Chapter 369: If It’s Tangled, Just Cut It (7)

Chapter 369: If It’s Tangled, Just Cut It (7)

There was a saying in Liqueur: “If something happens, suspect Keter first.”

The moment the earth-shaking explosion rang out, Joyray was certain it was him.

“Keter! What are you doing?!”

He rushed out of the waiting room. Keter had always been strong. Now, he seemed strong enough to be considered an eight-star Irregular.

“Even so, that won’t work. You can’t beat Amon!”

An eight-star Irregular was said to have reached the realm of a demigod—a being whose will could influence the world itself, to the point that merely desiring someone’s death could bring it about. However, Amon was a being who surpassed even that. In other words, he was a god, or something infinitely close to one. No matter how strong Keter was, he was an opponent he could never defeat.

Joyray could only think that this explosion was Keter attacking Amon.

Please let me be wrong this time.

For once, Joyray hoped his intuition was wrong as he hurried back to the arena, but...

“Damn it!”

...as expected, Keter stood there, aiming an arrow at Amon. Of course, Amon was completely unharmed. Rather, he looked down at Keter with interest.

“You attack me without even introducing yourself, despite knowing who I am. You’re quite insane. If so, are you Keter?”

Unexpectedly, Amon seemed to know him.

Keter lowered the arrow he had drawn and said, “Has my reputation spread underground too? Fame really is troublesome.”

“I’ve heard quite a lot about you, especially from Liyan and Urone.”

“Huh?”

Keter frowned slightly. He tended to forget things he wasn’t interested in, but anything that caught his attention, he never forgot. However, those names meant nothing to him. Anyone who had encountered Amon, the Ruler of the fourth floor, should not be unknown to him. Plus, these two had apparently spoken about him often.

I forgot? No, that’s impossible.

Keter was certain that he never forgot names.

“Liyan and Urone... are those aliases or titles?”

At his question, Amon smiled with amusement.

“Is that so? You don’t know their names. Would you like to?”

“Not that badly, but I’d appreciate it if you told me.”

“Then let’s make a deal. I’ll forgive your rudeness in attacking me. In exchange, participate in this arena. Win ten matches in a row, and I will grant you one of my Authorities and tell you who those two are.”

Despite being attacked outright, Amon not only forgave Keter, but even made him an offer.

“No!”

The one who answered was not Keter but Joyray.

Grabbing Keter’s shoulder tightly, he said, “Refuse. You cannot stay here.”

“Why?”

“It may be ten consecutive wins, but there’s only one match per day. That means you would have to stay here for at least ten days, and you look like a busy man to me.”

Joyray didn’t appeal emotionally; he appealed with logic.

Keter stroked his chin.

“Hm... I definitely don’t want to stay here for ten days.”

At that, Amon offered a compromise.

“Short on time? Then fight ten matches consecutively.”

“Still takes too long. Let’s make it simpler.”

Keter pointed at Amon with his finger, then beckoned him.

“You. Come down.”

* * *

The monsters in the stands roared with excitement. They cheered for Keter, the madman who had dared to challenge Amon.

Amon’s lips curled upward. He was no noble king. He was a monster—one who sought only amusement. Having been called out, there was no way he would refuse.

Floating lightly down into the arena, Amon stood before Keter. With his youthful, handsome appearance, the two looked almost like princes from rival kingdoms facing one another.

“Excellent. It’s been centuries since I’ve had a challenger... Even Liyan and Urone avoided fighting me.”

“I told you, I don’t know who those two are.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you right before you die. I hear archery is your specialty, so go ahead and take a shot. I’ll stand still and take up to three arrows.”

Amon spread his arms, completely at ease. Keter was about to respond when Joyray grabbed his shoulder again.

Joyray locked eyes with Keter, silently pleading for him to stop and flee while he still could. However, Keter only gave him a quick wink before turning back to face Amon.

“When did I say I’d fight you? I’ll beat you in a game.”

“...A game?”

Amon tilted his head, and the monsters murmured, not even understanding the word.

“It’s called rock-paper-scissors.”

“And you’re certain you can beat me at it?”

“Two hundred percent.”

“Oh?”

Now intrigued, Amon crossed his arms.

“Explain how to play it,” Amon said.

“It’s simple. You use your hand to throw either scissors, rock, or paper. Scissors beat paper, paper beats rock, and rock beats scissors.”

“Simple enough.”

“I’ll demonstrate. Raise your hand to head level. On the signal, bring it down to your waist and reveal your choice. Once you bring it down, you can’t change it. Ready... Rock, paper, scissors!”

Keter threw scissors. Amon copied his motion but threw a rock instead.

“So I win?” Amon asked calmly.

“Yep. Not bad. We’ll play ten rounds and whoever wins the majority takes it.”

“That would settle things quickly. However, no one dies, do they? That’s not very entertaining.”

Then Keter raised the stakes.

“Just betting lives isn’t enough. A proper game needs wagers. I’ll bet my body and my soul.”

Amon burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! Truly insane! Betting your soul! Very well: if you win, I’ll grant you three wishes!”

“I like that. Now, let’s finalize the rules before we start since we could tie. If so, we play one extra round to decide. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“During the game, no actions other than rock-paper-scissors until it’s over.”

“Heh. You think I’m going to kill you if I start losing? Makes sense why you would think that, but I swear I won’t.”

“No interference from the monsters.”

“You’re cautious? Fine.”

“Lastly, Joyray will act as the referee in case of any cheating.”

“Do as you please.”

Amon gestured impatiently. Keter loosened his fingers.

Joyray, who was now the referee but effectively just a spectator, said firmly, “Keter, since you’ve made me the referee, I swear on my honor as a Mercenary Association Councilman that I will ensure neither you nor Amon cheats.”

“I trust you, Captain.”

“Then begin. Face each other,” Joyray said, getting Keter and Amon into position. “I’ll give the signal. Move only on my call. Any objections?”

“None.”

“None.”

“Then, we will begin the first round. Raise your hands.”

Both raised their hands to head level.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

Their arms dropped. Keter had thrown a rock, while Amon had thrown paper.

“Round one goes to... Amon!”

Amon grinned.

“I got lucky.”

Keter, who had lost the first round, shrugged like it was no big deal.

“First round’s a freebie.”

That was the end of their chatter.

“Next round,” Joyray called.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

Keter threw rock again. Amon also chose paper again, resulting in the same outcome as before.

“Two in a row? You’re very generous,” Amon teased.

“A handicap for the weak.”

“Heh.”

Keter acted as if he had deliberately let Amon win.

Joyray unconsciously swallowed and said, “Ready?”

The third round began immediately, and the result was decided in just five seconds. This time, Keter threw scissors, predicting that Amon would choose paper for the third time in a row. However, Amon chose rock.

“Oh? I win again.”

Three consecutive wins out of ten games. If Amon won three more times, the game was over. Amon was clearly at a huge advantage. This was no ordinary game; it was a game of death with his life and soul on the line, yet Keter remained relaxed.

Trying to remain calm, Joyray started the next round.

In the fourth round, Keter chose paper, and Amon chose scissors.

“Too easy.”

Amon raised his scissors in the air and congratulated himself on his victory.

Normally, rock-paper-scissors was considered a game of chance. Since the choice was only revealed when the hand reached the waist, there was no way to know what the opponent would throw beforehand.

With three possible choices, the game theoretically gave each option a thirty-three-percent chance of winning. However, those who played it knew that it wasn’t purely a game of luck.

Despite its simplicity, the game was heavily influenced by psychology. Self-proclaimed experts in rock-paper-scissors often claimed they could read their opponent's choice and respond accordingly.

However, things were different in the world of Transcendentals—they could see what the opponent was about to throw. With the reflexes to instantly choose the winning counter, one could determine their move based on the opponent’s hand shape. In other words, rock-paper-scissors between Transcendentals became a contest of vision, speed, and reflexes.

Keter, too, kept his eyes fixed on Amon’s hand. However, Amon showed no tells—no pre-movement or signal.

When forming a rock, the fist remained clenched as it came down, so there was no change to the hand position. To form scissors, however, the index and middle fingers had to be extended, and for paper, all fingers had to be opened.

In other words, there should have been a tell, or some kind of preliminary movement. However, Amon showed none. Only when his hand reached exactly waist level—at that brief instant when no reaction was possible—did he decide his move.

It wasn’t like he was watching Keter’s hand and reacting purely with speed and reflexes. His gaze had not been on Keter’s hand at all.

He’s pretending it’s luck.

Keter didn’t think he had lost because of his speed or reflexes. Ever since he was young, he had a sixty percent win rate in rock-paper-scissors, even against Transcendentals. This was not due to speed, but a battle of psychology. By using hand movements to set traps, even someone with superior physical abilities would fall for them. Those very abilities as a Transcendental would instead become a disadvantage.

But for whatever reason, this strategy wasn’t working on Amon. After three losses, Keter was certain.

He knows what I’m going to throw.

In the fourth round, Keter had deliberately changed his mind repeatedly at the last second. He was planning on throwing scissors, but quickly changed his mind to rock, then paper, then rock again. He changed his mind up to the very last second and ended up throwing paper, but Amon threw scissors and won again, as if he already knew.

It could be luck, as the probability of four consecutive wins wasn’t entirely unfeasible, but Keter was sure that Amon was cheating. Even so, Keter didn’t call it out since he couldn’t prove it. However, this didn’t mean he was going to sit still.

Amon saw Keter’s calm attitude and smirked, trying to irritate him.

“You only have two chances left. Really, thank you so much. Gaining a soul like yours so easily is truly a fortune to me, too.”

“Shut up and raise your hand.”

“As you wish.”

They raised their hands again. As Joyray was about to call it...

“I’ll throw scissors this time,” Keter declared suddenly.

“Have you lost your mind? Ah, right, you always were insane.”

Amon ignored him—or pretended to. In his head, he was laughing at Keter.

Kekeke... It seems like he’s figured something out. Well, it won’t matter anyway.

On Joyray’s signal, their hands dropped. Keter, who had been using subtle hand movements to play mind games with Amon, was unusually still this time.

Just before the reveal, Amon smiled, already confident in his victory.

He’s not a lunatic; he’s an idiot. He’s actually going to throw scissors, as he said.

Certain that Keter was choosing scissors, Amon threw a rock.

“...!”

For the first time, his eyes widened.

Also with wide eyes, Joyray shouted. “Round five goes to... Keter!”