Chapter 20: The at Market
??The courtyard dissolves into absolute chaos.
??The headmaster’s voice hasn’t even faded before the screaming starts. The polite veneer of the Academy shatters instantly, replaced by a desperate at market of terrified students.
??People are shoving, crying, and shouting their stats to anyone who will listen, broadcasting their weaknesses to the entire arena like frightened cattle trying to sell themselves to the butcher.
??"I need a Vanguard!"
??"Who has Iron Skin?"
??"I’m paying fifty Scales for a healer! Fifty up front!"
??"Get out of my way, trash!"
??"Rank E Pyromancer looking for a tank! High DPS, low mana cost!"
??I watch them from the shadow of a pillar, feeling a mix of pity and disgust. In the Deep, announcing your class at the top of your lungs is a suicide note. It tells every assassin exactly where to stick the knife.
??But here, fear makes them stupid. They think volu equals value.
??I remain motionless. Running is useless.
??The magical barrier is already rising—a shimring do of violet energy forcing an Oathring over the entire courtyard. I can feel the static charge in the air, the heavy pressure of the spell locking us in. PvP is hell expensive outside of it, but inside? It’s open season.
??Even if I could move, I have nowhere to go.
??I am marked.
??My tactical options are flashing red in my mind: full OXI, but a broken weapon, zero allies, and a combat potential that wouldn’t scare a goblin. If an organized team decides to focus , I won’t last ten seconds. I have the knowledge of a teacher, but the body of a victim.
??Then, a high, relaxed laugh cuts through the panic.
??The crowd parts a hundred feet away, making space for the only person who looks like he’s attending a garden party.
??Veric Azure stands surrounded by eight n in heavy, dark-blue plate armor. These aren’t students trying to find a party; they are House Gladius—elite martial retainers bred to protect the high nobility. They look at the chaotic students with the bored indifference of wolves watching sheep.
??Veric whispers sothing to his lieutenant, a man with a face full of scars and eyes like dead fish. The soldier smirks and shoots a glance directly at .
??The ssage is clear. We see you.
??Veric steps away from his phalanx and begins to walk toward . He moves slowly, deliberately, savoring the approach while his guards fan out into a loose semicircle, effectively cutting off any escape route.
??My hand spasms over the broken hilt of Eventide. Every instinct from my past life screams at
to run, to use the pillars as cover, to kite him, to find an angle. But my current reality is a cold bucket of water.
??I analyze him purely on trics.
Veric is wearing a customized Tidebreaker armor set. It’s enchanted heavy plate, probably resistant to kinetic impact and minor elental spells. Even if I ignite my ether blade, I lack the physical torque to penetrate that plating. He is likely a High Rank D, possibly touching C thanks to family resources.
??A single strike from him would shatter my ribcage before I could even draw breath.
??I let go of the sword and force my shoulders to relax.
??There is no point in fighting. If he wants an apology or public humiliation to soothe his bruised ego, I’ll give it to him. Survival is a currency I value more than pride. I’ve eaten trash to survive in the slums; I can eat a little humble pie to survive a deathmatch.
??I prepare myself, bracing for a slap, a shove, or a gauntlet to the face.
??Veric stops less than three feet away, blocking out the sun. His shadow swallows . He lifts his tal-gloved hand, and I flinch—just a micro-movent, but enough to betray my nerves.
??"Sands," he says, his voice unnervingly calm.
??I open my eyes.
??The hand isn’t raised to strike. It is extended, palm open, waiting.
??"You look like a man who knows how to count," Veric says. The malicious grin is still there, but it has twisted into sothing sharp and transactional. "So calculate this: I protect your back. You finance my victory."
??The air leaves my lungs in a long, shaky sigh. I look at his open palm, then up at his arrogant face.
??He doesn’t want my blood. He wants my wallet.
??To him, I’m not a rival; I’m a "Whale". A fat sheep with a heavy purse who needs a shepherd. He saw the Pure Shards at the gate. He saw the careless way I threw money around.
Does he really thinks I’m so obscure noble scion from a distant capital, loaded with resources but lacking military power?
??I almost laugh out loud with relief, but I catch myself. I push the fear down and pull up the mask.
??If he wants a rich patron, I’ll sell him the fable. But a rich man doesn’t just roll over. A rich man negotiates.
??I don’t take his hand imdiately. Instead, I cross my arms, leaning back slightly against the pillar, feigning a boredom I absolutely do not feel.
??"That sounds expensive," I say, keeping my voice smooth. "And frankly, I prefer to choose my own employees. What happens if I decline?"
??Veric doesn’t seems angry. He doesn’t threaten to punch .
??He just smiles. A cold, polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the smile of a man who owns the board.
??He gestures vaguely to the chaotic arena around us.
??"Look around, Sands. The mont that Oathring seals, logic dies. Without a team, you are prey. You have no armor, a broken sword, and you sll like the Slums."
??He steps a fraction closer, invading my personal space.
??"If you decline, you save your gold, certainly. But you won’t survive the first ten minutes. And once you are eliminated... well, I have resources outside the Academy too. I will find out who you are and where you get your Shards eventually."
??He tilts his head, his voice dropping to a whisper.
??"The difference is: do you want to be my partner inside, or my target outside? The first option is much more... profitable. For both of us."
??Smart, I think. He trapped .
??He isn’t just bullying; he’s leveraging the environnt. He knows I have no cards to play. He’s offering
a lifeline that doubles as a leash.
??"You make a compelling argunt," I say, dropping my arms. "A rcenary proposal, then? I thought House Azure fought for honor, not payroll."
??"Honor is expensive," he counters, wiggling his fingers impatiently. "And I plan to win with a large margin. Do we have a deal?"
??I pause, letting the silence hang for a second longer. Then, I grab his tal hand.
??"Deal. But you better be worth the investnt."
??Veric doesn’t let go. His grip tightens, grinding the bones of my knuckles.
??"One condition," he says, his eyes narrowing. "A little side wager. To test your... investnt potential."
??"I’m listening."
??"Headcount. Whoever drops more bodies in the arena wins."
??He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
??"If I win, you tell
the truth. No stories, no masks. You tell
exactly which hole you crawled out of and where you got military-grade Pure Shards."
??My pulse spikes. He’s sharper than he looks. He suspects. He knows the math doesn’t add up.
??"And if I win?" I ask, keeping my face blank.
??"Then I cover your OXI tab. Full expenses. For a year."
??My breath catches.
??A year of OXI? With my consumption rate? That’s thousands of scales. That’s freedom. That’s enough ti to fix the tiline without dying of thirst. It’s a prize worth killing for.
??I look at his arrogant face. He thinks I’m a wallet. He has no idea he just bet against a man who morized the apocalypse.
??"You’re on," I say, squeezing his hand back.
??Veric laughs, but there is no warmth in it. He pulls
slightly closer, his tal gauntlet grinding against my palm.
??"Excellent," he whispers, his voice dropping so the guards can’t hear. "Just rember one thing, Sands. You are an investnt. If you beco a liability in that arena... I will cut my losses. And your throat."
??He lets go of my hand and shoves
lightly toward his guards, dismissing
like a servant.
??"Now, stand back," he commands, turning to face the arena. "And try to look expensive."
??I stumble back a step, catching my balance. I straighten my jacket, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles.
??I smile at his back. A cold, genuine smile.
He thinks he owns .
He has no idea he just let a wolf into the fold.
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