Chapter 80: What to choose?
After Lucen was declared the new champion, Faust approached him and asked in a calm, respectful tone, "Would you mind speaking with me for a moment?"
"Of course not," Lucen replied quickly. This was the scenario he was expecting, what he wanted to happen. "Just give me a second. I need to get my companions."
He turned and jogged off into the crowd, weaving past dazed onlookers until he spotted the familiar trio standing together.
Sir Thalos looked like a proud uncle who was desperately trying not to tear up. Mark gave him a small nod, subtle but filled with meaning. And then there was Harlik, his arms bulging as he carried two overstuffed sacks of coin, the jingle of gold louder than his footsteps.
Lucen couldn’t help but chuckle as Harlik now looked like one of those cartoon robbers he watched when he was a kid in his past life.
"It would seem that our bet has paid off, Harlik." The second Lucen spoke, Harlik, who was happily hugging the two sacks of coins, finally noticed Lucen.
"Hahaha! Little leader, you surely are my lucky star! This is the most coins I have ever carried in my entire life! With this much, I can eat and drink booze for two years straight!"
***
Faust was waiting in the audience seats near the entrance to the ring. He stood arms folded, his blindfold still firmly in place. Despite the cracks in the arena floor and the chaos from earlier, he stood calmly, like none of it had ever happened.
There was no one near him, and no one wishing to even get close as they stood respectfully at a distance.
When Lucen returned with his group, Faust gave a faint nod. "Thank you for indulging an old man," he said.
Lucen could not help but frown when he heard Faust say those words. Despite looking like he was in his early thirties, he spoke like he was already around his sixties.