Chapter 25: No Ill Intentions (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 25: No Ill Intentions (4)
The air was thick with the smell of dampness, sweat, and blood.
Even for Calian, who was long accustomed to such odors, the stench was enough to make him frown.
"Entry fee."
A man approached Calian and held up two fingers.
Calian nodded, handing him two gold coins. In return, the man gave him a numbered plaque—a token to use instead of his name. Calian accepted it silently and stepped inside.
In the center of the gambling den stood a spacious iron cage where two men were locked in combat. One wore a black headband, the other white.
Around fifty gamblers watched the spectacle. Some crowded the iron cage, shouting wildly, while others sat in chairs at small tables, observing quietly.
As Calian stood scanning the scene, someone approached him.
It was a silver-haired girl in a short dress. Calian’s brow furrowed at the sight of her attire, which was wholly inappropriate for her age. It was painfully obvious she hadn't chosen it herself.
The girl gently took his arm and gestured, guiding him to an empty seat.
Is she mute?
Once Calian was seated, the girl stepped away, returning a moment later with a small tray. It was split down the middle, one half painted black, the other white. Its purpose was obvious.
After observing the fighters for a moment, Calian pulled three gold coins from his vest and placed them on the white side.
He was betting on the man with the white headband. The girl noted down Calian’s number and his three-florin bet on white, handed him a receipt, and walked away with the coins.
Calian turned his gaze back to the cage.
The fighter in the white headband was staggering, barely weathering a barrage of blows from his opponent.
"Duck lower, you idiot!"
"Watch his elbows, dumbass!"
Shouts laced with profanity echoed through the room.
Calian closed his eyes, acting as if the outcome were already decided.
A few moments passed.
—Crash!
A heavy crash echoed through the den as a body hit the floor, followed by a wave of cheers and curses. When Calian opened his eyes, the man in the black headband was sprawled on the cage floor, his face beaten to a pulp.
The girl who had taken his money approached and handed him a voucher for double his bet—the man in white had won.
"Yes! Bloody Gerard wins again today! And now, we begin our third match of the day!"
Since this had been the second match, the first must have ended before Calian arrived.
The man in black was dragged out of the cage while the victor in white limped away, exhausted. The next match began without delay, and the silver-haired girl returned to Calian’s side.
This time, Calian bet on black. Instead of using new coins, he simply handed her the six-florin voucher he had just won. The girl recorded his bet as before and moved on.
Each match lasted five to ten minutes. Each time, Calian handed over his winning voucher and correctly predicted the outcome.
And so it continued, until the tenth fight came to an end.
"The tenth match is over! The winner is Iron Knee Pantheon!" the announcer’s voice boomed.
Soon, the girl approached to hand Calian his winnings, her hands trembling slightly.
For Calian, predicting the winner of these brawls was child’s play. His initial three florins had snowballed into a staggering sum of over 1,500.
Calian felt the announcer’s eyes on him—rumors of a mysterious guest who hadn’t lost a single bet must have reached him. Calian gave a slight nod, a signal to hurry up and start the next round. He was growing impatient.
I didn't come here to gamble.
Kyrie still hadn't appeared.
Was his information wrong? Was the timing off? Or had Kyrie already fought in the first match he’d missed?
Since the show had to go on, the announcer addressed the crowd once more.
"Yes! And now, for our final match of the night! The stakes are high, with a whopping four-to-one payout! I know many of you have been waiting for this special event!"
The crowd roared, their anticipation palpable. Swept up in the energy, the announcer began his booming introduction.
"Allow me to introduce… Blood Hammer Shawn!"
A muscular giant stepped forward.
Wearing a white headband, he stomped his feet, raised both arms, and roared. The crowd cheered in unison.
"And his challenger today—the man who refuses to give up!"
This was the final match. Calian’s breath hitched. What if Kyrie didn’t appear? The announcer's voice began to blur, overlapping with a voice from his memories.
"He has suffered over ten narrow defeats! Though he has never tasted victory in this cage, will today be any different?!"
—Back then, I was held captive in a place that sold fights for money.
The challenger entered the cage.
He wore a black headband.
Above it, a shock of vivid, light-blue hair was visible. A shudder ran through Calian’s body.
"Don't count him out! He has returned stronger than yesterday!"
—And then, after my sister died, I left Kairis.
The challenger lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. As his eyes passed over Calian’s seat, Calian saw him clearly.
"Introducing…!"
Odd eyes—one blue, one black.
"Monster's Eye!"
Kyrie.
"Kyrie!"
Found him.
* * *
The girl stared at Calian, her eyes wide. The amount he was wagering was enormous.
Calian handed over the voucher he had just received, betting all 1,500-odd florins. Naturally, he bet on Kyrie.
Someone standing nearby chimed in.
"Hey, kid. That's a fortune you're holding. Don't throw it away on him. He's fun to watch, but put your money on white if you want to keep it."
"No way! Today's the day he wins! If he’d been one second faster yesterday, he would've won!"
It seemed that despite his winless record, Kyrie still had his share of supporters. The girl with the tray hesitated no longer; she wrote down the bet and walked away.
As the fight began, the crowd fell silent, their eyes glued to the cage.
Although Kyrie was remarkably tall for a seventeen-year-old, he looked like a child before Shawn. The giant, easily over two meters tall, swung his arm. The muscles bulged to the bursting point, as thick and powerful as Raven's legs.
—Whoosh!
The swing sliced through the air with a terrifying sound, one no mere arm should be able to make. Kyrie twisted his body slightly to dodge. Immediately, Shawn’s left arm hooked upward. Kyrie took a step back.
Having missed twice, Shawn instantly threw a kick. It was blindingly fast, leaving Kyrie no room to dodge.
Kyrie seemed to agree, raising both arms to block.
—Thud!
The force of the impact sent a dull thud echoing through the den, and Kyrie staggered back. As he retreated another step, Shawn closed the distance and launched another high kick.
Kyrie caught Shawn’s leg.
He had intended to throw Shawn off balance, but the difference in weight was too great. Shawn ignored the hold on his leg and simply threw a punch at Kyrie's ribs.
—Thud!
Kyrie swiftly released the leg and leaped back to create distance. The moment the punch whipped past, he lunged forward. He spun, his heel slamming into Shawn’s jaw. The giant’s head snapped sideways with a sickening crack.
Shaking his head to clear it, Shawn charged, grabbing Kyrie by the waist and slamming him into the iron cage.
—Crash!
Kyrie’s body collided with the iron bars with a loud clang. Shawn’s fist buried itself into Kyrie’s stomach. Kyrie fought back, throwing an uppercut that caught Shawn on the same jaw he had just kicked.
Over twenty exchanges followed in rapid succession.
Blood streamed from Shawn’s nose after taking a knee to the face. His left hand trembled, a sign that Kyrie's attempt to lock his arm had done some damage.
Of course, Kyrie was far from unscathed. As he stepped toward Shawn, his body swayed, still feeling the effects of a blow to the back of his neck. A punch had grazed one of his eyes, swelling it shut, and his lip was split open.
"He's far too soft without a sword," Calian chuckled to himself.
Though his tone was casual, his thoughts were anything but. It was frustrating to see the great Kyrie reduced to a bare-fisted brawl.
Just then, Shawn lunged. His right fist flew toward Kyrie’s face. Kyrie instinctively raised an arm to block, but it was a feint. At that exact moment, Shawn’s left fist drove hard into Kyrie's ribs.
"Ugh!"
Gasping for air, Kyrie slumped against the cage. His trembling shoulders showed he'd taken a direct hit to a vital point. Calian barely resisted the urge to leap from his seat.
Shawn charged again.
Kyrie raised his leg and kicked Shawn back with all his might, then lunged at the staggering giant. He drove his fist into Shawn's solar plexus, but Shawn barely seemed to register it.
—Thud!
As if in mockery, Shawn copied the move, striking Kyrie in the abdomen. The blow landed near his injured ribs, and Kyrie staggered again.
Shawn grinned, clenching his fists. Kyrie barely managed to pull himself upright. Shawn lunged, and a flurry of over a dozen punches rained down on Kyrie.
Though Kyrie blocked the first few, he soon began taking direct hits, unable to defend himself. He threw a few counterpunches, but they did little to faze Shawn. Finally, blood spilled from Kyrie’s mouth.
Unable to watch any longer, Calian roared.
"Kyrie! You have a habit of drawing back your shoulder right before you strike!"
The voice cut through the deafening roar of the crowd, and Kyrie’s shoulders flinched.
Kyrie lowered the arms he had been using to block Shawn’s punches.
He clenched his fists, channeling strength from his very fingertips. The muscles in his arms tensed, veins bulging from the backs of his hands all the way to his forearms.
Kyrie threw a punch with all his might toward Shawn's stomach. Heeding that single piece of advice, his form was perfect.
—Thud!
Shawn took a step back.
The impact was so severe that he instinctively clutched his stomach. As Kyrie's counterattack landed cleanly, the crowd’s cheers shook the entire gambling den.
Seizing the momentum, Kyrie unleashed a relentless torrent of attacks. He threw punches, drove his knee into Shawn's chin, and delivered spinning kicks, giving the giant no time to breathe.
And finally—
—Thud!
Staggering back a few steps, Shawn's eyes rolled into his head, and he collapsed. The announcer quickly began the count, but the unconscious giant did not stir.
"W-What an unbelievable turn of events!"
The announcer stammered in disbelief before finding his voice again, shouting with an excitement fueled by Kyrie’s first-ever victory.
"Finally! Kyrie has won!"
The crowd went wild.
Those who had bet on Kyrie erupted, celebrating their massive payout.
"The winner of tonight's final match is… Monster's Eye, Kyrie!"
Kyrie panted heavily, turning his head.
He looked toward the source of the boy's voice. Though Calian’s face was hidden by his hood, Kyrie felt as if they were locking eyes.
Who is that?
As Kyrie stared, Calian stared back from beneath his hood, an amused smile on his face.
"Blood-eyes and a monster's eye."
Then, he casually glanced around, waiting.
"It should be about time."
Sure enough.
Someone was approaching him. It wasn't the silver-haired girl coming to deliver his winnings, but a man as massive as Shawn. Instead of a voucher, the man delivered a message.
"Someone wishes to see you. Follow me."
Everything was proceeding exactly as he had planned. Calian stood without hesitation and followed the man.