The Last Godfall: Transmigrated as the Young Master

Before the fight

The rear of the underground building was abandoned, a place few patrons ever visited. Distant lights of the lanterns barely illuminated the place. Wooden barrels lay toppled, discarded like trash.

On one of the barrels sat Lucian. His posture relaxed and his ever-beaming smile still plastered over his face as he studied Urias.

This was where they always met before fights, where Lucian told Urias who to bet on and how far to push the stakes. The scion, still indebted, followed every tip from Lucian like a fervent believer listening to his messiah.

Today too the intention was the same. Or at least that is what Urias thought.

"You are saying I have to place one big bet on Berel today?" Urias said. His tone was surprising rather than questioning. Time after time he'd learn that Lucian's Intel was always accurate.

Today he wore clothes that finally made him look the part of an aristocrat. Only days ago, no one would have believed he was a young noble.

"Precisely." Lucian said with a quick nod in an almost exciting way.

Urias always found Lucian's manner unsettling. Nothing he said was wrong, yet the way he carried himself made Urias question his intentions.

He gave him a look before asking further. "How long will you last?"

"Five rounds."

"And how much should I put on him?"

"One hundred and fifty argents."

The young master of Declan was dumbfounded. That was a staggering amount.

"I don't have that much money."

"Surely, but I'm not telling you to bet alone. I want you to bet for me too today."

Saying that, Lucian pulled out a big bag clinking with money.

"One hundred argents."

Urias's eyes widened. The amount was huge. Too huge.

He didn't question further and took the money. He can do at least that much for the guy who almost pulled him from jaws of debt.

"I want you to do one more thing"

"What?"

"Today when you place the bets, I want you to be louder about it. Let a few of them know that you're betting on me."

"Wouldn't that make it suspicious?"

"How so? Think about it. You've been on a win streak for a while. Wouldn't they think 'Oh look at that guy, he is winning frequently, let's ask who he's betting on. We may make a fortune tonight.'"

Urias instantly felt like an idiot for asking the question.

He made a face which practically showed 'Why didn't he think of that?'

Doing this way is safer. The more others bet on Lucian, the more profit it'll return. It won't be much, but it's better than losing.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry for doubting you."

"Right, why would I lie to you? Haha."

"Right."

Saying that they both parted ways as Urias made his way towards the bookkeeper he usually went to—the one under Casalus' control.

He laid down the argents with a grin, loud enough for half the pit to see. The weight of his wager clinked sharp, Berel's name written bold.

A man leaned close after, eyeing him like a lucky charm. "You've been right every damn time. Mind telling me, what do you see today?"

Lucian predicted it right. Here comes the first guy. Urias couldn't help but think that.

He smirked and lowered his voice. "Berel's just for show. My real coin's on Lucian."

The man's eyes lit. "Lucian? You serious?"

Urias only chuckled, pleased at the awe in his voice. "Do what you will. I've got my slip."

For a fleeting moment he wondered if he was digging his own grave, but the thrill of playing along drowned it out.

The lie spread fast, carried on eager tongues. By the time the man turned away, a secret tip had already taken root among a small group. Bet on Lucian.

— — —

Back to present

Casalus glared at the man who had ruined him at the worst possible time. He couldn't fathom where he had miscalculated.

Naturally, his years of experience in the field had taught him not to trust anyone.

The pit of Deluos was not small enough that only one bookkeeper resided here. There were lots of betting houses and some outsiders too.

As insurance, he placed bets on Lucian at other houses, assuming the odds would be the same everywhere.

What he didn't know was Lucian saw this coming. While a small group led by Urias's lie were placing bets on Lucian's name, the man in question was roaming around in different betting houses, draped in illusions and constantly placing bets on his other persona. Just before his match.

And now, the small group of people that believed Urias's lie were screaming at the top of their lungs in delight. While Urias himself was looking as pale as a dead man.

The arena had already erupted into chaos. The pit runners scrambled, sweat beading on their foreheads as slips were shoved in their faces. Pay us, pay us, the crowd shouted, fists banging on tables. The noise rolled like a storm, each voice feeding the next until the whole pit seemed to tilt.

Casalus raised a hand for calm, but his own clerks glanced at him with panic in their eyes. The sums on the board mocked him. Fifty to one, written bold for all to see. A laughable number until the wrong man won.

He tore open his reserve pouch. The clatter of coin inside was thin, too thin. The nearest gamblers saw it, and their jeers sharpened into accusations.

"Where's the money?"

"You set the odds, now pay them!"

Urias pushed forward, waving his slip like a banner. "Don't stall us, Casalus! You wrote it yourself—Lucian wins, we get fifty back for one!" His voice cracked but the mob only heard the demand.

A runner returned from the outer houses, chest heaving. "They said the slips are already claimed," he gasped. "By others."

Casalus's face drained of color.

Right then a presence emerged that silenced the crowd without any further words.

The only sound rang in the arena was the creaking of wheels rolling on a hard ground.

When Lucian saw the man's face, he screamed inwardly. Finally.

All the chaos, all the treachery and betrayal to get one individual's attention finally paid off.

None other than Amadeus Navorian stood before them. And not as an academy's professor this time.