Chapter 201: The Gods Do Not Toss Coins (2)

Neither Balt nor Keter was the one to toss the coin. Instead, Keter called over Six, who had been watching from a distance, and handed him the coin.

“People like us can control the spin so the side we want comes up, so let’s have someone who knows nothing about it do the toss.”

Balt met Six’s lively yet vacant gaze and nodded in agreement. Then, as if by mutual understanding, everyone except Six stepped back five meters from the table.

“Six, flip the coin. Make it land in the center of the table,” Keter ordered.

“Yes.”

Six flipped the coin with his thumb.

Clang!

With a clear sound, the silver coin spun up into the air. Everyone’s gaze followed it. It spun so fast it seemed like a sphere, yet every single person here was able to track its rotations. The spin was so powerful that it even seemed to slow the fall, but eventually, the coin descended toward the table.

Cling!

Normally, once a spinning coin struck the table, the side would be decided almost instantly. However, this coin didn’t stop right away and continued spinning even after hitting the surface, perhaps because the spin was so strong.

“...”

“...”

Everyone stared at the spinning coin in silence.

Dork licked his dry lips, glancing nervously between Balt and Keter.

There are only two sides to a coin: heads and tails. It’s easy to assume each has a fair fifty percent chance, but that’s not really true.

There was a hidden truth about coin tosses:

There’s actually a higher chance of it landing on heads.

First, the standard silver coin used throughout the continent had a minute convexity on the tails side, making it ever so slightly heavier. It was a trivial difference, but enough to make the lighter heads side end up on top around two percent more often.

And Six launched the coin with heads facing up at the start, statistically increasing the chance of heads to about fifty-six...

Even the starting orientation affected the result.

Taking all of that into account, the probability of heads was six percent higher. Six percent might sound negligible, but it was a completely different story when one’s life depended on it. If a hundred lives were at stake and the coin was tossed a hundred times, that extra six percent would mean six more people dying on tails.

But Big Brother, there’s no way you wouldn’t know what I know.

Keter was a gambling master, not because of luck alone but because he could read his opponent and cheat without detection.

Dork was certain Keter would win.

Big Brother, maybe I didn’t catch it, but you’ve already rigged it somehow so that coin will definitely land on tails, right?

Dork glared at the coin as the spin began to slow. The moment of truth: heads or tails. Everyone held their breath until the very last moment, watching silently.

And then... Stillness. The coin stopped.

“...”

“...”

Dork doubted his eyes—no, reality itself. It was as if the coin had simply frozen upright.

I’ve heard people say time slows at moments of extreme focus... Is this what they meant?

He looked around. The world was moving normally, so he wondered why the coin hadn’t fallen to either side.

“Ah... ahhhh! No... it can’t be!” Dork’s eyes flew wide in realization. “The... the coin’s standing!”

The coin hadn’t landed on either heads or tails. The coin stood perfectly upright on the table, as if it had been placed there.

* * *

Balt was the first to speak.

“It’s standing.”

Keter echoed him, “Yeah. It’s standing.”

“Never seen a coin landing upright before.”

“That’s because you always catch it on the back of your hand and flip it onto your palm. Of course you wouldn’t see it standing.”

“I don’t always catch it like that. Sometimes I toss it onto a table like this, or onto the dirt.”

“So... what now?”

Keter stepped up to the table and blew on the upright coin.

Clank.

It toppled forward and landed tails up, as if to prove there had been no trick. Keter picked it up and tossed it to Balt.

“Seems like the gods are saying it’s not our time to die yet, but screw them. Want to toss again?”

Balt rolled the coin in his hand and said, “Keter. I already know you cheated.”

“Hm, trying to corner me like that?”

“You chose to toss the coin onto the table because it was sticky. That sugar coating from the snack you cleaned up earlier melted and left residue. And this table... It looks level from here, but...” Balt moved to where Keter had been sitting and crouched to table height. “...From here, I can see it’s slightly tilted forward. You must have dug into the floor under one of the table legs with your foot.”

Normally, a coin was more likely to land on heads, but with the stickiness slowing it down and the slight forward tilt, the odds reversed, making tails far more likely.

Keter applauded, nodding.

“As expected of Balt, the rival I acknowledge. Impressive deduction. You got it all right. So... is it time to fight?”

Crack!!

The silver coin crumpled in Balt’s hand like soft clay. He opened his palm, letting the warped lump fall to the floor.

Ting.

“I don’t take back a decided outcome. You’ll die, but not today.”

“It’s the opposite. You’re the lucky one, Balt.”

“Luck? Don’t fool yourself, Keter.”

With his back turned, Balt muttered low, “The gods do not toss coins.”

What he meant was that whether a coin landed heads or tails was already determined by the gods it wasn’t chance. Even the fact that it had landed on its edge was the gods’ decision.

Balt turned to leave after his cryptic remark, but Keter wasn’t about to let him go so easily.

“I’m really curious, Balt. If gods don’t toss coins, why are you carrying one?”

Balt froze.

A person leaving after delivering a cool line should never turn back, but Balt stopped mid-stride and looked over his shoulder at Keter.

To both Keter and Balt, this outcome had been an unforeseen variable. Like Balt said, one of them should have died here today, whether it was planned or not.

Keter didn’t mind either way. Life was unpredictable—life in Liqueur was unpredictable. Though he owed Balt before regressing, and though they had a bond of hatred, if they became enemies, he would kill him. That was why Keter stacked the odds for tails.

Still, even if Keter made Balt throw the coin on a sticky table and a careful tilt, it wasn’t a guaranteed outcome; tails was maybe seventy percent likely at best. If it had landed heads, Keter would have stabbed himself in the stomach as he promised. Besides, it didn’t matter since he wouldn’t die anyway. That was why he made this kind of deal in the first place—just in case it would land on heads.

A sword in the abdomen wouldn’t kill Keter, nor would it kill Balt. It would just mean starting the fight at a disadvantage. Both of them had been prepared to accept the coin toss result under those terms. They always had an unspoken understanding like that.

But this time, they couldn’t see eye to eye.

“The gods do not toss coins.”

“Then why are you carrying one?”

Keter’s genuine question made Balt angry.

“Don’t presume to grasp the will of the gods, mortal.”

“Balt, you’re just like an ant.”

“...?”

“From an ant’s point of view, humans are gods. We can decide its fate on a whim. We don’t need aura or special abilities; just being human is enough to be godly beings to ants. But you know as well as I do...” Keter shrugged and stepped closer. “We’re not gods.”

For someone who had experienced regression, Keter’s rejection of divine omnipotence was ironic. However, Keter was sincere.

“I’m not denying the existence of all-powerful gods, but the ones we know—the ones who meddle in our lives—aren’t omnipotent. They’re just stronger and more capable than we are. Remember when you played with ants as a kid? You didn’t do it out of malice. You were just bored. You didn’t care about the ants’ lives. And if even we’re indifferent to them, why would an actual god bother to interfere in the human world?”

In fact, his regression made him more certain that no such god existed.

If the Queen of Liqueur or the kings of other nations were truly omnipotent, they would have noticed the moment I regressed. I wouldn’t be standing here now.

No one, not even those called gods, knew about his regression. Then, the being who granted it could be called a god, but Keter didn’t believe that either.

Regression might look like a god’s power, but that is from a human perspective.

Indeed, regression was a godly ability, but that didn’t mean the user was a god; they just happened to have that ability.

And the fact that it’s my mother is bonkers.

Keter had thought about this when he first regressed: why had she abandoned him in Liqueur? What purpose did regression serve? He chose not to speculate, but not just for lack of clues.

If they want something from me, they will come to me first, even if they’re a god.

Until then, Keter would do what he could and what he must.

Ordinary people often lost their minds upon encountering a godlike being. Their spirit would be crushed, like someone seeing the infinite cosmos and feeling the futility of their own existence, or a warrior falling into despair after meeting someone leagues beyond them.

But Keter had been born into Liqueur’s brutal world and met every misfortune head-on; he had experienced despair plenty of times. He had lost precious things over and over, gone through the stages of grieving his own weakness, and finally come to accept it. From that, he had gained one insight: never dwell on the cause of the misfortune and focus only on how to overcome it. That was how Keter lived.

“Big Brother...”

Hearing Keter’s thoughts on gods brought tears to Dork’s eyes.

To think I still doubted you... Now, I’ll believe you even if you tell me you killed Queen Lillian.

Dork secretly made a vow.

Balt stared at Keter, not with malice but with weight.

“You have no idea what I’ve seen. I see a future where you regret this choice.”

“Of course I don’t know. I didn’t see it, I didn’t hear it. And I’ve no intention of convincing you of anything. I just say what I want to say. You know why, right?”

Keter never hid his feelings. If anyone asked why, he always gave the same answer.

“Because I can’t be sure we’ll meet again.”

Balt inhaled through his mouth and exhaled through his nose. He smiled faintly.

“Keter... I ask you, and I pray to whatever god might listen—stay alive so you can die by my sword.”

Keter winked.

“Then you’d better hurry. I’m quite popular. It’s first come, first served.”

And with that, Balt left.

* * *

The original plan had shifted, but Keter left Joyray’s tavern basement and headed for the Infinite Bank.

However, he couldn’t avoid hearing about Joyray’s past. On the way, Joyray began recounting how he became a mercenary, what led him to work as a councilman, and how he eventually came to Liqueur.

Keter half-listened, letting the words go in one ear and out the other, before saying to Dork, “Give me a one-line summary later.”

Though the streets of Liqueur were tense, no one was stupid enough to pick a fight with Keter and Joyray. Thus, they arrived at the fortress-like Infinite Bank without incident. As a special member and as the branch manager of the Liqueur Mercenary Guild, Keter requested a meeting with the branch manager.

But instead, the deputy manager gave him an unexpected reply.

“My apologies, but please wait a moment. The branch manager is currently in a meeting with another special member.”