For Baston, the victory alone was never the goal. What he needed was the agitation from his opponent.
The arena inside Paradise Resort had already lost its excitement. At first, the crowd had been enthusiastic, roaring at every exchange between the fighters. But as the minutes passed, the outcome had gradually become predictable.
Viktor's servant, despite his experience, was clearly running out of stamina. His movements had slowed down, his breathing had grown heavy, and every swing of his sword carried less strength than before.
People were no longer watching with anticipation since they were merely waiting for the inevitable.
Baston could sense the change in the atmosphere through the puppet's senses. The spectators had already accepted the result in their minds.
That would not do good for the quest. If everything ended too simply, his plan would lose half of its effect.
He needed something more. Something unexpected and something that would shake everyone's attention.
A faint smile formed on his lips before he moved.
A pale blue glow suddenly flickered around the puppet's hand as he quietly activated the ice magic. The energy traveled along the ground like a silent snake before reaching Viktor's servant.
The man noticed it a moment too late.
"Crack!"
Thin layers of ice instantly climbed around the legs, freezing them firmly to the arena floor.
"What—?!"
The servant's eyes widened in shock as he tried to move but the ice had already hardened, locking his feet in place.
The spectators erupted in noise once more.
Baston didn't give the man a time to recover. The puppet rushed forward with surprising speed. Its sword was clashing violently against the opponent's weapon.
"CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!"
The steel rang through the arena repeatedly.
Viktor's servant could only defend. With his trapped legs, retreating was impossible. Every strike forced him to remain where he stood, struggling to block the incoming attacks.
The sweat poured down his face.
Several times, he tried to swing downward to break the ice around his legs but each attempt was a failure.
Every time he moved his sword away from the defense, Baston's sword came crashing toward him. This move was forcing him to guard again.
The crowd soon realized what was happening.
The fat boy was toying with him and the servant's face was twisted with humiliation.
"You can't fight anymore, right?" Baston sneered.
The puppet's voice sounded relaxed and it was almost mocking, "I won't let you surrender easily."
"Damn you, brat!" the man growled, "Once I get out of here, I swear I'll torture you until you beg for your death!"
Baston laughed, "Bullshit! You can't even move."
Before the servant could react, the fat boy stepped closer and slapped him across the cheek.
"SMACK!"
The sound echoed loudly across the arena, making the spectators gasped. For a brief moment, the silence fell until the opponent woke up with hatred.
By then, the servant's eyes burned with fury, "YOU LITTLE—!"
"If you're a man…" Baston interrupted casually, "Why don't you fight me without a sword?"
The servant froze, "What?"
"Let's settle this with fists," he continued while shrugging, "There will be no magic and no weapons."
The crowd stirred with the excitement. It was really such a bad idea that they wondered if something was wrong with his head.
"What is that boy doing?"
"Is he insane?"
Viktor's servant stared at him with disbelief, "You think I'm afraid?"
"Then, throw your sword away."
Without hesitation, Baston flung his sword across the arena.
The weapon slid across the floor until it stopped far from both fighters. Such action from the boy made the servant blinked.
For a moment, he wondered if this was some sort of trap. But when he looked again, the fat boy was standing calmly with empty hands.
Slowly, a cruel smile spread across his face.
A child was still a child. No matter how talented he was, he lacked the experience.
With a laugh, the servant threw his own sword aside. The moment it left his hand, the ice around his legs began melting rapidly since Baston allowed it.
The cracks spread across the frozen surface before the ice completely disappeared. The servant stepped forward and the freedom returned to his body. Surely, he didn't hesitate.
"BAM!"
His fist slammed violently into Baston's stomach. The sound echoed through the arena, making the spectators gasped once again.
"Damn, that must be painful!"
"That boy is stupid!"
"He just threw away his victory!"
Those who had bet on him cursed loudly while the opposing gamblers cheered with delight. The entire situation had reversed in an instant.
"Ha… ha… ha…" the servant laughed breathlessly, "How does it feel, little boy?"
His grin widened cruelly, "Don't blame me for your defeat. Blame yourself for being stupid."
Baston slowly raised his head, "I want to say something."
The servant smirked, "What?"
He lifted his leg, "Your punch is weak…"
Before the man could react, he made his counterattack.
"WHAM!"
The fat boy's kick slammed upward into his stomach.
The force was shocking, making the servant stumbled backward several steps while clutching his abdomen as the pain exploded through his body.
The spectators fell silent. That kick, it was far stronger than anyone expected. Even the gamblers who had been cursing him the moments ago stared in disbelief.
Viktor's servant gritted his teeth.
The humiliation earlier from the slap and the taunts, it all burned inside his chest. The reason slowly faded and the rage took its place.
"YOU'RE DEAD!"
He lunged forward, throwing a powerful punch toward Baston's face.
The fat boy barely tilted his head to avoid it before another punch followed and another attack kept going.
Soon, the fight turned chaotic with both fighters abandoned the technique. The punches, the kicks, and the elbows which was anything that could harm the opponent was used without restraint.
At one point, the servant attempted to gouge Baston's eye. In response, the fat boy delivered a brutal kick toward the man's crotch.
Several men in the audience instinctively crossed their legs.
"That's cruel!"
But still, no one looked away. The brutality only fueled the excitement. The arena echoed with cheers, curses, and wild laughter.
To the crowd, it looked like two barbarians that were tearing at each other with raw strength. But hidden beneath the chaos, Baston's mind remained calm.
Every movement was calculated and every blow was carefully controlled. He needed the fight to look more desperate, real, and messy.
Even as the punches landed on the puppet's body, he allowed it to stagger and breathe heavily. The illusion of exhaustion had to be convincing. After all, someone important was watching.
Several minutes passed and both fighters looked terrible.
The servant's face was swollen and his blood was dripping from his nose. Many bruises covered his arms and ribs. Baston's puppet appeared no better with dirty face, disheveled, and breathing roughly.
Then suddenly, the fat boy collapsed onto the arena floor.
"THUD!"
The spectators soon erupted, thinking the duel had finished.
"HA! HE'S DOWN!"
"IT'S OVER!"
Viktor's servant staggered backward, barely able to stand. His body was covered in wounds but the triumph shone in his eyes.
"Ha… ha… ha…" he raised his arms weakly, "I WON!"
The referee quickly rushed forward, kneeling beside Baston's body to check if he had lost his consciousness.
"I WON!" the servant shouted again.
The crowd roared in response.
Some gamblers celebrated wildly while the others cursed their bad luck. From the audience seats, Luke clenched his fists tightly.
His heart pounded violently in his chest. He wanted to jump into the arena and he wanted to smash Viktor's servant to pieces.
However, he forced himself to remain still because he trusted Baston. That strange and unpredictable fat boy had never acted without reason.
The referee leaned closer to him, then suddenly, the fat boy moved. Slowly and painfully, he pushed himself upright. His little action made gasps spread through the arena.
"He's standing again!"
"Impossible!"
Viktor's servant stared with disbelief, "YOU!"
Baston swayed slightly but he remained on his feet. His breathing was heavy yet his eyes burned with determination.
"Why are you still standing?!" the servant roared, "You should be dead already!"
Baston clenched his fists, "I won't lose!"
His voice echoed through the arena, "I promised my lord I would win!"
The spectators leaned forward, "This is truly the power of nobility!"
The declaration sounded ridiculous but before anyone could scoff, he charged forward. The servant tried to raise his arms to defend. His mind reacted but his exhausted body did not.
"THUMP!"
The fat boy's uppercut struck his chin with terrifying force.
For a split second, the servant saw the world that was spinning around before everything went dark.
His body collapsed heavily onto the floor.
The silence filled the arena and the referee quickly rushed to check the fallen fighter. Several seconds passed before he stood and raised his hand.
"The winner is Baston!"
The arena exploded with the cheers.
"YEAH!"
"INCREDIBLE!"
"That was the best fight today!"
Luke finally exhaled in relief after knowing that Baston had won. But while the arena was drowned in the celebration, the real game was unfolding elsewhere.
*****
Inside Carpel Inn, a well-dressed guest sat calmly among a group of the nobles.
None of them realized the man they were speaking with was merely another puppet that was controlled by Baston.
The puppet listened more than it spoke which was a deliberate choice. The conversation flowed easily between the nobles that were lounging in the lobby.
At this moment, he had noticed something unusual while another puppet was battling Viktor's servant at the coliseum.
When the puppet first stepped inside Carpel Inn earlier, the atmosphere had felt subtly wrong.
At first glance, everything appeared ordinary. The inn was lively, filled with wealthy travelers and the nobles who came to Luminos City on seeking the pleasure.
The servants moved politely between the tables, the musicians played soft melodies near the corner of the lobby, and the scent of expensive wine lingered faintly in the air.
Yet, he sensed something hidden beneath that peaceful scene. Several individuals inside the lobby were not behaving like ordinary guests.
They sat quietly at different corners of the room. One appeared to be reading a book while another calmly sipped tea near the window. There was also another man who leaned lazily against a pillar, pretending to watch the street outside.
However, Baston immediately noticed the subtle connections between them. Their eyes moved too often. It was not toward each other but toward him.
It was not obvious enough for ordinary people to notice. Each glance lasted only a brief moment before they looked away again. To anyone else, it would seem like nothing more than a coincidence.
However, he had spent enough time of gathering the intelligence through his own way to recognize the pattern.
Those people were watching him or more precisely, they were observing the man that his puppet was pretending to be.
Their disguises were excellent. They dressed like the common guests and carried themselves casually but their posture betrayed the discipline. Even the way they scanned the surroundings revealed their trained awareness.
They were not ordinary people since they were trained expert. He did not react toward this newfound.
Instead, he allowed the puppet to behave naturally, chatting lightly with several guests while quietly observing those watchers through the puppet's peripheral vision.
For nearly half an hour, the silent observation continued, then suddenly, they were gone.
One after another, the suspicious figures disappeared from the lobby.
The man near the pillar stood up and casually walked toward the staircase. The reader closed her book and left shortly afterward. Even the one sitting by the window finished the drink before calmly heading upstairs.
To ordinary guests, their departure meant nothing but he understood immediately. Someone upstairs had called them back which meant only one thing.
The person who had placed those watchers inside the lobby had finally decided to reveal himself.
"So, you're here for an important meeting?" one man asked, making Baston's sense to come back from the surrounding.
"Yes…" the puppet replied politely.
"It must be expensive to hold a meeting in Luminos City," another guest commented, "Only the nobles could afford such extravagance."
"Perhaps, he is indeed a noble," someone else joked.
"However, he doesn't want to reveal his identity."
"Maybe, it involves a secret lover!"
The group burst into laughter and he smiled faintly. People truly loved gossip more than the truth. All he needed to do was to provide a small spark and the rest would burn by itself.
As the conversation continued, more guests gradually joined the group.
Most of them were the nobles with only a few merchants that lingered at the edge, unwilling to interrupt. Even in a place like this, the social hierarchy quietly separated people.
The puppet blended perfectly among the nobles. No one questioned his presence then suddenly, a furious shout echoed from the upper floor.
"DAMN IT! USELESS TRASH!"
The entire lobby froze, wondering what had happened to that certain guest.
"HE CAN'T EVEN BEAT A LITTLE BOY!"
The whispers soon immediately spread and another rumor was unfolding between them.
"That voice…"
"Who is the one shouting?"
Several guests looked upstairs in confusion but Baston's puppet simply smiled. It was subtle and barely noticeable but the plan had succeeded.
Viktor had taken the bait.
A guest noticed the smile from the puppet, "It seems like there's a good news…"
The man shrugged casually, "My woman finally came to visit. I just receive the message from her…"
The nobles laughed again, clearly understood the meaning.
"I knew it!"
"No man comes to this city only for the business!"
"Go on then, don't keep your lady in waiting!"
The group waved him away playfully and the puppet bowed politely before leaving.
The moment he turned his back, the smile vanished and his eyes grew cold.
The true stage was upstairs and Viktor was already waiting.