Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

Chapter 772: Betting With The Most Valuable Currency In Blessed Land [Bonus Chapter]

Morwenna wiped a drop of purple juice off her chin with the back of her sleeve and smacked her lips.

”Ahh!”

She set the empty glass on the armrest, leaned forward over the railing and looked down at the sandy floor of the arena, where Tasmin and Brida were stretching on opposite sides and glaring at each other through the falling snow with enough murderous intent to curdle milk.

Tasmin was stretching her arms across her chest in slow deliberate pulls without taking her eyes off Brida once.

Brida was doing squats... loud aggressive squats, aimed directly at Tasmin, as if each one were a personal insult.

”Alright, Captain,” Morwenna said, glancing back over her shoulder with a wicked grin. ”Who’s gonna win this? The shadow cat or the rock head?”

The question landed on the platform like a spark in a barrel of blasting powder.

Thora practically jumped out of her boots and slammed her iron-toed heel against the deck.

THUD!

”Are you blind in both eyes, pirate, or did the salt rot your brain?!” Thora shouted. ”Brida’s bones are denser than skysteel! She’s got the Unyielding Bedrock Body! I’ve seen that woman take a charging forest rhino straight to the chest without moving a step... Tasmin’s quick, sure, but she’s fighting with her bare hands today! She’s gonna punch Brida in the ribs, break her own wrist and come crying to me for a splint!”

Across the platform, Lupina’s wolf ears shot straight up, and she bared her sharp white fangs in a playful grin.

”No way, dwarf!” Lupina barked, thumping her chest with her fist. ”Speed wins every single time! Tasmin’s got Phantom Blitz... By the time Brida even winds up a punch, Tasmin’ll be standing on the back of her neck! You can’t hit what isn’t there! My gut says Tasmin takes her down in under three minutes!”

”Three minutes?” Solenne laughed, her nine silver tails swishing lazily behind her chair. ”You’re underestimating her a bit I think... Um... Brida doesn’t need to be fast... She only needs to catch one limb, and it’s over according to what Thora told me.”

”Wrong,” Morrighan stated calmly from her post by the pillar. Her face didn’t change at all, but her tail gave two sharp decisive snaps against the wood. ”Tasmin will find the weak points and take her apart.”

”I believe we should pray for both of their safety,” Aurelia offered gently, her golden-amber eyes calm. ”Though if you’re asking me... Brida’s spirit is as stubborn as the earth itself so she won’t fall easily.”

Even Rowenna peeked out from behind Gunnhild’s cloak and murmured in a tiny voice. ”Brida’s... Brida’s very hard to move...” before disappearing again.

Gunnhild, who’d been sitting quietly the whole time, finally raised her hand like she was in a classroom, then lowered it again when she realized nobody was taking questions.

Silas sat in his chair, completely bewildered as the arguments flew back and forth over his head.

Eluned was still purring against his neck without a care in the world, and Morwenna had already pulled a stick of chalk and a blank wooden plank out of her coat, like she’d been carrying them around for exactly this moment.

”Hold on a second,” Silas laughed, raising a hand. ”Are you guys seriously placing bets right now? What are you even betting with? We don’t have a territory coin, and nobody here uses gold...”

Morwenna paused and looked at him like he’d just asked why the sea was wet then a broad grin split her face.

Every woman on the platform turned and looked at him the exact same way.

”Coin?” Morwenna scoffed, waving the chalk. ”Who cares about gold, Captain? We’re betting with the only currency in Blessed Land that actually matters.”

Silas raised an eyebrow, and a sudden prickle of suspicion crawled up the back of his neck.

”Which is...?”

”Time with you, obviously,” Morwenna said, already scratching tally marks into the wood. ”Winners get time with Lord Silas... Evenings, back rubs, sparring, first dibs on coming along when you go out killing monsters... More or less.”

Silas stared at her, his jaw dropping.

Somewhere beside him, Gunnhild was nodding slowly, as if this was the most reasonable thing she’d ever heard.

”Wait a damn minute,” Silas protested, half laughing. ”I’m the Lord of this territory, not a carnival prize... You can’t bet my schedule on a fistfight!”

”Of course we can, Hubby,” Eluned purred right into his ear, trailing her cool fingers along his jaw. ”You belong to Blessed Land, and you belong to us... Besides, I’m already putting three nights of garden walks on Brida.”

”Don’t you start too!” Silas laughed, nudging her chin with his knuckle.

...It was already far too late.

Morwenna leaned over the railing, cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed down into the stands with the full lungs of a captain shouting through a storm.

”OI! LISTEN UP, YOU LOT!”

A hundred and fifty heads snapped toward the platform, and the noise died at once as the pirate captain held the chalk-covered plank high over her head.

”We’re opening the books for the main event!” Morwenna shouted with wild glee. ”Tasmin versus Brida! Winners get time with Lord Silas! Get your bets in now... before they start!”

For one second, the stands were silent.

Morwenna, who had clearly been waiting her whole life for this moment, grinned like a shark then they went completely feral.

”AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

The wave of screaming that erupted from the benches nearly blew the snow off the railings.

Women scrambled over each other, shoved past their squad leaders and waved ribbons, carved tokens and scraps of parchment in the air like merchants at an auction.

A squad leader who tried to restore order got knocked back into her seat by her own squad, and decided to just bet instead.

”Put me down for Tasmin! Tasmin!” a spearwoman screamed from the second row.

”Brida! All of it on Brida! She’s gonna break her in half!” a dwarven forge hand hollered, banging a mug against the bench.

”Brenda! Get the slate!” an archer yelled, grabbing the freckled recruit by the collar. ”Write me down for Tasmin!”

Within a few minutes, the fever had swallowed the entire arena.

Brenda, who had somehow been put in charge of an entire slate without ever agreeing to it, was writing names so fast her chalk was smoking.

Runners dashed up and down the wooden stairs, chalk flew across dozens of planks and slates, and two girls in the third row nearly came to blows over whose name went first on the list.

The whole territory had split straight down the middle.

On one side, the vanguard, the heavy infantry and the dwarven smiths roared for Brida, pounding their fists in rhythm.

On the other, the scouts, the archers and most of the young recruits screamed for Tasmin.

When Morwenna finally tallied the plank and held it up, the bets were dead even, almost exactly half and half.

Up on the platform, things weren’t any calmer.

Thora had put her name down for Brida so hard the chalk broke... Lupina had bet on Tasmin and was now growling at Thora, Solenne had quietly put herself down for both, and nobody had noticed yet.

Morrighan’s bet had gone down without a word, and Morwenna had written it on the plank without asking, because the tail had already told her.

Silas let his head fall back against the carved wood of his chair and stared up at the gray clouds with a long dry groan.

”Unbelievable...” he muttered, feeling Eluned giggle against his chest. ”I leave for a few days, and I come back as the prize money.”

Beside him, Aurelia folded her hands in her lap and watched the chaos in the stands with a calm fond smile then she turned her head toward him with her white mantle shifting over her shoulders.

”The girls are truly spirited today, Lord Silas,” Aurelia said, her gentle voice somehow cutting right through the noise. ”You know them better than anyone... Who do you think will win?”

Silas paused, and the laughter faded from his face as he thought about it properly.

He leaned his elbow on the armrest and slowly stroked his chin, his dark blue eyes drifting down to the sand.

On the left, Tasmin was rolling her shoulders, her silver-streaked black hair swaying as her shadow flickered restlessly under her boots.

On the right, Brida was cracking her knuckles one by one with her dense muscled frame giving off the quiet pressure of a mountain that dared someone to hit it.

The whole platform had gone quiet, even Morwenna had stopped writing.

Down in the stands, the girls nearest the platform had noticed and gone quiet too, and the hush spread outward through the benches row by row until the whole arena was holding its breath to hear what their Lord thought.

Silas gave his chin one last slow stroke, and a faint glint of gold flickered in his eyes.

”I think it’ll be a draw.” Silas said.

WHOOSH!

The winter wind howled over the mountain rim and drove a thick sheet of snow sideways across the arena.

Down on the floor, the flakes melted the moment they touched the packed sand, warmed by the living roots Eluned had woven underneath it.

All around the ring, the benches creaked as a hundred and fifty women leaned forward at once.

Every breath was held, and every eye was on the two figures standing thirty paces apart in the middle of the sand.

Tasmin rolled her shoulders in a slow loose circle.

The silver strands in her black hair flickered against the collar of her fitted leathers as she unbuckled her weapon harness and tossed her twin chained daggers aside onto the sand.

Without the steel, her lean frame looked deceptively light, and her fingers curled into tight flexible fists.

Across the ring, Brida pulled her axe off her back and flung it to her right without even looking.

THUNK!

Her small shortsword went after it.

CLANG!

Then she heaved the heavy black tower shield off her back with one arm and tossed it onto the pile like it weighed nothing at all.

CRASH!

The shield hit the sand so hard that the whole stack of weapons jumped, and Brida dusted her palms off with a satisfied grunt.

”You really ought to reconsider, you thick-skulled cow,” Tasmin called out, her voice cold and sharp through the falling snow. ”Without that giant door you hide behind, you move like an ox stuck in tar... Give up now, and I might leave you enough teeth to chew your victory dinner.”

Brida let out a booming bark of laughter that shook her broad chest.

She stood with her boots driven deep into the sand, completely unbothered by the freezing wind in her sleeveless tunic.

Her thick scarred arms were bunched tight with the dense muscle coiled under her skin like braided steel cable.

”Listen to the little shadow rat squeaking before she gets squashed,” Brida sneered, rolling her neck until it cracked.

CRACK!

”You’ve spent so much time skulking in the dark that you forgot what a real hit feels like,” Brida taunted, flashing a wide arrogant grin. ”Without those butter knives, your punches feel like a summer breeze tickling my ribs... I’ve been waiting months for an excuse to cave your pretty face in, and today I get to do it with Lord Silas watching from the best seat in the house.”

”Keep dreaming, brawler,” Tasmin hissed, a sharp smirk tugging at her mouth. ”I’m going to enjoy pummeling you into the dirt today.”

She dropped low into a hand-to-hand stance.

Her weight settled onto the balls of her feet, her body angled to give Brida as little to hit as possible with her left fist hovering beside her cheek while her right hand stayed open with the fingers curled like talons.

Brida’s amber eyes lit up with pure delight.

”Come get some, then!” Brida roared, sinking her weight low and spreading her thick arms wide in her own hand-to-hand stance. ”I’ll enjoy beating the snot out of you twice as much!”

’Finally,’ Brida thought, her grin stretching even wider. ’No daggers, no chains, no flitting around on the ceiling... Just her face and my fist.’

’She’s going to charge straight in,’ Tasmin thought, her eyes never leaving Brida’s shoulders. ’She always charges straight in... Good.’

For a heartbeat, the trash talk died away, and the air between them seemed to drop ten degrees as their mana woke up.

Tasmin’s dark eyes flashed.

Wisps of pitch-black shadow spilled out of the corners of her eyes and trailed across her cheekbones like smoke.

The ground under her boots darkened, her shadow stretching out across the sand like spilled ink and creeping hungrily toward her opponent.

Across the ring, Brida answered with the weight of a mountain.

Her muscles tightened, and the veins along her forearms stood out like thick cords as raw earth mana ground together deep in her bones.

Her amber eyes ignited, and thick crimson energy poured out of them, curling around her temples like jagged smoke.

A feeling rolled off her chest, so strong that the sand around her boots started bouncing in little rings...

RUMBLE!

The snow falling between them began to swirl, caught between the creeping dark on one side and the red heat on the other.

At the front of the raised platform, Aeliana raised her right arm high over the arena.

”Begin!”

Her hand dropped, and neither of them waited.

BOOM!

The sand under their boots exploded as both of them launched forward at the same time.