The winnings were heavy.
5,100 Gold Coins.
In the real world, the "Sanctuary Credit" exchange rate for gold was already fluctuating wildly on the black market forums. 5,000 gold? Roughly equivalent to half a million dollars. Sebastian had made it in ten minutes.
He stood at the counter. Waiting for the Orc to hand over the bag. The Orc's hands were shaking. The house had taken a massive hit on that payout.
"The House... The House needs to verify—" the Orc stammered.
"The House will pay," a smooth, velvety voice cut through the air.
Sebastian didn't turn. He recognized the voice from his past life.
Two guards stepped out from the shadows behind the registration cage. Not the usual Orc grunts. These were Level 25 [Ironhold Sentinels]. Wearing full plate armor enchanted with anti-magic runes.
Between them stood a woman who looked like she belonged in a royal palace. Not a subterranean fighting pit.
Madame Thorne.
She wore a dress of deep crimson silk that hugged her curves dangerously. Slit high up the thigh to reveal a leg adorned with a hidden dagger holster. Her hair was black. Pinned up with needles made of dragon bone. She held a long, thin smoking pipe. Her eyes—sharp, intelligent, predatory—were fixed on Sebastian.
[NPC: Madame Thorne]
[Level: ??]
[Role: Master of the Ironhold Arena / Shadow Broker]
"Follow me, Mr. Zero," she said. Blowing a ring of purple smoke. "Your winnings are waiting in the VIP suite. Unless you prefer discussing business in front of the help?"
She glanced dismissively at the trembling Orc.
Sebastian adjusted his ragged tunic. "Lead the way."
He wasn't afraid. In his past life, Thorne was a key figure in the mid-game. She controlled the underground economy of Ironhold. If the apocalypse hadn't wiped out half the servers, she would have eventually become a continent-level threat.
They ascended a private elevator. Made of brass and glass. Rising above the grime of the pits to the luxurious boxes that overlooked the arena.
The suite was opulent. Velvet sofas. Crystal decanters filled with glowing wine. A panoramic window offering a view of the bloodstained sand below.
Thorne sat on a sofa. Crossing her legs. She gestured for Sebastian to sit. He remained standing.
"You're an anomaly," Thorne said. Her voice dropping the seductive veneer for a tone of cold analysis. "A Drifter with access to Space-Time magic and High-Tier Lightning manipulation. My mages tell me your mana signature is... weird. It feels like the Void."
Sebastian's expression didn't change. "Is that an appraisal or an interrogation?"
"It's curiosity," Thorne smiled. Revealing teeth that were slightly too sharp. "I like anomalies. They make me money. But they also bring trouble."
She snapped her fingers. A servant appeared from thin air. Placing a heavy chest on the table.
"5,100 Gold. As promised."
Sebastian opened the chest. The gold glowed warmly. He closed it. Sent it to his inventory.
[System: +5,100 Gold.]
"Now," Thorne leaned forward. "Let's talk about the future. You have talent, Zero. But in Ironhold, talent without protection is just a target. The guilds—Crimson Skull, Golden Lion—they watched your match. They will hunt you. They want your secrets. Want to know how a Drifter can one-shot their elites."
"Let them come," Sebastian said indifferently. "Saves me the trouble of finding them."
Thorne chuckled. A low, throaty sound. "Arrogant. I like that. But I have a better proposal. Sign a contract with the Arena. You fight exclusively for me. I provide you with gear, protection, political immunity within the city. You give me 50% of your earnings."
Standard slave contract disguised as an employment offer.
Sebastian walked over to the table. Poured himself a glass of wine. Took a sip. It tasted like pixels and cheap data. His brain registered it as vintage merlot.
"No," Sebastian said.
The air in the room froze. The two Sentinel guards rested their hands on their weapons.
Thorne's eyes narrowed. "No?"
"I don't work for people," Sebastian said. Setting the glass down. "I work with them. Here is my counter-offer. I fight when I want. Bet on myself. You take 30% of the ticket sales and the betting pool rake. I take 100% of my own winnings. And in exchange..."
He paused. Looking her dead in the eye.
"In exchange, I will clear your 'Special Matches'. The ones your champions are too scared to take."
Thorne went still. Her pipe froze halfway to her mouth.
"You know about the Special Matches?" she whispered.
"I know that monsters from the 'Deep Zones' have been appearing in your holding cells," Sebastian bluffed. Using his future knowledge. "Creatures that shouldn't exist in this update. Void-tainted beasts. Your guards are terrified. Your champions refuse to fight them because the corruption causes permanent stat loss."
Thorne's composure cracked. He was right. For the past week, the arena had been capturing beasts that radiated a strange, dark energy—the same energy bleeding into the real world.
"You can kill them?" she asked.
"I can erase them," Sebastian corrected.
Thorne stared at him for a long moment. Weighing the risk. Then a slow smile spread across her face.
"You drive a hard bargain, Drifter. Very well. We have a deal."
She stood up. Extended a hand. Sebastian shook it.
[System: Reputation with Ironhold Underground increased to 'Neutral'.]
[New Association: The Arena.]
"Since we are partners," Thorne said. Pulling a file from her desk. "I have a match for you. Tonight. The main event."
She tossed the file to him.
"The crowd is bored of one-second kills. They want a struggle. Want blood. I want you to fight the reigning champion of the amateur bracket. If you beat him, you'll be famous. If you lose... well, I save a lot of gold."
Sebastian opened the file.
[Opponent: Gorgon]
[Class: Berserker]
[Level: 15 (Elite)]
[Title: The Berserker King]
"He's never lost," Thorne warned. "He has a Unique Passive that keeps him alive at 1 HP. Fights harder the more you hurt him."
Sebastian closed the file.
"He sounds durable," Sebastian said. Turning to the door. "Make sure the betting pool is open. I'm going to double my money again."