Chapter 6: Raising the Stakes

The next day, Ethan slept until noon. After waking up, he took his time washing up, then leisurely ordered a tomahawk steak for lunch and ate it slowly. Everything was done at a relaxed pace.

In the past, Ethan was always in a rush, constantly training hard to improve his strength. He barely had time to eat or sleep properly. This wasn't his preferred way of life. After experiencing the fast pace of 21st-century living, anyone would dream of a slower, more idyllic lifestyle. But circumstances forced his hand.

Rand Mitchell was like a boulder pressing down on his chest, suffocating him. For survival, Ethan had to push himself to the limit. Now, having escaped that environment and seeing hope for improvement, he felt the need to slow down.

As the old saying goes, "Build high walls, stockpile grain, and take your time becoming king." Only with sufficient strength could he reclaim his rightful territory and enjoy a prosperous noble life.

His current efforts were so he wouldn't have to struggle in the future. He even fantasized about modernizing his estate, with a complete drainage system, powerful heating, spacious bathtubs, convenient toilets, comfortable sofas, and beautiful, shapely maids. And a large brass hot pot, so that in winter, while it snowed outside, he could enjoy hot pot and drinks with friends in a warm, comfortable room.

Dreaming of the future, Ethan couldn't help but smile. But most importantly, he was waiting for his Short Selling skill to cool down. Once it had, he stood up, strapped the Champion's Blade to his waist, and headed for the door.

As he reached the inn's entrance, he encountered an old acquaintance—Locke, the guard, who was waiting with a carriage.

Locke greeted Ethan with a smile. "Mr. Ethan, I'm here to take you to Mr. Miloch."

Hearing this, Ethan felt a twinge of concern. He hadn't actually wanted Miloch to come and watch. It seemed unnecessary and too high-profile. It was something he had said offhandedly to buy time, but now it had become reality.

Ethan smiled. "Thank you."

He climbed into the carriage. It was a four-wheeled vehicle with a spacious interior, cushioned seats at both ends, and very comfortable. Since the gladiator training ground wasn't far, they arrived before Ethan had even settled in.

Ethan followed Locke to the training ground, where a crowd had already gathered. In addition to the gladiators, there were about a dozen well-dressed men and women. In the center stood a thin, sharp-eyed middle-aged man adorned with various gem-encrusted rings—a picture of nouveau riche.

"That must be Miloch," Ethan thought.

Indeed, it was Miloch. Ten years ago, he had been a fisherman living a precarious life. But he had taken advantage of the times, becoming a wealthy merchant in Marrow City within a few years. His rise was interesting: due to constant skirmishes on the border between the Aslan Empire and the Orc nation, both sides kept heavy troops stationed, leading to frequent minor battles. Marrow City, in the empire's hinterland, was a major grain-producing area, supplying the front lines.

Previously, grain was transported by land, with significant losses during transit. Miloch saw this inefficiency, partnered with friends, rented small ships, and profited enormously by shipping grain and weapons by sea. However, this venture was soon halted due to the high risks involved, under the pretext of citizen safety. Despite losing this business, the initial success had earned him significant capital, which he wisely invested in various profitable industries, amassing a fortune quickly.

Understanding that wealth alone was not enough in this society, Miloch sought a noble title to secure his status. Knowing it wasn't easy to acquire, he aimed to curry favor with influential nobles by forming a gladiator team, a favored form of entertainment among them. Although he found the sport barbaric, it helped him network with the aristocracy.

Today, upon hearing about the legendary gladiator's match, Miloch invited several nobles to watch. This wouldn't have concerned Ethan, except he saw Rand Mitchell among the crowd.

"Why is he here?" Ethan screamed internally. "If he sees my true strength, my life will be in danger!"

Rand Mitchell, there as a bodyguard for a viscount's son, noticed Ethan and frowned slightly before looking away, pretending not to see him.

Miloch, seeing that everyone was present, gave a few polite remarks before leading the nobles to a VIP section, complete with a tent and fresh fruit. Amidst the gathering, Rand subtly made a throat-slitting gesture toward Andrick. Andrick nodded slightly and, before the match began, loudly announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, since you've come to watch, let's make this match a formal gladiator duel, with a death match agreement. The loser shall bear no grudges!"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

"That's perfect!"

Miloch, pleased with the excitement but worried about Ethan's reaction, was surprised when Ethan approached and said, "I withdraw from today's duel. I don't want this job."

Miloch was stunned. He had invited so many nobles to watch, and Ethan was backing out, which could ruin him. He understood Ethan's hesitation. Gladiator matches offered prize money, while this job only provided a position, not enough for a life-or-death fight.

Quickly, Miloch offered, "The winner will receive the job and a 600-gold prize. How does that sound, Mr. Ethan?"

The mention of 600 gold coins made Ethan reconsider. He needed the job for money, and 600 gold coins would sustain him for a long time. He had also seen Rand signal Andrick, meaning they intended to kill him. Hiding his strength would only delay the inevitable. Better to win the gold and then leave Marrow City, returning for revenge when stronger.

Ethan smiled. "Deal."