Rain fell through the gaps in the hollow dome, pooling into a blood-red stream on the lime-stone tiles below.
The sound of rain, the sharp clash of swords and axes, and the hoarse shouts of the honored spectators echoed through the underground arena, occasionally pierced by the affectation of a waitress’s low moan, together composing a symphony tinged with the scent of rust.
Two distinct stacks of chips sat on the betting table, while thousands of coins clattered on the spinning wheels behind them.
These waves of coins were all thrown towards the towering, muscular gladiator on the right.
He wielded a battle axe and wore heavy armor; rumors said he was a Fallen Knight.
As the reigning Champion of Ten Crowns here, it was an unspoken consensus among the gamblers that he would win this duel.
On the left stood a dwarf-sized figure, shrouded entirely in a cloak and holding only an old sword—she looked nothing like a contender.
Under the knight’s fierce axe blows, she constantly dodged and twisted, occasionally managing to parry a strike before fleeing in retreat.
No one was willing to bet on her victory.
Facing the towering armored knight, the lone sword she carried seemed laughably inadequate—like the star performer of a circus troupe.
She was just another unlucky soul destined to fall beneath the axe.
“Hurry up and finish her!” “What are you stalling for!” The shouts from the stands rose one after another.
“I want to place a bet.”
The clear, youthful voice sounded out, oddly out of place here.
The Manager quickly looked up at the voice.
The girl before him wore a mask, but beneath it was the uniform of the Imperial Capital Magic Academy.
That school was coveted by countless noble families across the kingdoms.
The lowest-ranked students there were at least the sons and daughters of barons.
The Manager didn’t dare be negligent.
He immediately forced on a flattering smile and eagerly introduced the two fighters in the arena to the young lady.
Though the betting period had officially ended, if this young lady was generous with her money, the Manager didn’t mind occasionally opening a door of convenience.
He had already heard that among the wealthy noblewomen obsessed with tales of knights and princesses, many were enamored with that Fallen Knight.
They bet lavishly, spending money without restraint, and this Magic Academy heiress likely followed the same pattern.
With renewed enthusiasm, he boasted about the Fallen Knight’s valor, but the girl frowned, clearly uninterested.
Her sapphire-blue eyes pierced through the mask, swiftly sweeping past the knight and locking firmly onto the small swordswoman.
She casually tossed a handful of gold coins from her purse, precisely landing them on the left’s betting wheel.
The Manager saw clearly—ten gold coins at least in that handful.
That sum alone could buy a manor and several slaves in his rural hometown, allowing him a life of ease.
His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed, suppressing the surprise threatening to show on his face.
This noble lady’s generosity was staggering; her bet nearly evened out the gap between the two sides’ chips.
Even betting on a dark horse required that horse to prove its worth.
The Manager glanced at the fight unfolding in the arena.
The dwarf was being tightly suppressed by the Fallen Knight, and the outcome seemed all but decided.
This was utterly against reason.
“Excuse me, miss… May I be so bold as to ask if you possess some insider information?”
“Yes.” The girl answered plainly, her gaze never leaving the dwarf swordswoman. “That swordswoman will never lose to this low-class trash.”
Low-class trash.
The knight, who had claimed the Champion of Ten Crowns title ten times in a row, was the arena’s star.
Yet the girl dismissed her with a single, casual phrase.
The Manager’s heart skipped a beat.
He felt as though he had been set up.
He scrambled in his mind to recall the swordswoman’s background but drew a blank.
She had volunteered to participate and had shown no outstanding performance in previous duels.
She was the background filler this place had no shortage of.
He looked up at the noble lady again.
She wasn’t playing games.
She was confident, resolute, as if she already knew the swordswoman’s true identity.
The girl then pulled out two more gold coins and added them to the left’s bet. “If you agree to a small, insignificant request from me… those two coins just now can be considered my personal sponsorship for your bet, Manager.”
Two gold coins.
If she lost, she’d lose nothing; if she won… those two coins would serve as capital to make a good profit.
“As long as it’s within my authority.” The Manager’s heart was tempted.
Money to be made—how could he refuse?
And doing a favor might earn him some goodwill with this noble lady.
This underground arena never turned away clients eager to spend lavishly.
“I won’t trouble you. I only want to meet that gladiator after the duel. Is that possible?”
The girl signed with a flourish—“Castellan”—among the bettors, and the Manager felt as if the world spun around him.
Castellan’s generosity left no doubt she was the heiress of the Ducal House of Castellan, known as the “Northern Sun.”
That Sun possessed the empire’s largest gold and Magic Crystal mines and was never short on money.
The young lady before him was undoubtedly the daughter of the Sun.
“Of course it’s possible. It’s our honor to have the Lady of the Castellan House grace us with her presence.” Cold sweat soaked the Manager’s shirt stretched tight across his back.
He dared not offend this duchess’s daughter.
Angering her might result in being thrown into the frozen plains of the far north by her father, the Sun.
“I will return on time.” The girl turned away satisfied, leaving the Manager slumped in his armchair.
Peering through the door crack, he watched the battle’s progress in the arena.
The Fallen Knight was actually struck down by a lightning-fast counterattack from the dwarf.
The dwarf probably held back—the Fallen Knight wasn’t dead but was knocked unconscious by the weighted ball at the hilt’s end, smashed onto the back of his head.
The crowd erupted, curses, despair, and roars colliding nonstop, yet the dwarf swordswoman remained unmoved, not even bowing to the crowd.
Rain washed over her cloak, and wordlessly she bent to gather the coins the spectators had originally thrown to her opponent.
When she looked up, her red eyes blazed like torches.
The Manager felt he’d seen those red eyes somewhere before.
Anna walked through the narrow, damp alleys of the Imperial Capital, spinning several silver coins in the palm of her hand—her entire fortune.
Her whole body ached, and the web between thumb and forefinger on her right hand was split and bleeding, the rain stinging the wound painfully.
She cursed in her heart the gambler who had broken the rules and manipulated the odds.
She had counted on a surprise upset to turn a small bet into a fortune, but only learned after leaving the arena that someone had placed heavy bets after the deadline, evening out the odds and leaving her empty-handed.
If only she hadn’t put on an act during the fight and just ended it quickly with two strikes.
She had forced herself to pretend frailty during the post-fight betting window, playing the part of a weakling who couldn’t win despite her best efforts.
She’d taken dozens of axe blows for nothing, leaving her thumb wounded and her sword broken.
Then some rotten bastard had messed things up, and all her efforts had gone to waste.
After all that, buying medicine and a new sword left her with only a handful of silver coins.
Why was she even bothering to be a gladiator?
Might as well wash up and sell herself at a bar.
At least selling herself at the bar earned real money, and she was already planning to do just that tonight.
Fighting fixed matches in the arena by day, serving drinks at the bar by night—all for the money.
More money.
For money, she would do anything.
She had debts to repay.
No gambling father, no sick mother, no younger brother studying.
Her debts had fallen from the sky.
Everyone dreamed of pies falling from the sky.
So had she.
But when she reached out, all that fell was a cold debt she never wanted but could only owe.
Five years ago, she was still hailed as one of the “Five Heroes” summoned from another world—the Sword Hero.
They were reborn in borrowed bodies; the king relied on them, the princess adored them, the people sang their praises, and all hoped they would carry the hope of defeating the Demon King.
It should have been a righteous tale where good triumphs over evil.
At first, it was.
But why had the story gone astray?
Two years later—three years ago—the battle-hardened heroes set out, cutting through obstacles and foes, reaching the Demon King’s castle only to be spectacularly defeated and retreat in disgrace.
Normally, the tale would then unfold into a story of eventual reversal—the underdog rising after hardship.
But upon returning to the kingdom, the heroes met not tears or warm encouragement but accusations of “incompetent,” “trash,” and “tax thieves.” The king ordered severe punishment for the shameful, defeated heroes—their fate was a Public Trial.
To dodge blame, the heroes turned on each other.
The Spear Hero, husband to the princess, pinned the blame for defeat on the Sword Hero, while the Shield, Bow, and Staff Heroes remained silent at the Public Trial.
What came after is something Anna refused to recall.
The rain grew heavier and colder.
Would it hurt business at the bar tonight? Anna worried, tightening her cloak around her.
Her shirt had been slashed during the duel, and the skin exposed between her shorts and navel bore a vivid rose-red Slave Mark.
It was her humiliation.
For three years, she often dreamed of that afternoon when the mark was branded—magic burning her body and soul, the pain magnified endlessly in her nightmares.
Every time she woke, there was not even a cup of warm water beside her.
Her sword was broken, her cloak torn, the wind cold and the rain harsh.
She barely managed to wrap the drafty cloak tight enough to cover the secret hidden on her belly.
She desperately needed money to repay her debts.
She still had unfinished business.
One day, she would return to that shattered battlefield.
She would personally slay the Demon King and reclaim everything buried beneath that city.
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