I Am the God of Games

Naturally, the pearl was sold to Maester Rad.

According to the old man, the pearl was a rare gem for most people but an unequaled treasure to most astrologists for building spirit orbs that aids in observing stellar phenomena.

“I yield,” Gerald said dejectedly after the old man left.

Even so, he was dejected that he had misjudged the wares and only that.

After all, he wasn’t going to lose to some traveling merchant’s lackey.

***

Gerald would never claim that he was the strongest person in Lancaster—as a matter of fact, he’d never make top three.

Even so, his skill which he started honing since his childhood was not to be doubted.

When he graduated three years ago, his master had told him that he was on par with most bishops.

And as a warrior adept in close-quarters combat and speed, he could even instakill bishops of the Seven Fathers’ church as long as they don’t pull away!

So, no matter how one thought about it, there’s no way the lackey of a mere traveling merchant could be stronger than a bishop, right?

But even as such things crossed Gerald’s mind, he didn’t know that Marni already had everything straightened out for him.

‘Level 35-better than the High Priest of Rotten Bones, but the template is normal. He doesn’t even count as an elite monster…’ Marni glanced at the number over the knight’s head in disdain.

He may have died a great many times, the power of money kept him tied tightly to the tail end of the top Players as he ascended past the gates of Level 40.

In theory, he could give that ignorant young knight a thorough beatdown even if he had to do it himself. However, after becoming a Player for so long and even though he didn’t believe in luck, Marni was actually scared by the misfortunes that plagued him and could reduce the wonderful to the rotten.

If something unexpected occurred and he was beaten up by Gerald instead, wouldn’t he be the joke amongst all Players?

With that thought in mind, Marni decided to have his ‘lackey’ fight instead of entering the ring himself when he made the bet.

“Where is your underling? Have him come to this residence—there’s no need to go someplace else. Relax, we could make this quick at the courtyard by the gates…”

Meanwhile, Gerald was still hooting away, whereas Marni had confirmed that his backup had arrived through the Player forums.

“He’ll reach here soon. Please wait for a moment.”

And unsurprisingly, there was an uproar outside the gates right after Marni’s reply.

Then, a weird figure appeared.

The man held a long, narrow single-edged sword. His limbs look no different from any normal human’s… but that was the extent of his normalcy.

His head, on the other hand, looked misshapen with its pink flatfish head mask. It was as indescribable weirdness, as if he had his whole head swallowed by a flatfish…

Still, the name [Mufasa) was hovering over the flatfish’s tail in every other players’ vision.

“…I won’t demand anything when it comes to your usual fashion tastes, but could you dress normally in a serious situation?” Marni whispered to the flatfish. “At least take off that funny fish head!”

“But I refuse! This is the Flawless Flatfish Head Mask which I drew from the Gold Global Pool from the previous even, a one and only item! It has Taunt-effect too, and no other Player could get it no matter how much they want it!” Mufasa refused with no hesitation, and the pride in his tone was palpable. “Moreover, it’s just some Level 35 small fry and not some major quest. I won’t even break a sweat.”

Marni thought about it and realized that it was reasonable.

The craziness of the Players would eventually be exposed to the key characters of Lancaster anyway. He could just overlook this one…

***

Since both sides were convinced that it was going to be a one-sided fight, neither opted to warm-up seriously and simply went ahead to the courtyard for their duel.

That being said, Gerald found Mufasa’s head mask exceedingly silly and disrespectful towards his muscle, and had every intention to show him what’s what in the duel.

As a knight of the city watch and provided elite education as a child, Gerald knew very well about the importance of staying calm in battle.

Even if he had not reached the state of perfect emptiness, he wouldn’t be easily provoked by any opponent.

But for some reason, he would be fuming inwardly whenever he looked into the dead-fish eyes of the flatfish head mask Mufasa was wearing. It burned his heart, surging as an impulse to break Mufasa’s face.

Driven by that impulse, he attacked just after testing and observing Mufasa for a brief moment.

Still, it was meaningless.

All his blows would be parried with relative ease no matter how he attacked.

He even had the space to say things like ‘so noob, not even ‘Danger’ is showing up’.

Although Gerald didn’t understand what that meant, it was clearly a taunt.

The knight couldn’t help quickening the rhythm of his attack. Sparks flew as their weapons collided in loud clanging sounds, as if a blacksmith was hammering away on steel.

Be that as it may, he couldn’t even reach his opponent’s sleeve no matter how many times he swung his sword.

Gerald never had a battle like this-everything he did was useless and a waste of strength.

“Is parrying all you could do?!” He yelled in irritation. “Coward!”

That was when his sword was knocked out of his hands and himself sent flying by a kick, rolling twice on the ground before crashing into a wall, his eyes closed even as he gasped for air.

“Yield?” The flatfish asked.

“Over my dead body!”

Gerald, who had become calmer because of the pain earlier felt his blood rushed up to his head once again-he rushed back into the duel as soon as he picked up the sword beside him.

But he was beaten even quicker this time.

His sword was flicked away handily, and his opponent’s blade was sticking just over his neck like a viper in the next split second.

“To be fair, your swordcraft is not bad.” The flatfish’s tone did not change at all—there wasn’t even panting, as if the duel had been an unnoticeable warm up. “However, it must only have been honed by constant training day after day, along with sparring with seniors and masters, yes? Even so, a blade that was never refined by approaching death, pain, blood, resolve and perseverance would never reach me.”

“Peasant… How many times did you die, then?!” Gerald exclaimed in distress.

“How many times I died? I forgot.” Flatfish sheathed his sword and calmly replied. “Who would remember how many slices of bread they’ve eaten?”