Chapter 165: Tournament (Part 2)
In the third match of the tournament, it was once again Suda's turn to send someone first.
With one water dancer already dead and another unconscious from poisoning, Suda, to ensure victory, disregarded Ander Poole's objections and sent him directly onto the fighting platform.
Ander Poole wore a full set of silver-white plate armor, a closed helm with a gorget connecting to the pauldrons, chainmail at each joint for added protection, and a knee-length fauld around his waist, effectively protecting his groin.
His weapons were a mace and a bastard sword—it seemed he planned to decide which to use after confirming his opponent.
Hazan's original intention was to continue with Yada for the third match, since Yada didn't seem to have expended much energy in the second match, and his Valyrian steel blade was also effective against Ander Poole's full armor.
However, Ian refused and asked Yada to rest temporarily.
Although theoretically, Yada, the water dancer master wielding the Valyrian steel sword, was not afraid of Ander Poole, since Ander Poole was confident enough to participate in this life-or-death match, Ian didn't intend to send his men to clash with him head-on from the start.
The losses could be borne by Hazan's men.
Seeing Ian's insistence, Hazan said no more—this was his match after all, and it was indeed unreasonable to have an outsider fight three matches in a row.
So, for this match, Hazan sent Barry, the sellsword captain from the Summer Isles, a short dark-skinned man wielding a hand axe. It was said that people as short as him were rare in his tribe, and anyone who had mocked his height had invariably been sent to meet the Stranger.
Both sides exchanged courtesies as usual, but Ian did not remain in the stands to watch. Instead, he temporarily excused himself from Hazan and left Prince's Square, heading toward the gardens behind the main hall.
There, his cat had given him word.
Passing through a white marble archway entwined with strawberry vines, Ian arrived beside a lavender field.
Celia and Rol were already waiting there, while their two NPC knights were pinning someone to the stone pavers of the flower bed.
"Ian Darryl?" Belz Poole, his face covered in blood, looked up at Ian who had approached him. "You really are a player. Where's Darren? Didn't he come with you?"
Upon seeing Ian, Belz finally realized he had been captured by a player.
But what he couldn't understand was that the Captain of House Tetrus's guard had just summoned him, saying the captain had some orders, yet the man had turned around and handed him over to this Red Priestess who often appeared around Hazan.
What was going on?
"You're surprised? What? You think you won't be punished for your mission to the Sealord's Palace in Braavos, persuading the Sealord to turn two water dancers against us and almost causing the death of Prince Hazan?" Ian smiled as he took the small vial Celia handed him.
"Hazan? The one who brought me here was the Captain of House Tetrus's guard. Could it be that you even bought him?" Belz looked at the small vial in Ian's hand, a premonition rising in his mind. He began to try to break free from the two knights' grip.
"Bought? No, the Captain of House Tetrus has been our friend from the very beginning," Ian said, slapping Belz on the head with his gauntlet, instantly silencing him. "Celia only mentioned Prince Hazan's displeasure with you to him, and he immediately agreed to hand you over."
"How is that possible? Hey! Wait, no, no!" Belz kicked his legs, trying to back away from the increasingly close vial in Ian's hand. "Where's Darren?" he shouted. "I want to see Darren! Why isn't Darren here? Are you trying to keep all the spoils of killing me for yourself?"
Before Ian could react, Celia laughed first. This fool still believed Darren was the leader of this player alliance.
"What? You think you can still struggle? Fine, I'll give you three minutes to prove your worth." Ian paused what he was doing. "Speak. Give me a reason to spare your life."
This had almost become Ian's old routine—he couldn't even remember how many players he'd said this to.
Unfortunately, everyone who had heard this phrase hadn't survived. The only survivor—Ian couldn't help but glance at Celia beside him—she hadn't heard this phrase before.
Proving one's worth after being caught was, in itself, too late.
"Spare me, and I'll serve you. I'll give you all the resources I acquire afterward, including points, everything. When victory is declared, you just need to choose to disagree, and the alliance will automatically dissolve, allowing you to keep all the prize money," Belz hurriedly said. "Afterward, you don't have to share any of the money with me—I don't want a single copper."
"However, after we form an alliance, I can't force you to provide me with any resources. That would be considered betrayal, and if you really give me all the resources, wouldn't the alliance mechanism have no binding force on you?" Ian shook his head. "That's not enough."
Not enough? I'll work for you for free and it's not enough? What would be enough? Belz couldn't think of a better argument for a moment.
"Then let's change the subject. Tell me about Ander Poole's specific capabilities."
"This... are you sure you want to know? The moment I tell you, he'll know he's been betrayed by his ally."
"In Prince's Square, no champion can flee in the face of battle. Whether he knows or not doesn't matter... but you're right," Ian pried open Belz's mouth and forced the poison down his throat, "if the system determines you've betrayed me, I won't get the points you lost."
A few seconds later, Belz convulsed and collapsed to the ground, the last glint in his eyes questioning, You promised me three minutes?
And the system's notification sounded in Ian's mind.
To be honest, Ian was somewhat tempted by Belz's offer to work for free, but unfortunately, his current skinchanging ability was only at the intermediate level, and he could only control two bodies at most—his own body and the cat monitoring Celia. He couldn't spare any more bodies to monitor Belz.
Ian wouldn't accept any allies unless he could keep them under constant surveillance. This had nothing to do with trust—he wanted to eliminate any potential risks.
"Speaking of which," Celia said, standing behind Ian, "his suggestion just now seemed quite good. Once our combined points reach ten thousand, I can give you all the points, then let the alliance automatically dissolve, you win alone, and we'll split the winnings after we return to our original world." Celia paused, forcing a smile. "You didn't intend to take it all for yourself, did you?"
"If I'm the final victor, then of course I can accept it, as long as you're willing to trust me," Ian raised an eyebrow. "As for splitting the winnings, I can assure you I'll give you half—if we don't have any new allies afterward. But will you believe my promise? Since arriving in this world, I've lived a lie every day. I don't even know which of my words are true anymore."
"I don't believe you," Celia laughed, shaking her head honestly, "just as you'll never believe me. But I can tell you the truth, the absolute truth: I won't seek death, never."
Unless you're absolutely certain you can kill me, you'll never betray me, Ian mentally translated her words, then smiled. "Then I'll never give you the chance to die."
"Alright, dispose of the body," Ian turned and started walking back to Prince's Square, waving to Celia. "Then get back to work. Today is going to be an incredibly long day."
(End of Chapter)
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