Chapter 31: Five Wins to Power
A few hours later, during the match—after the bloody mess of two regenerating vampires viciously tearing into each other with blood-forged blades and inhuman shrieks—one finally reigned supreme.
And of course, it was the leaner one. Just as Corven predicted.
"Yes!" he shouted, fist clenched, startling a few nearby spectators who turned with irritated scowls.
After all, he’d just cheered for the underdog—and the underdog had just won.
[Objective: Win 5 Bets (1/5)]
Then, suddenly, an announcement boomed across the chamber—somewhat surprisingly, from a human perched on a tiny balcony wedged into the far corner of the room, half-shrouded in shadow and torchlight.
The man wore a white mask, featureless except for jagged ink lines drawn across the eyes and mouth, and what could only be described as a discount metalhead cosplay: studded leather, faded chains, and mismatched greaves.
"Did you see that, folks?! The underdog—" the masked announcer roared into the crowd, though his voice distorted slightly, as if echoing through a tin can.
Corven ignored the commentary, tuning it out in favor of something far more important: his winnings.
He turned to the trio of beastkin and the lizardman, grin spreading. "Got my coin?" he laughed, hands already open.
The canine beastkin scowled, ears flicking. "You got lucky," he growled, tail lashing with frustration.
"Ain’t that the point?" The lizardman cut in with a dry laugh, trying to diffuse the tension as he scraped together a pile of glinting silver from the communal pot. "Here. Your winnings."