Chapter 140: Chapter 139 : A Cursed Bet

“Ralf Fawkes.”

The middle-aged nobleman spoke up. Unlike last time, Lawrence didn’t see a need to hold himself back; nose tilted high and eyes narrowed, arrogance and derision flowed from him like a burst dam.

“Lawrence something,” Ralf returned the address with an uncaring attitude.

The noble’s face twitched at the disrespect and quickly corrected. “It’s Lawrence of House Collins, don’t forget that peasant.”

“I heard you were somehow proud of your lineage, so this is it ha. Well, don’t worry, I have a perfect memory. I’ll be sure to remember your name, Lawrence of House Corrins, right?”

Lawrence’s face scrunched up and rage surged in him. His lips quivered a bit before settling.

“Well, it’s been good meeting you, I’ll be off.” Not wanting to deal with the noble’s nonsense, Ralf moved to cross the street. Midway through, Lawrence’s voice reached him and stopped him in his tracks.

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”

“Oh, aha,” a cold smile surfaced on Ralf’s face, “a joke…now that’s a surprise. Okay, you’ve earned my attention.” He turned around and walked back to the sidewalk. “You have two minutes, speak.”

Lawrence bore with his grinding gears and moved to explain. “A bet, between me and you over the result of your final match. That’s what I’m proposing.”

Ralf titled his head at the words. To him, and pretty much everyone, the result of the final match was practically set in stone already. The duo held Ruben in high regard as a fighter, but even so, in their minds, he was far from being a challenge to them, let alone Silver.

“Are you betting on my win? Or am I missing something?”

“Hmph, what arrogance. Ruben is far stronger than the worthless rabble you’ve been facing. Do you think you’re the only one who has been holding back in their matches,” he asked rhetorically as he shook his head. Lawrence’s face showed a look as if he was dealing with a fool.

The claim caused Ralf’s eyes to light up. This wasn’t something they hadn’t considered. In a way, every fighter was holding back somewhat. It was, at the end of the day, entertainment, not a real battle after all. The duo was sure Ruben was holding back too.

The duo was of the belief that whatever percentage he was holding back by, wasn’t anything game-changing. But hearing Lawrence’s words, this notion was put into doubt. And when they considered the fact that Lawrence was even proposing this bet after all their dominant performance, the notion fell deeper into doubt’s murky well.

“None of his opponents have been worthy enough to draw out his true power, not even close. The ignorant believe your victory is set in stone but those in the know, like me, know the opposite will come to pass. That’s why I propose this bet. I’ll bet on the fighter from my dukedom’s victory while you bet on your own. What do you say, hearing all this, will you cross the road again?”

By the end of his long speech, Lawrence’s moxie was at full power. Arms crossed at his front, he drilled his contempt-filled gaze into the young man.

Ralf rolled his shoulders. “A bet…hmm, I’m not against it but…what do I have to gain from you? I’m a man with everything, what could you give me as a reward?”

“Money, that’ll be our rewards. If you win, I’ll hand over a hundred million Drads, and if I win, you’ll have to do the same. I’ve heard the profits from the anime and toys are going to your pockets, so this amount shouldn’t phase you, right?”

“It doesn’t…but money, what a boring thing to bet over.”

“Hmm,” Lawrence squinted, “if money isn’t to your liking we can bet on something else. Honestly, just seeing that arrogant face of yours crumble when you realise that you’ve lost, is all I’m after. Money would just be a neat bonus to me.”

“Whoa, you’ve got much more honest, it’s actually a bit refreshing. Fine then, how about this. If you win the bet, I’ll do you one better, instead of a hundred million, I’ll hand over ten billion Drads. Of course, not immediately, I don’t have that much currently. I’ll pay it over the course of five years.”

Lawrence’s brows shot up. He wasn’t one to chase money, but even he couldn’t but be taken aback by the absurd figure.

“And if I lose?” he followed up.

Ralf’s lips suddenly curled up to form a most devious smile. “Then, instead of paying me any money, you, Lawrence of House Collins, will have to abandon your nobility and everything that comes with it.”

“What!?”

He thought up many possibilities, but none were as scary as what came. Lawrence’s whole being jolted at the words, causing him to stagger in place to the point where he had to catch himself last second. Face twisted with shock, he slowly made his way back up.

“Are you crazy?!”

Ralf smiled, the other’s strong reaction was a treat. Ignoring Lawrence’s comment, he further clarified the nobleman’s losing outcome. “You’ll have to change surnames, renounce your nobility, and discard all your current wealth, meaning both fixed and liquid assets. Without these things, you’ll be left as a commoner. You’ll then have to start again. Of course, you can get help from your friends…if you have any that is. However, you can never be a noble again, ever.”

Each word spoken struck Lawrence’s consciousness with some force, and it showed clearly on his face.

“So Lawrence, what do you say to this? This is the only victory condition I’ll agree to. The ball is in your court. Will you agree to it, or cross the road?”

Ralf’s ending words sounded with a hint of mockery. Lawrence sensed this loud and clear; usually, he would jump to say something, but on this occasion, his tongue was tied up in a knot.

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[Father, this is nothing to get worked up over. He’ll die in that ring anyway. And even if Ruben somehow fails, we can just deny the bet’s existence outright. Also, no one can compel us to comply with the losing conditions. So, there’s nothing to worry about.]

Lawrence found his composure as these words streamed through his head. He glanced toward his adopted son and showed an appreciative look before returning her gaze to Ralf.

“Hmph, did you think I’d cower at your words, I’d never. Very well then Ralf Fawkes, let’s do it as you propose. Should I win, you’ll owe me ten billion Drads, and if you win, I’ll forfeit my noble name and everything that it entails.‘

Ralf’s eyes flickered at the answer. “Hmm, you’re braver than I expected.”

“Of course, the Collins bloodline is one of warriors. Those of my lineage never shy away from a challenge,” Lawrence voiced boastfully.

[[A warrior huh, the definition of ‘warrior’ must be different over here,]] Ray commented as he continued his hopping.

[[No, it’s the same. This guy’s just delusional.]]

[[Certainly, but I reckon he thinks he can get away with losing if he just denies the bet was ever a thing.]]

[[Aha, I already thought of that actually.]]

Ralf returned his attention to Lawrence.

“Lawrence, I don’t doubt your bravery or honour, but I’m sure you must doubt mine right…”

Lawrence’s eyes showed agreement, but also confusion as to where Ralf was taking this.

Ralf continued. “I’m no stranger to stretching the truth, and that must concern you, right? Say I lose the bet, I could just claim it never happened, and there’d be nothing you could do about it. It’ll be your word against mine, and we’ll get nowhere, and you’ll get nothing. So about we have a trustworthy person act as a guaranteer. To make sure that the bet follows exactly as stated.”

“Guaranteer?” Lawrence repeated with visible confusion etched into his forehead.

He could think of no ‘middle man’ capable of overseeing this bet. It wasn’t a matter of trustworthiness, but a matter of power. The ‘middle man’ had to be significantly more powerful than both parties to force either of them to comply with the betting conditions.

In Lawrence’s mind, there was just no such person in Zudrad. While not a Duke himself, no one other than Duke Reynolds could compel him to do anything he didn’t want to. No, even he couldn’t.

“Who do you have in mind? Don’t tell me that brat of a duke?”

Ralf smiled. “No, someone much better. Follow me.”

Five minutes later, Lawrence and Nikolas would have their jaws drop as they were brought to Sigurd.

Lawrence’s heart nearly stopped at the meeting. He had heard about the duo’s decision to leave for the Hunter Academy but didn’t realise that the Head of one of the Pillar factions was in the city, and on close terms with the duo.

The revelation came as quite a shock to the system, Nikolas’s as well. In Sigurd’s presence, the nobleman and bodyguard quickly toned down their usual selves.

Sigurd’s eyes were gentle and friendly when looking at Ralf, but as the aged Ascendant’s gaze passed over them, it turned cold and disdainful.

Nikolas was dead silent in the face of the other. He, who was always the strongest in the room now faced one definitely stronger than him. It was a new experience for him that unsettled him to no end. Before the Ascendant, he was akin to a regular man, fragile and harmless. He stayed silent, making himself as small as possible.

Staying just as silent was Lawrence, whose thoughts and emotions were tumultuous. It was no secret that much of his arrogance came from having his adopted son near him, but with Sigurd involved, he knew that should he lose the bet, he’d be forced to follow through with the punishment.

He considered pulling out again, but in the end, stuck to his guns. ‘Sigurd Lund, Golden Fang Hunter, Ascendant…and so what, before Dimitri, he’s just trash.’

Sharpening his resolve with this thought, he went through with the bet.

As for Sigurd…

Hearing the details from Ralf, the Golden Fang Hunter couldn’t help but show a wry smile. He had given Ralf the address in hopes of discussing more important matters, so news of such an ‘insignificant’ bet was underwhelming. Still, he agreed to play the role of the guaranteer.

“Then, as the Head of the Psionic Association, I declare this bet between Ralf and his other personalities, and Lawrence Collins, valid.”

With these words, the ill-intentioned bet was set into motion.

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