“Loki, what’s that supposed to mean?!” Hestia snapped, glaring as Loki sprawled in her seat, brazenly betting against Roy.

“What, I can’t bet here?” Loki said, crossing her legs with a smug grin. She glanced at Hestia. “Or does your Familia mandate betting on your child to win?”

“I didn’t say that,” Hestia huffed, folding her arms.

“Then quit yapping!” Loki slapped her thigh, nudging Tiona Hiryute. “Hurry, place the bet before the match locks. Missing this easy money would be dumb!”

“You jerk…” Hestia growled, her fists clenching as if itching to swing.

“Lady Loki,” Roy said, his smile cool and unruffled, “betting on my opponent’s a losing move. Sure you don’t want to switch?”

“Ugh, that calm act’s infuriating!” Loki fumed, her temper flaring at Roy’s composed demeanor. “I’m betting against you, child, and not even Zeus could change my mind!”

“Just a heads-up,” Roy said, shaking his head. “Don’t blame Hestia when you’re out of cash.”

“Who’d do something so tacky?” Loki shot back, indignant.

“Good. I’d hate for you to flip and bet on me after I win,” Roy said, his faint smile unwavering.

“Oh?” Loki’s eyes narrowed, sizing him up. “Trying reverse psychology, huh? Don’t worry, I wouldn’t bet on you even if I’m down to my underwear!”

Loki’s disdain masked her unease. As a god, she could sense Roy’s confidence was genuine, not bravado, which irked her. She wanted to knock him down a peg, to show him the adventurer’s world wasn’t a cakewalk.

“Confidence is fine,” Roy said evenly, “but since you’re so sure, Lady Loki, I hope you won’t regret it.”

“I said I’m not that tacky!” Loki snorted.

“Let’s hope,” Roy replied, his smile sharpening. “You wouldn’t bet just a measly few thousand Valis, right? Not the great Loki Familia’s god.”

“Provoking me again?” Loki laughed, amused by Roy’s blatant goading. It was a clear taunt, daring her to bleed money betting against him.

“I’m the Loki Familia’s main god, not some pauper like Hestia,” Loki said, taking the bait. She refused to let Hestia gloat. “Hestia, bet 200,000 on me winning,” Roy said, handing her his coin pouch, holding just over 200,000 Valis after recent expenses.

“Match me if you’ve got the guts!” Roy challenged, his tone shifting to open provocation.

“You’re pushing it, child!” Loki barked, a vein pulsing on her forehead. She ordered Tiona to bet 400,000 Valis on Roy’s opponent, doubling his stake to flex her Familia’s wealth.

Riveria Ljos Alf, watching, barely resisted covering her face. Our god’s bickering with a teenage rookie. How childish, she thought, regretting her guard duty. A dungeon run would’ve been less embarrassing.

Soon, Roy’s match was called. The arena, a 100-meter-square rock platform, bore scars from past battles, neglected as a low-level stage. The host, wielding a megaphone-like device, hyped the crowd with Roy’s matchup.

Roy’s opponent, a dwarf from the Seth Familia, stood at the ring’s far end, gripping a massive axe. His bulging muscles screamed power, dwarfing Roy’s lean frame. To spectators, Roy looked like he’d be cleaved in half.

“Hah! Your child’s up against a dwarf!” Loki crowed, gleeful. Dwarves’ brute strength gave them an edge in arena brawls.

“Hey, anyone know this guy?” Loki asked nearby waiting adventurers, fishing for confirmation.

“I do,” one replied. “He’s from Seth Familia, been LV1 for two or three years. Should be close to LV2.”

Loki’s grin widened. “Hear that, Hestia? Your child’s luck is trash, facing a grizzled LV1 right off the bat.”

With years of training, the dwarf’s strength likely topped LV1 limits, a brutal matchup for a fresh Falna recipient like Roy. “Pity, your 200,000 Valis is toast!” Loki taunted.

“My 400,000’s doubling to 800,000—time for some fine wine!”

“It hasn’t started yet! Stop gloating—Roy’ll win!” Hestia countered, her worry masked by defiance, eyes locked on Roy in the ring.

—

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