“Gourmet... Ogre, tsk. Interesting.” The fat manager rubbed his hands. “Are you really confident?”
He wouldn't let Ogre die on stage, but if he was defeated too quickly, it wouldn't be much of a show.
“I'm coming in as a challenger, so of course I am confident.” Ogre pulled out the gold coins from his waist and placed them on the table. The crisp clinking of gold coins always managed to capture the attention of bipedal apes.
“If I lose, this money of mine can serve as collateral.” Ogre pushed his coin pouch forward.
Opening a betting pool would inevitably attract wagers.
But no matter how high the odds were for such a suicidal challenge, probably no one would bet on an Apprentice.
The arena needed gimmicks, but they were not in the business of throwing money away.
As for match-fixing... did people really think those spectating nobles were only capable of watching?
To verify if a match was rigged, it usually only took one more challenger.
“I can only try my best to keep you alive,” the fat manager emphasized repeatedly. The underlying message was clear: there would be no fixing; everything depended on his own strength.
“In the past, hasn't there been someone who turned the tables and killed a Professional while still at the Apprentice-level?” Ogre said with a confident smile.
If nothing else, there was such a story in the legends of the Dragon-Slayer Knight.
“Let's just play by the rules. I merely want to test myself, nothing more.” Ogre untied the drawstring of his coin pouch, revealing the gold coins inside.
Based on the odds, this would be the match where he stood to earn the most.
Thus, Ogre had brought nearly half of his savings—a whopping eighty gold coins.
The pool's funds had to be balanced by opposing bets; if the gap was too large—exceeding ten percent—the betting pool would lock.
You might make a fortune, but the arena would almost never lose.
Most of the arena's primary income actually came from the seemingly insignificant handling fees charged during betting.
This ensured that even if the arena suffered an occasional loss, it wouldn't lose too much, and the money would eventually flow back through subsequent pools.
“Alright then, I'll set it up for you.” The fat manager couldn't quite fathom where Ogre got his confidence from.
So this time, he didn't plan to inject additional funds into the pool himself, fearing he might actually lose his own capital.
These eighty gold coins, combined with the ticket sales from these two matches, would definitely be enough to kickstart the pool.
“The odds this time are probably going to be absolutely staggering...”
...
“The betting pool is open! Placing bets now!”
Aside from the nobles who bought seated tickets inside the arena, it was also exceptionally lively outside.
However, unlike the nobles who were mainly concerned with the fights themselves, most of the gamblers gathered here couldn't even bring themselves to shell out the money to go inside and watch.
They only cared about what the odds were for this pool.
After all, there were very few places in the city as ‘fair’ as the arena. In many people's minds, this was their only chance to win big money from the noble lords!
Most gamblers were banking on this single opportunity to make a fortune.
However, making this money was actually quite difficult.
Because they had to wait for the noble lords and the spectating Professionals inside to finish placing their bets before they could purchase what was left.
To make this money, they still had to wait on the whims of the nobles inside the arena.
“My God, by Truth, what kind of ridiculous odds are these?!”
Ogre versus Raging Bear.
Ogre Wins—1:48 (Betting one gold coin can earn forty-seven gold coins.)
Raging Bear Wins—1:1.02 (Betting one gold coin can earn two silver coins.)
Draw—1:100 (Betting one gold coin can earn ninety-nine gold coins.)
(Note: Winning bets will also be subject to a five percent handling fee.)
The staggering odds caught the gamblers' attention almost instantly.
“I know this Raging Bear guy. He's lost quite a few matches. He's considered weak among Professionals.”
Someone ‘in the know’ began to share gossip.
“But who the hell is this Ogre? I've never heard of him. Did they actually capture a real ogre raider?”
Humans fighting monsters was also a feature of the arena, but matches like that usually weren't structured this way.
“Who cares!”
At this point, the younger gamblers could no longer resist and began purchasing chips for Ogre's victory.
The insane odds had completely overpowered their rationality; all they worried about now was whether they would miss out on the remaining chips.
Once the ratio of the chips became unbalanced—exceeding ten percent of the single ticket sales plus one side's total pool—further purchases would be frozen until the other side caught up.
(Note: Invested funds are calculated after being converted based on the odds ratio.)
That was why the young gamblers were in such a frantic rush.
However, most of the older, more experienced gamblers held back their immediate desires, waiting for the latest firsthand news.
“I heard he's an Apprentice!” someone finally blurted out “Ogre's” true status.
This caused the faces of the gamblers who had already bought chips to change color instantly.
“Fuck! Give me a refund!” someone screamed in rage.
But the arena guards were always there to teach these gamblers some manners.
“Forget it, let's gamble!” Even after learning the truth, there were still gamblers who chose to roll the dice.
They anticipated the occurrence of a miracle that would grant them a sudden windfall!
People like this, even if they obtained temporary wealth, would eventually lose it all to various circumstances.
“The minimum bet is one silver coin. Betting one gold coin only earns two silver coins... and they even take a copper coin as a handling fee. The returns are a bit too low.” Some gamblers were put off by the meager returns on the favorite.
Naturally, if the returns didn't exceed five copper coins, the arena would waive the handling fee.
This rule prompted commoners to drag in even more people to spread out the bets and ‘help out,’ which essentially acted as free publicity for the arena.
“What are you afraid of? It's likely some noble lord sending his personal servant up for some amusement. It's obviously an easy win. Making less is still making something.” Some gamblers wagered their entire life savings after voicing their thoughts.
Earning a little was still better than earning nothing, after all.
“Exactly, exactly.”
Some self-proclaimed rational gamblers threw their money behind Raging Bear, hoping to make a small profit from the odds.
These people seemed rational, but in reality, their fates were still not in their own hands.
Barring any surprises, they would eventually end up just like the former group.
The rowdiness outside the arena had no effect on the nobles inside.
Unlike the gamblers outside the arena, the nobles inside were far more restrained than they imagined.
At the very least, these nobles would never actually wager most of their wealth. To them, the arena was merely an exciting venue for leisure and entertainment.
Watching the people on the field slaughter each other was the true entertainment the nobles sought.
As for wealth and money...
As long as the foundation of their family's peerage remained, it didn't matter if they lost everything else. With a little time, it would naturally return.
Consequently, the nobles were not particularly enthusiastic about placing bets.
Most of their passion was reserved for their favorite ‘crickets,’ and any occasional bets they placed were merely tips for their preferred fighters.
This also meant that the vast majority of the arena's challengers were actually house servants and slaves sent up by these nobles.
That was why Apprentice-level duels were so incredibly common.
Of course, this didn't apply to every single noble, nor did it mean they didn't enjoy watching higher-tier, more thrilling matches.
“The next challenger to enter the arena is... the Apprentice-level Martial Artist—Ogre!”
Rate on N.U.
