The manager of the underground fighting arena, Gales, sat behind a desk counting money...
Simon, with his sly face, smirked unpleasantly and said, "Kid, you could've made an extra 300 pounds."
His already yellowed teeth seemed to darken further as he took a deep drag from his cigarette, "If you had pretended to struggle in the first two matches, you could've earned way more."
That way, most gamblers would have kept betting against Odis. Not only would he have made more money, but Simon would have too.
But Odis had won the first two matches too easily. If he hadn't placed a bet on himself winning all three matches in advance, he wouldn't have made anything from the third fight...
Sitting across from Gales, Odis replied unhurriedly, "A man shouldn't be too greedy."
If he had manipulated the matches like that, he probably wouldn't be able to collect his winnings from Simon as smoothly as he is now.
By now, Gales had finished counting the money. The winnings plus payment totaled 332 pounds and 6 soli.
Most of it was in 5-pound and 1-pound notes, with only a few 10-pound bills. So it formed a thick stack.
Many of the remaining gamblers around couldn't help but swallow hard at the sight, some even eyeing the money with greed.
Since Odis had knocked out all the other fighters, the night's matches were over, and most gamblers had already left.
After Odis swept a glance over them, all signs of greed vanished. Just as he stood to take the money, Simon suddenly pressed a hand down on the stack, "Interested in a partnership? I know a high-end fighting circuit. It has lots of high-society folks watching and betting. A single match pays at least 150 pounds if you win!"
"Not interested." Odis knew exactly what kind of matches those were... entertainment for nobles. He'd done his research.
Simon smirked, "Think about it."
His grin turned sinister, "I know some things most people don't. If I reported your situation to the Church, heh heh..."
Odis already had a plan in mind. He replied coolly, "Don't make me hit you."
"You'll agree eventually." Simon wisely withdrew his hand.
Odis picked up the money, counted it to confirm the amount, then casually grabbed a bottle of liquor from a nearby shelf. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, took a few deep gulps, and strode away.
Of course he'd drink to celebrate. Over 300 pounds in one night was more than many middle-class folks made in a year.
But this money-making method wasn't repeatable. After tonight, the gamblers would know how strong he is, and the odds wouldn't be as favorable.
He could try other underground fighting rings, but by the time he found them, word of tonight's "feats" would have spread, and he wouldn't be able to exploit information gaps for easy wins...
...
Odis exited through the bar area again. He carefully navigated the dimly lit alleyways as he drank.
There was always a chance some drunk gamblers might team up to rob him. Fortunately, he made it out of the alley without incident...
Soon, he reached a slightly wider street where the occasional carriage passed, and clusters of homeless people rested along the sidewalks.
Suddenly, Odis stopped.
Among the homeless, he spotted the corpse of that 'Mandated Punisher' informant... To be precise, he saw the man curled up on the ground, his eyes vacant, as if he'd only just died.
Odis was about to step forward to investigate when reason made him pause. Just as he turned to leave, a familiar woman's voice whispered in his ear:
"He died under strange circumstances. Even his spirit has been obliterated."
The voice belonged to the 'Queen Mystic', Bernadette.
Odis scanned his surroundings. Aside from a distant approaching carriage, the only people nearby were homeless folks trying to sleep before the police inevitably chased them off.
Though he couldn't see Bernadette, he knew she was nearby.
"What are you doing here?"
"I attended a Beyonder gathering nearby."
After the gathering ended, Bernadette had spotted Odis loitering in the area and decided to check in, only to stumble upon this highly suspicious crime scene.
"Who killed him?" Odis asked.
"A 'Sheriff'..." As soon as Bernadette spoke, the mist beside Odis swirled, forming a hazy human silhouette. {T/N: Sheriff is the Sequence 8 of the Justiciar Pathway...}
The figure appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with a high nose bridge, ruthless eyes, and a small dark mole on his cheek.
A moment later, the illusory figure vanished.
"I've seen his photo before," Odis said, "He's with the Royal Guards."
Then he asked, "Can you erase any traces of me stopping here?"
Completely wiping his presence from the area would look suspicious, so just removing evidence of his brief pause would suffice.
"Done."
Instantly, Odis felt lighter, as if his body had become a spirit drifting through the physical world.
As he quickened his pace, he muttered, "From what I know, the dead man was a Mandated Punisher informant... So why would MI9 kill a Mandated Punisher informant?"
"I don't know," Bernadette's voice floated around him, "But I have a feeling there's a significant secret hidden here. I'll investigate quietly."
Odis stiffened slightly, "This isn't something to be curious about."
"I won't pursue it actively," Bernadette said, "But I foresee you getting involved in this investigation eventually."
She hadn't come to Backlund for leisure. Her Clairvoyance had drawn her here... a sense that this city might soon witness events with world-shaking consequences. So she was here seeking advancement opportunities.
Just moments ago, she had perceived that this informant's death was tied to a far larger conspiracy.
She also foresaw herself being entangled in it later. If that was inevitable, she might as well gather some intel in advance.
"Thanks for that," Odis said wryly, "I'd like to live a few more years."
Getting mixed up in classified affairs was a sure way to shorten one's lifespan...
Bernadette suddenly asked, "With your extensive information network, you must have noticed it too, right? Backlund is brewing something major."
Odis replied, "All I've noticed is that tensions are rising lately. Conflicts between factions are becoming more obvious."
Of course he knew. This was the subtle prelude to George III's apotheosis. But at his current power level, playing dumb was the wisest choice.
"This is just the prelude!" Bernadette said emphatically.
"Let's talk about something else," Odis deflected, "I'm just a Low-Sequence nobody. These matters are way above my pay grade."
"Fine." Bernadette didn't press further, "Then let's discuss those two bookmarks stolen from the Royal Museum the other day."
'How about we discuss world peace instead?' Odis thought to himself...