Chapter 23: I WILL WIN MY MONEY BACK
The gallery was buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The last match between Rovan and Nerissa still lingered in the air like the crackle of a fading firework—breathtaking, unexpected, and unforgettable.
At one corner of the gallery, a crowd had gathered, voices overlapping in a blur of cheers and playful arguments. The scent of roasted nuts and sweat mingled in the air as coins clinked from hand to hand.
"Damn, seeing that girl fight earlier, I thought she was going to win for sure!" a red-haired boy groaned, clutching his empty coin pouch.
"Haha! I told you," another jeered, slapping his friend’s back. "Rovan’s a rare talent. No way he’d lose."
"Yeah, yeah—don’t be so smug. You were already wetting your pants when he got hit by that water bullet."
"You two stop playing around," grumbled an older man with a wrinkled cap. "If you’re not betting, then move along."
"Who says we’re not?" the redhead snapped. "I lost money last match. This time, I’ll win it back. I bet five hundred silver coins on Morgan!"
"Place my bet too," the other chimed in. "Four hundred on Yarik!"
The air crackled with rising energy just as the referee’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, slicing through the chatter like a blade.
"Match Five! Morgan Benedict versus Yarik Feldor! Ready! Three! Two! One! Begin!"
The instant the word dropped, Yarik lunged forward—his movement unnaturally fast, boosted by a surge of red mana that flared at his boots. His twin axes gleamed with condensed energy as he slashed directly at Morgan’s chest in a ruthless arc.