Chapter 73: Stop—Are You Pulling a Fast One on Me? (5)

The reason why so many mercenaries were supporting Keter was simple: all of them owed him a debt—either financially or emotionally. The mercenaries who supported Keter were easy to spot as they had all gathered behind him.

Luke, beaming with satisfaction, began counting.

“Twenty-five!”

“...!”

Cork’s frown deepened. As Luke said, a total of twenty-five mercenaries—more than half—were backing Keter.

Then, he suddenly became enthusiastic as he said, “Wait! Don’t forget, I’m a mercenary before I’m the branch manager. I still have my vote!”

“You already used it,” Keter interjected, raising his middle finger. “Like this.”

“...!”

“What kind of man, let alone a mercenary who lives by his word, would change their words? Oh, wait—you already did.”

“

Grrr

!”

If Cork hadn’t hastily cast his vote earlier, the tally would have ended in a tie between him and Keter. By the rule requiring a majority, Keter would have lost. Cork had effectively dug his own grave.

Keter placed a hand on his chest and declared, “So, I’m the branch manager now, right?”

“Nonsense! Fine, if you’re really this determined, then I’ll remind you of your place through the mercenary tradition: the Goddess’ Trial!”

The mercenaries couldn’t hide their excitement at Cork’s declaration.

“It’s been years since we’ve had a Goddess’ Trial.”

“This will be my first time seeing one.”

While the mercenaries clearly understood what the Goddess’ Trial was, Luke had no clue.

“What is this ‘Goddess’ Trial’?” Luke boldly asked Cork.

“How absurd. You came to the mercenary guild without even knowing what the Goddess’ Trial is? It’s a duel and a sacred rite for mercenaries.”

Mercenaries worshipped Nica, the Goddess of Fortune. When disputes arose among them, they resolved the matter by testing both luck and skill.

Cork pointed to the request plates displayed on the bulletin board. These plates were small, thin, metal plates that fit in one hand. The back of each token was smooth and unmarked, while the front displayed the request title and its rank.

The mercenaries collected all the request tokens from the board and scattered them across a table. The requests ranged in rank from C-rank to S-rank.

Placing his hand on the table, Cork continued, “We’ll shuffle these request tokens and split them between Keter and me. The Goddess of Fortune never gives mercenaries impossible tasks. This will test luck and whoever completes their assigned quests first will prove their skill and win the Goddess’ Trial.”

“That’s not too hard to understand,” Luke remarked.

There were thirty request tokens in total: one C-rank, which was the lowest rank, twenty-five B-rank, three A-rank, and one S-rank. The odds overwhelmingly favored drawing a B-rank quest. With poor luck, someone might draw the S-rank token, but with good fortune, they could end up with the easier C-rank token.

Luke thought this would be a pure contest of luck, free from any trickery.

Clang!

Cork shuffled the request tokens. His movements were anything but ordinary.

“Keter, do you mind me shuffling and dividing the tokens? If you want, we can let another mercenary handle it.”

“Just do it.”

“Alright, then.”

Clang! Click!

Cork mixed the tokens with both hands. Since the backs of the tokens were completely identical, it was impossible to tell the quests apart without flipping them over.

“I’ll draw first. Keter, you’ll go next.”

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Cork took the topmost token. As he prepared to pass the next token to Keter...

“Stop. Are you trying to pull a fast one on me?”

Keter grabbed Cork’s right wrist roughly, the one holding the token.

“W-what are you doing?!”

Flustered, Cork tried to pull away, but Keter swiftly drew a dagger from his belt.

“The token you took—it’s the easiest C-rank quest, isn’t it? And the one you’re about to give me is the S-rank quest, right?”

“You crazy bastard! Even if you’re right, it’s just luck!”

Luke, watching anxiously, quickly interjected, “Show us the token! Is it really C-rank?”

“Don’t touch the token!”

Crack!

Keter threw his dagger into the table, stopping Luke’s hand. He immediately pulled out another dagger, pointing it directly at Cork’s face.

“Feeling wronged? Let’s do this. You and I swap tokens. Then we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

“I have no reason to agree to that.”

“Oh, really? Why not? What if the token you have is S-rank and mine is C-rank? No one knows for sure. Why are you so reluctant to swap? It’s almost as if... you already know what they are.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I just don’t want to give you my luck, that’s all!”

“You’re talking too much.”

Flick.

Keter’s dagger flipped over the token.

The watching mercenaries gasped in shock, “Keter’s token is an S-rank quest!”

“Then what about the branch manager’s token?!”

It was possible that Keter unluckily drew the S-rank request token. However, the odds of Cork pulling the C-rank token were extremely slim. A mercenary standing behind Cork attempted to reveal his token, but Luke, sensing something suspicious, intervened.

“I’ll check it myself.”

Before Cork or the other mercenaries could react, the token was flipped.

Again, the mercenaries gasped, “C-rank! Just like Keter said!”

“So he really did cheat?”

Even those who supported Cork exchanged uneasy glances.

Cork hastily shouted in defense, “It’s just luck! It’s not impossible, so why are you all making such a fuss? Keter’s just causing a scene! Let go of me!”

Cork reached for his dagger, preparing to retaliate, but...

Thunk.

Keter’s dagger became embedded into the table along with Cork’s ring finger.

“...!”

Cork’s eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t even react; he didn’t even realize that Keter had stabbed his finger. The pain hit him moments later, but he couldn't even scream.

Instead, one question echoed in his mind.

Was he always this fast?

Keter’s reputation as one of the Five Lunatics of Liqueur wasn’t solely due to his overwhelming strength. It was his rabid-dog mentality that allowed him to fearlessly charge into danger, fearless of death or disfigurement. His relentless determination and ruthless willingness to use any means necessary were his weapons.

But this time, Keter’s movements weren’t just wild; they were swift and precise, leaving even a Diamond-class mercenary like Cork utterly blindsided.

“You messed with the cards, so I’ll take the finger as your reward.”

Keter flicked the severed ring finger to Luke, who instinctively caught it despite his horror.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Hold onto it. I’ll add it to my collection later.”

“Ugh...”

Reluctantly, Luke wrapped the finger in a handkerchief and stashed it away.

Meanwhile, Cork, now bandaging his severed finger, retorted, “You cut my finger without evidence. Have you lost your mind?”

“When did mercenaries start needing evidence to use their blades? If something seems off, you stab first and figure it out later. If you’re wrong, you just fight it out.”

“Ha, fair enough, but I didn’t cheat. The fact that I drew the C-rank and you the S-rank? That’s simply the fate decided by the goddess.”

Now, everyone knew why Cork wasn’t furious at Keter: losing a finger was a calculated price to pay for giving the S-rank request to Keter.

Luke, exasperated, stepped forward.

“That’s ridiculous! Obviously, we need to redraw!”

“No, we’ll stick with this.”

“Keter?! Do you even know what the request is? We’ll lose for sure!”

The descriptions of the requests were in one corner of the guild. The C-rank request Cork had drawn was a simple chore of moving heavy goods, which only required strength. Of course, it was multiple long-distance deliveries from one end of the city to the other. Given Liqueur’s reputation, this request was still dangerous due to the thieves on the streets.

However, Cork was a Diamond-class mercenary. Only fools would dare target the goods he was assigned to deliver. No matter how heavy the load or how far the distance, it wouldn’t take him more than half a day to complete the mission. The only caveat was that the mission’s start date wasn’t today or tomorrow, but four days later.

On the other hand, the details of the S-rank request were impossible; the gap in difficulty between their missions was astronomical.

—Locate and Eliminate an A-rank Named Monster

—Client: Godfather Alkione

—Reward: 20,000 gold

—Details: Eliminate Red Comet, the Named Monster that has been wreaking havoc in Liqueur.

—Special Notes: The creature resembles a bat and possesses S-rank stealth and speed abilities. Human senses cannot detect this monster and require magic, sorcery, or special abilities. It moves at a speed undetectable even by Diamond-class mercenaries, so carry multiple steel nets for capture.

—Location: The entire region of Liqueur.

A Named Monster was a title given only to monsters that had killed at least one hundred humans and survived for over a year. Named Monsters were not just exceptionally strong—they were also intelligent enough to judge situations.

An A-rank monster, on average, required a five-star knight—a Master—to kill it. However, Red Comet seemed to have earned its rank because it was incredibly dangerous and nearly impossible to locate or capture.

Even so, in the mercenary world, the only ones capable of facing a Master would be those of the Amantir-class, which exceeded Diamond-class. While Diamond-class mercenaries were already exceedingly rare, Amantir-class mercenaries were nearly mythical. Liqueur, for instance, had no mercenaries of that rank at all.

Luke, who had extensive knowledge of Named Monsters, was fully aware of how impossible this mission was.

I believe Keter can do just about anything, but this is just unreasonable.

As someone who knew that an A-rank Named Monster surpassed people like the Spear Dragon Jordic or the Blade Bird Tribe, Luke once again tried to dissuade Keter.

“Keter, let’s redraw. An A-rank Named Monster typically requires twenty Diamond-class mercenaries or an entire elite knight order to take down. No, it is something beyond a monster. Even for you, this is just too much. And look at this; the branch manager got a C-rank mission. Even if you somehow manage to pull this off, there’s just not enough time. How are you supposed to hunt down an A-rank monster in only four days?”

Luke didn’t underestimate Keter’s abilities. If given enough time, he believed Keter could somehow take down an A-rank Named Monster. But this was a race against the clock. The task wasn’t just to complete the mission—it had to be done before the opponent.

Cork’s C-rank mission could be completed in half a day, though it wouldn’t start for another four days. In theory, Keter had four days of leeway. However, that also meant Keter had to locate and eliminate an A-rank Named Monster within four days.

How could he possibly track a monster with top-tier stealth capabilities in such a short time? And even if he found it, how would he defeat it? The target was a bat—a flying creature. To capture a bat flying at supersonic speeds, even the skies would have to be sealed off. Such an operation would be anything but simple.

“You think it will be impossible?”

Luke nodded vigorously.

“Do all of you think that as well?” Keter asked the crowd of mercenaries.

Everyone seemed to wonder why Keter even bothered asking.

“You think so too, right?” Keter said as he glanced at Cork, who crossed his arms.

“And if I do?”

“Answer me clearly. Are you confident you can win or not?”

“I am confident.”

“Can you bet everything you own on it?”

“What?”

“Apart from the trial itself, let’s make a bet with everything you’ve got.”

“Typical. Ignoring the mission and planning to kill me to claim victory, right?”

“That’s just like you to assume. If you’re worried, I’ll promise this: I won’t kill you to win the trial. I’ll complete my mission faster than you. Do you know why?”

Keter paused briefly, then flashed a dazzling smile.

“Revenge, you see, tastes best when it’s utterly satisfying. There’s nothing quite as thrilling as dragging someone to rock bottom the moment they think they’ve won.”

“...”

“For the record, my total assets are around two million gold: seven hundred thousand in cash, and my belongings would sell for another 1.3 million at minimum.”

Everyone gasped at how much money Keter had.

“I figured he had a lot of money, but not

that

much.”

“With that kind of wealth, he could become a high-ranking noble!”

“That’s an insane amount. It has to be a lie.”

Even Luke couldn’t believe what Keter was saying, so he leaned in and whispered, “Keter, is that true?”

Keter whispered back.

“I’m bluffing.”

“Ah, I thought so.”

“If I count the things I can’t sell, it’s over 5 million gold.”

“...!?”

Keter turned back to Cork.

“Not confident? Even with your C-rank mission, you can’t beat me with my S-rank one?”

“...”

Cork hesitated, buying time, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Keter, what is your plan?

No matter how hard Cork thought, he couldn’t figure out Keter’s intent.

He’s going to win by completing the S-rank mission fairly without killing or sabotaging me?

Cork’s calculations deemed that outright impossible. After all, the Red Comet extermination was a task even the Godfather, who was revered as Liqueur’s god, had failed and passed down to mercenaries.

But Keter was so confident, even willing to wager his entire fortune, that it made Cork uneasy.

Damn it, too many people are watching.

If no one else had been around, Cork wouldn’t have even considered accepting the bet. But there were too many mercenaries here, and every one of them was a Gold-class mercenary. He couldn’t afford to show any sign of weakness in front of them, let alone disgrace himself.

“How is this even a debate? If it were anyone else but you, they would accept immediately, afraid I would change your mind. Isn’t that right?”

Keter’s provocations continued. Cork’s eyes flared wide at the goading.

Yes, this has to be it. It’s... a bluff! This is Keter’s insane gamble to nullify the mission—there could be no other explanation!

"Fine! I’ll bet my entire fortune as well!" Cork declared boldly.

His voice brimmed with belated confidence. It wasn’t a perfect response, but it was good enough.

Keter grinned slyly and pulled a contract and a fountain pen from his coat.

"Let’s not just talk but put it in writing. It’ll be easier for both of us that way, don’t you think?"

Scribble!

Keter drafted the contract with remarkable speed, his pen flying across the page.

Cork no longer hesitated. He was convinced that everything Keter was doing was mere bluffing. Even the act of writing the contract seemed like a final attempt to intimidate.

"The loser of the Goddess' Trial will transfer their entire fortune to the winner. No hidden clauses, I see."

Cork grabbed the fountain pen. The pen absorbed a drop of his blood, turning it into ink.

Scratch.

The moment Cork signed the contract, a faint light emanated from it. From this point forward, neither Cork nor Keter could nullify the contract or pretend to be ignorant.

Keter tucked the contract into his coat and stretched.

"Ugh, convincing a coward to sign a contract is harder than an S-rank mission."

His tone icy, Cork retorted coldly, "If you’re done, take the request plate and get lost."

Whoosh!

Cork threw the S-rank request plate at Keter. He caught it easily and immediately tossed it to Luke. Luke grabbed it without hesitation and slipped it into his pocket.

"Hey, branch manager. Since no one else is giving you advice, I’ll do it. If you think you’re going to lose, at least try running."

With those words, Keter left the mercenary guild.

The mercenaries who supported Keter naturally followed him out, leaving Cork behind. He glared at those who were leaving, his eyes burning with killing intent.