Chapter 17

  Rafinya slipped back into her empty dorm room.

  She moved silently, sinking onto her bed.

  The verdict: a draw.

  Not a loss, but not a win.

  For anyone else, it might’ve been enough.

  Not for Rafinya.

  They don’t know anything…

  She gritted her teeth, fists clenched.

  They weren’t the ones hit… How could they understand?

  When Dan’s fist struck her, Rafinya remembered the excruciating pain better than anyone. Just thinking about it sent a shiver, as if her ribs might still be broken.

  Whatever secret technique it was…

  Rafinya knew her power couldn’t stop it. In truth, she was the one who lost.

  “Ugh…”

  She slowly raised her arm, unbuttoning her shirt to reveal pale skin wrapped in a large bandage around her ribs.

  Her eyes met her reflection in the mirror…

  The diagnosis: cracked ribs from the impact, fractured from her ribs to her waist.

  Even with healing magic, the fact that the Blessing of the Pope couldn’t fully protect her said volumes.

  And then there was that image.

  A blurry moment, barely memorable, it happened so fast. But Rafinya felt it—she was fighting something she didn’t understand.

  Hundreds of razor-sharp teeth, like blades, shattering her sword… Or was it just Dan’s secret magic?

  That sword was her training companion.

  You could call it her trusted blade.

  Now it was destroyed… What kind of power could shatter solid steel like that?

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “!”

  The door.

  Rafinya grabbed a robe, wincing as she stretched to slip it on.

  She shuffled to the door and opened it.

  The dorm maid bowed.

  “A guest wishes to visit, miss.”

  “…Let them in.”

  It was rare for an outsider to enter the student dorms, permitted only for close relatives or guardians.

  The maid ushered in a man, about 24–26, with deep purple hair and a refined face, dressed in Luminus’s white-and-gold noble attire.

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  No red streak in his hair, but with a closer look, his features resembled Rafinya’s. He was her older brother.

  Rodrigo Saint-Pauli, First Lieutenant of the National Defense Force, Azure Lion Battalion.

  “Rafinya.”

  “…”

  She walked back into the room without responding. He stepped in, granted half an hour to visit.

  “It’s alright. You did well.”

  “It’s not enough!”

  She spun, shouting, then flinched as her wounds stung, lowering her voice.

  “Ugh…”

  “You should stay still for eight hours to heal. Let the magic work.”

  But the more he saw her twisted expression, the more he sighed.

  “Rafinya…”

  He pulled up a chair, hands clasped.

  “You know it’s not normal for someone to match your speed, right?”

  He asked.

  “Me and the others saw it all… We all think that kid’s no ordinary guy. A draw’s not bad, you know.”

  “It’s terrible!!!”

  She turned.

  “It should’ve been me Mrs. Casca noticed! I should’ve won! I’m the next Maximin!”

  Rodrigo fell silent. He understood perfectly. For Rafinya, the youngest with prodigious swordsmanship since childhood, Luminus’s rising star dubbed the next Casca… losing to an unknown was a massive blow to her ego.

  He watched her ragged breathing, pain in her eyes, before speaking.

  “Father seems very interested in that kid.”

  Rafinya clenched her teeth, a guttural sound escaping as her spotlight was stolen…

  He gripped her shoulder.

  “Rest, little sister… Everyone’s worried about you.”

  Then he left the room.

  Leaving Rafinya in silence.

  ANFIELD

  “Ten million!”

  Even as Diablo’s prince with boundless wealth, the debt rule demanded Fury earn 150 million credits himself, outside national coffers—a daunting task in human form.

  Casca’s one million turned into ten million overnight. Before them was a magical check, guaranteed by an authentic spell ring on the paper, ensuring no fraud.

  Nora had the same question: Could a holy knight bet? Casca’s answer, same as before, eased her doubts slightly.

  “When the bank opens, I’ll cash it, Your Majesty!”

  “Brilliant idea,” Dan said.

  “I’ve found a way to clear my debt. If we keep this up, I’ll pay it off in no time.”

  Fury dreamed big, but—

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Casca Saint-Maximin said, shaking her head.

  “This ten million’s fine, but the next ten? Not so easy.”

  “What do you mean, Casca?”

  “You know you just cleaned out that bar’s entire pot?”

  Ten million in this universe equals 100 million in ours, adjusted for inflation.

  “Oh, right, the bookie’s broke. Forgot. Let’s hit another bar.”

  “You’re thinking too small, Fury. Duels happen every week. Don’t you think if Skank keeps walking around with that much cash, she’ll get targeted? Worse, scammed or attacked.”

  “Huh? Me, attacked?” Zeedee scoffed.

  “You’d be dead before you could transform. Your human form’s barely better than Fury’s. Who’re you fighting?”

  “…You worried about Freya?”

  “No!” Casca stammered.

  “Worried about getting scammed!”

  “Sure.”

  “Think! If you ran a betting den and saw this, would you let Skank in?”

  “Probably not.”

  “And where else can you find someone trustworthy to carry millions?”

  Casca: Nope.

  Zeedee: Starting to nope.

  Nora: Absolutely no way.

  “That’s the point. Plus, your odds have already shifted.”

  The stronger Dan appeared, the lower his odds. No longer the underdog, his next miracle would yield less, dwindling further with each win.

  “So they’ll pay me less now?”

  “Yup. Next time, it’s not 1:10. Maybe 1:3, with you as the 1 and your opponent as the 3.”

  “I’m not the underdog anymore?”

  “If you beat Rafinya, nope,” Nora said.

  “But against me, Mr. Fury, you’d still be the underdog. That could net another ten million.”

  Fury nodded, hand on chin, then quickly shook his head.

  “That’s too much.”

  “Why? I’d lose gladly to help you.”

  “If I beat the one who killed Iskaryx, I’m not just academy-level—I’d be national. That’s bad. Real bad.”

  The current spotlight was manageable, but beating Nora would draw too much attention, making life unbearable.

  “The plan is, with Casca as my sponsor, we slip out of the spotlight quietly. Beating you for another ten million isn’t worth it.”

  Even if they scored another ten million, then bet it to make 100 million, what bookie would take it?

  It’d be like funneling the U.S. military budget through Las Vegas. No bookie, even in Vegas, would touch that.

  “Ten million is 15% of the debt but comes with 3,000% attention. Not worth it. And that’s assuming 1:10 odds hold, which they won’t. Maybe 1:6.”

  Casca said.

  “Got it,” Nora nodded.

  Zeedee, zoned out during the numbers talk, nodded beside the princess.

  “So what now?” Zeedee asked.

  “Might have to… roam the martial world to other kingdoms,” Casca suggested.

  But when would they find the time?

  The group hit a dead end.

  “Mr. Fury,” Nora said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Does your 150 million debt have a deadline?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I think you should invest this ten million instead of paying it off.”

  “Huh?”

  Fury frowned.

  “You’re saying turn ten million into more?”

  “It’s possible, Mr. Fury. You’d need to go to Mathema.”

  Casca: “!”

  “Why Mathema?”

  “They have a stock market,” Nora said.

  “Stock market?”

  “No!!! Absolutely not!!!”

  Casca screamed, as if struck by PTSD, yanking Dan’s shirt nearly to shreds.

  “If you don’t want to lose everything, don’t take money to Mathema!”

  “You sound like a gambling loser, Casca.”

  “You have to trust me, Fury!!!”

  Flailing

  Dan pushed his wife back.

  Some gut feeling told him Casca knew less about this “stock market” than Nora, judging by her sheer panic.

  And he wanted to hear more from Nora.