My Denars!

"Invincibility was so... so lonely..."

Seeing that everything was going smoothly, Li Ang hummed a tune as he headed downstairs. The semifinals were about to begin.

The semifinals would be fought on foot, with two-handed swords.

On the one hand, it would make the match more entertaining. On the other—Fat Boss had probably considered Foucher's atrocious horsemanship and strength. He was obviously unfit for a lance duel.

Just as Li Ang had said, what if Foucher fell off his horse himself?

Yet unexpectedly, this semifinal, which everyone had thought would be free of surprises, ran into an unexpected complication.

Foucher had initially performed quite bravely, charging in with his two-handed sword and wildly hacking away. Li Ang had cooperatively blocked left and right, putting on the appearance of being steadily driven back.

Unfortunately, a pit dug by the horse Li Ang had knocked down with a lance in the previous match before it fell caused Foucher to step into empty air and twist himself to the ground...

Even more unfortunately, Foucher had been making a full-force slashing motion when he missed his footing—the result was that not only Li Ang, but even nearby spectators heard a crisp crack.

Then Foucher threw down his sword, clutched his foot, and wailed in agony...

At that point, it no longer mattered how convincingly Li Ang fought or lost, because this match allowed only two-handed swords.

And in any battle or contest, throwing away all one's weapons had only one meaning—surrender.

The entire audience, including the duke and Fat Boss in the private box, as well as Li Ang himself, stood frozen and stared dumbfoundedly at the bizarre scene.

Only after the attendants entered the arena and carried away the Foucher, who could not stand, did Fat Boss announce Li Ang's advancement with a worried expression.

"My denars..."

Li Ang felt none of a victor's joy. A mournful cry that would make even demons shudder escaped his throat. It felt as though countless little coins had grown wings and flown away from him, taking Alice with them into the distance.

"Sigh, you can't be blamed for this... Who could have known something like this would happen..." Fat Boss was equally dejected. As the organizer, he would clearly lose countless little coins as well, and would also have to endure Duke Alma's wrath.

Fortunately, Duke Alma was a duke of the Lionheart Kingdom and could not simply decide the life or death of a Fieltzwe merchant like him.

"What if I win the championship, then return the Pioneer Baron certificate to Duke Alma?" Li Ang considered how to avoid angering a powerful grand duke.

Fat Boss shook his head. "That is a reward issued by the Noble Council on the king's behalf. How could it simply be given to someone else? Besides, Foucher's leg is twisted and broken. There is no point in a cripple receiving a Pioneer Baron certificate, and Duke Alma has already left."

Li Ang shook his head and looked at Fat Boss. "Forget it. Bet on me to win the championship... Bet as much as you can!"

Fat Boss stared at Li Ang. "Your opponent in the finals is Sir Rayman of the Lionheart Kingdom, the Furious Lion Knight renowned across the continent! Now that there is no longer any agreement with young master Foucher, Sir Rayman will certainly go all out... And besides..."

"And besides what?"

Fat Boss let out a heavy sigh. "Duke Alma has demanded that the finals be changed to a fully armored duel, using your own equipment against one another. Your skills are beyond question, but the Furious Lion Knight's equipment is far superior to yours... This will not be a contest. It will be battle. You might be killed."

Li Ang gritted his teeth. Thinking of all the little coins he had lost, if he failed to win this match, then the bets he had placed before—all his savings—would vanish into nothing.

Besides, judging by these nobles' habits, as long as their goal was not achieved, he was already considered a sinner.

Given that bastard young master's vile temperament, Li Ang had most likely already become the target of his resentment.

Duke Alma himself would probably not make a personal appearance, but those lapdogs hoping to curry favor with the duke would certainly find every possible way to kill him!

And Duke Alma's demand for a fully armored duel had been intended to take his life from the start...

So now, he could only seize the championship!

He had to obtain the Pioneer Baron certificate, then flee to Lion City and complete the registration before danger arrived, gaining the status of a Pioneer Lord.

The status of a Reserve Baron could ward off dangers in the open. Nobles would not openly put someone to death; they would only resort to dirty tricks in secret.

As for the hidden threats... he would deal with them when the time came. There might not necessarily be a road ahead when the cart reached the mountain, but first, he had to get through what was right in front of him.

"You really want to bet on yourself to win?" Fat Boss felt that he needed to reevaluate this young man once more.

Li Ang nodded. "I can still put up 500 denars. My odds should be pretty high this time, right?"

Fat Boss nodded. "Five to one. Hardly anyone favors you... Li Ang, win or lose, you need to leave this place. Be careful on the road."

Li Ang gave Fat Boss a long look, then stepped forward and hugged his round belly. "Thank you for taking care of me these past six months, Andrew. In return, I should help you solve a few problems... If I win, you can keep all the winnings. Just give me the group of Meitengheim prisoners in your hands and Alice. Consider it my purchase of them."

"...Those people are genuine Meitengheim swordsmen! They are worth far more than that money!"

Fat Boss was clearly somewhat unwilling.

"But you can't make those Meitengheim people obey you anyway, can you? Rather than letting them sit idle and waste food, you might as well sell them to me."

That group of swordsmen from Meitengheim was extremely formidable. More than a dozen countrymen had gathered together and stuck together, leaving Boss Andrew with little he could do—those people had been attacked by pirates at sea and captured only after falling overboard. They were not afraid of death, and after being sold to the arena, they refused to do anything.

As a result, Boss Andrew could only watch helplessly as those burly men lay around all day doing nothing. If he withheld food and drink, they would cause trouble—the arena had been unable to deal with them for the time being, and had already lost quite a few men because of them.

"Fine... I hope you can win."

Andrew thought it over, struggled for a while, and ultimately agreed.

The horn for the finals sounded, and Li Ang once again put on his chainmail face-covering helmet.

He wore a fairly decent set of light chainmail, acquired a month ago in exchange for a worthwhile defeat.

In his left hand was an old knightly longsword—an heirloom from the original owner's father, its hilt's crest worn completely smooth.

But he carried no shield. In his right hand was an ordinary-looking extended lance.

His mount was a common black travel horse.

His opponent, Sir Rayman, was clad from head to toe in gleaming silver plate armor. The Lion Knight Order's complete equipment was far beyond that of an ordinary warrior. A long red plume adorned his helmet, marking him as a knight who had never known defeat.

The Furious Lion Steel Shield and heavy lance in his hands were immensely intimidating. A silver-plated greatsword was strapped to his back, and its very appearance radiated murderous intent.

Even his horse wore heavy armor that covered its entire body. The snarling furious lion crest on its barding and caparison inspired fear.

The equipment gap was simply too great. No matter how one looked at it, this was a completely one-sided contest.

But Li Ang did not believe he had no chance of winning.

Because—before a lance, all beings were equal!