Bets

Myth leaned back in his chair, tapping the table as he relayed the information.

"So here's the plan: we fight in Lowden. It's corrupt. Right up my alley. If we play our cards right, we could make good money."

Walker scowled.

"I'm not throwing any fights."

He sat up straighter, his tone firm.

"We should go with the safer option. Besides, you're working here now. In Lowden. If we stir up trouble, someone might recognize us. If that happens, the detectives—or worse, the police—could trace us straight to this bar."

Myth tilted his head, voice soft but pointed.

"Why so cautious, Sir Walker? We're not planning to rot here. We're getting out within a year, tops."

"The way you're planning all these risk-free solutions..." Myth said gently, eyes fixed on Walker, "you're not solving anything. You're just postponing the inevitable."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth, almost respectful—almost.

"Sir Walker," he began with deliberate formality, "you're not going to be fighting some top-tier champion right away. With all your professional training, you'll be taking on gutter brawlers—sewer rats, really."

A beat passed. Myth's tone remained calm, but his words carried weight.

"And let's be honest—you're the core strength of this group. If anyone's going to be in the ring when things get serious... it's you."

"So it's not just one fight," Walker said, narrowing his eyes. "You expect me to step in multiple times while you sit back in comfort, risk-free?" He let the words hang in the air. "That's a pretty one-sided proposition."

Myth didn't answer right away. He took a moment, as if considering whether Walker deserved the full truth.

"No, not really," Myth said at last. His voice was calm—measured. "If you're going to fight more than once, we're going to make it count. I'm not going to throw our strongest piece on the board just to earn pocket change."

He stood straighter, voice sharpening just a little.

"I expect you to take real risks, yes, Big ones.That's the nature of your strength. But don't think I'll be sitting in luxury either."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"Well then, Lowden arena it is," Walker said, pausing for a moment. "When does the fight start?"

"At ten," Myth replied, glancing around at the group. "Until then, I suggest we look for housing."

He turned to them. "What do you guys think?"

"Won't your boss know a few places?"

Ashley asked.

"Yeah, he does," Myth nodded. "But most of them are one- or two-bedroom units. Though... he did mention one raw house—three bedrooms, no interior work done yet."

"Wait," Myth said, leaning forward slightly. "Let me give you all a quick rundown of where we are."

He glanced toward the window, then back at the group seated around the table.

"This street we're on—it's at the edge of Lowden, right at the last stop on the tram line. We're pretty far from the more polished parts of Draymont"

He paused, letting that settle.

"Most of the crowd is in inner lowden which is closer to the polished district. Swarming with gangs and opportunists. Thugs looking for easy marks, turf disputes... it gets messy. But here, out on the fringe?" He tapped the table gently. "It's quieter. Honestly, this stretch is probably one of the safer ones in Lowden—relatively speaking."

"Where will I be staying once I get the job?" Victor asked.

Myth shook his head. "Not with us. You'll stay near your job. Safer that way. And we'll need a fallback location too—a safehouse outside this district, in case things go south."

Victor nodded without argument.

"Let's just take the three-bedroom house," Ashley said, brushing her hair back as she spoke. "Victor won't be around. We'll have a hard time finding another good place, and we might have to move again anyway. So let's just settle this."

Sira looked thoughtful. "But Ashley… that still leaves one person without a room."

Ashley gave a half-smile—sharp, deliberate. "Of course. Myth can sleep in the living room. It's only fair, considering he's the one who dragged us here."

Myth raised an eyebrow, amused. "Look at my beautiful wife, already plotting revenge. I'm touched."

Ashley didn't respond. She just narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed.

Myth sighed, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll adjust."

It was 9 PM.

The arena matches were about to begin. Walker, Ashley, and Myth boarded a local tram bound for inner Lowden.

Ashley was in disguise—dressed as a man. She wore Myth's white shirt, which fit well enough, and a pair of Walker's spare pants, which didn't. To dull her striking features, Myth had suggested she rub some dust on her face. The result was comical at best. The shirt hung decently, but the pants looked absurd, baggy and cinched tight with a piece of string.

Victor and Sira had stayed behind at the bar. To secure their safety, Myth had borrowed 1,000 sols from Riff, using their presence as collateral. It wasn't ideal, but it was the safest option under the circumstances.

They walked down Street 8. Graffiti coated the crumbling walls to their left and right, a chaotic mix of tags and symbols. A few more steps in, they spotted what they were looking for—a black peace mark scrawled over a rusted metal door.

They hung back for a moment, keeping to the shadows, watching the flow of people slip in and out of the building. No signs of trouble. Myth flagged down a passing man, slipped him some money, and asked a few questions in hushed tones. It all checked out.

Myth stepped up and gave the door a short, sharp knock.

It creaked open a sliver. A man stood inside, barely visible, with sharp eyes and a voice like broken gravel.

"What business do you have?"

Walker stepped up, no hesitation. "I'm here to fight," he said, his accent awkward but passable.

The man's gaze didn't waver. "Who told you about this place?"

"Heard it in passing," Walker replied, eyes steady despite the stumble in his voice.

The man leaned back, whispered something to someone inside.

Then, in a firmer voice: "These two can't follow you near the ring."

Myth responded smoothly, "We're here to bet."

The man nodded toward a ragged sofa in the living room.

"You'll need to pay a hundred. Give it to the guy sitting there."

He turned to Walker, pointing toward a young man leaning against the hallway wall.

"He'll take you to the match-runner. He'll explain the rest."

With that, Walker was led away.

Myth and Ashley handed over a note of 100 and followed an escort down a narrow, creaking staircase that led into the belly of the arena.

The door ahead creaked open. The first thing they saw was a metallic cage in the center, surrounded by square concrete stands. Most of the audience stood—especially in the lower stands near the cage, which were packed to the brim. People were still filing in toward the back.

A VIP stand stood elevated on one side, directly facing them from across the cage.

Myth and Ashley took position at the back, on the farthest stand, eyes on the ring.

"Myth," Ashley said in a low voice, "do you know why Walker keeps going on about avoiding risk?"

Myth shook his head slightly. "Not really. But I do think it's naïve to believe we'll make it out of the undercity without any risk."

"No, it's not that," Ashley replied. "Walker knows you're the only one in this group with a mind for strategy. He's good at digging up information, reading people, doing the detective stuff. But when it comes to actual planning, he has to rely on you. The problem is—your plans can get... intense. So he keeps bringing up safety to make sure you don't go too far."

Myth glanced sideways at her, amused. She still looked a bit ridiculous in his shirt and Walker's pants.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're right. If we keep playing it safe, we're stuck here. For months. Maybe even years," Ashley said, her tone firm for the first time.

Myth looked at her, genuinely surprised. She was finally stepping up.

"What are you getting at?" he asked.

"It's simple," Ashley said. "I'll back your risky plans—as long as they have real potential. I'm not going to be the one holding us back."

Myth narrowed his eyes. "Why are you so desperate to leave early?"

Ashley hesitated for a moment before answering. "I have someone waiting for me,"

Her eyes locked with his, a hint of resentment flashing beneath the surface.

Myth looked away, then gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Ashley didn't reply—but she didn't pull away either.

Ashley kept a close eye on anyone who looked important. Occasionally, she and Myth would ask people around them to identify individuals they pointed at. Over time, they managed to gather a few names and build a rough understanding of the current power dynamics in Lowden.

They waited.

It was around 11:00 p.m. when the announcer finally called out the next match—Raven vs. Cod.

Myth had already bet all his money on Raven, who was actually Walker in disguise.

The odds were 2.20 if Raven won and 1.65 for Cod, with a 6% house edge baked into the numbers.

He stepped into the cage—no shirt, black pants rolled high, like the underworld had raised him for this.