That kind of destructive power is unheard of in support classes! Is it possible that he’s been hiding his real class and specialization?!”
Finocchio shook his head. “No. He’s a Necromancer, all right. His ability to take out that Monk in a single kick is thanks to a skill from his subclass. I can’t say anything more about that because there are still matches left to go, but as one of the tournament organizers, I can assure you there’s been no foul play.”
Unlike Luna, who was a straight commentator, Finocchio knew the two skills each Seeker had chosen for the tournament. If anyone was cheating, it would not escape Finocchio’s attention. That left no room for doubt: Keith was a bona fide Necromancer.
As a competitor myself, I didn’t know what skills Keith had chosen or used, but I couldn’t imagine him being the type to cheat in such a visible way. I had to admit I was surprised, though. Keith’s combat prowess was truly fearsome. Had it not been for the Megalith absorbing damage for the competitors, he might have even kicked that Monk in half.
With the correct skill application, a support class could go head-to-head with a front-liner in a brawl. It was possible, but the kind of power Keith displayed—a one-hit KO—was exceedingly rare. I could understand now if hiding his identity was about hiding his true strength. Color me impressed.
Keith continued to perform, taking out each opponent in mere seconds. To top things off, in the last fight of Block Two, Keith knocked his opponent out cold with another front kick, the same way he’d defeated the rest. He outclassed them all.
“And the winner of Block Two is Keith Zappa! A Necromancer with a decimating kick! Am I dreaming?! I can’t be—I’m here! I’m wide awake! Seekers, take note! This is the power of the next generation!”
Luna was bursting with praise for Keith’s performance, and the crowd showered him in cheers and applause. It was the first time they had ever seen him, but he’d already cemented himself as a fan favorite. The mysterious wild card of a rookie with terrifying skills had won the crowd’s heart because he was so enigmatic.
Keith had founded his clan a month ago, when the Seven Star Cup was first announced. He’d probably decided on this course of action the very moment he’d learned about the tournament.
In other words, Keith had hidden his identity for reasons other than hiding his strengths and abilities. Everything he did was set up to work in his favor. I was intrigued—he’d proven to me that he was more than just a dumb copycat.
“That’s quite the, um…frightening expression,” someone said, elbowing me in the side.
I peeled my gaze from the ring and looked at Bernadetta, who sat beside me. Her expression was one of blatant fear.
“You looked just like a wild animal for a moment there,” she said. “Quite the shock.”
“My apologies,” I replied, clearing my throat and taking a sip of my wine. “I got a little lost in my work.”