Chapter 33: Golden goose: Not for sale.

She approached the men, putting on her most innocent face. "Excuse me, big brothers... who is this fighter you’re talking about?"

The men stopped talking and stared at her like she had just grown a second head. The silence was incredibly awkward.

"Are you new in Greenwich or just completely deaf?" one of them barked, laughing in her face.

"Yeah, seriously," another sneered. "Who on these streets doesn’t know Magnus? He’s the top dog in the pits, and the most miserable bastard alive. He never loses a fight and he never smiles. His agent takes him from city to city, town to town, challenging the strongest beasts in their arenas."

Down in the middle ring, a beast with tusks was dragged in by an agent. The crowd roared when the gates opened, as if this beast would be the spectacle of the season.

A man with a missing tooth slammed his beer on the table, "Magnus would break those tusks with one hand. I was in the capital last year when he fought a high rank purple flame lion. He ripped off all of its fur, locked his arms around the beast’s midsection, twisted and ripped. The guts spilled all over the floor, the lights burned bright. The audience went wild when he raised his bloody hand, holding a purple resonance core. They had to carry the agent out of the arena because he fainted."

Zyra shuddered, like a scared little girl. "He...he...must be scary?" She whispered.

The men laughed loudly at her ignorance and went right back to their gossiping, completely ignoring her.

Zyra walked away slowly, with a fake tremble in her legs, but inside, her heart was racing. Magnus. The name sounded vaguely familiar from somewhere, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he fit her criteria perfectly. She needed his skills, if she was to survive.

She needed someone incredibly strong, but in a desperate, terrible condition. Someone at the absolute rock bottom of their life. If she stepped in now, healed him, fed him, and changed his miserable destiny, he wouldn’t just be a guard. He would become a fiercely loyal hound to her forever.

It was scheming, morally ugly, but survival in this world was such. Agents controlled their fighters with poison; she was offering a cure. It was a win-win.

Zyra swallowed her last spoon of porridge, a determined glint in her eyes as she looked toward the dark entrance of the fighting pits.

"Do not worry, Magnus," Zyra whispered to herself, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Your savior is coming." But first, no wasting a single spoon of her breakfast.

She easily found the resting lounge of Magus’s agent. It was located right next to the fighting arena....so close, in fact, that the heavy stone walls trembled with every clash from the pits below.

The audience roared like a wave of hungry beasts. From the grimy corridor, she could hear the distinct, metallic click-clack of high-grade beast stones being traded at the betting windows. Betting slips flew through the air like loose arrows. The smell of cheap liquor, stale sweat, and old blood was thick enough to choke a normal person like her.

Even though she was about to meet this notorious agent_ Recaldo, Zyra was under no illusions. A man who owned a fighter like Magnus was not going to play nice, nor would he give up his golden goose just because she asked politely. Therefore, she wasn’t planning to play nice either.

She summoned Spice who slid out of the beast domain, and the snake instantly coiled itself tightly around her right wrist. Its tongue flicked out, sensing the tension in the air. Next, the Storm Tail Squirrel popped out, quickly diving into the oversized pocket of Zyra’s jacket. It seemed to be traumatized by the booming roars from the arena made its tiny ears twitch nervously.

"Stay quiet, both of you," Zyra whispered, patting her jacket pocket. "We are here to do business. The aggressive kind."

She paused outside the door of the lounge. Inside, raised voices were arguing about profit margins and beast rations. Zyra leaned against the wall, waiting patiently with her arms crossed.

A few moments later, the door flew open, and a couple of sweaty, angry-looking men stomped out, cursing their bad luck after losing a private bet.

The moment the doorway cleared, Zyra slipped inside like a ghost. Before anyone could even notice her entrance, she reached for the key in the lock and firmly locked the door.

The office was small, dark, and suffocating. Recaldo sat behind a massive desk stacked high with messy betting slips and ledgers. He was a round, greasy man wearing too many cheap rings, currently counting a pile of glowing high-grade stones with the smugness of a man who thought himself completely untouchable in this small town.

Two bulky bodyguards stood in the corners, their arms crossed, looking with amusement, like she was a joke. "Locking the door is unnecessary." One said, with a laugh.

Recaldo looked up from his pile of shiny stones. He glanced at Zyra’s young face and unimpressed expression, completely misjudging her status.

"The betting windows are downstairs, little girl, you do not look like a big fish. No private bets for you." Recaldo barked, waving a hand dismissively. "But since you’re already here, out of curiosity, how much are you betting on Magnus? Make it quick. I’m a busy man."

Zyra walked over, her boots clicking loudly on the floorboards. She stopped right in front of his desk, looked him dead in the eye, and said flatly, "I want to buy your prize fighter."

The agent didn’t even blink. He let out a loud, mocking laugh, not even bothering to look up from his ledger again. "Not for sale. Get out."

Zyra narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Everything is for sale in this world, Boss Recaldo. All it takes is the right price."

"Not him." The agent smirked, leaning back in his creaking chair and tapping a thick finger on the desk. "He is my golden goose. He brings in more stones in a single night than you will see in your entire miserable life. You couldn’t afford him even if you sold your soul to the most prestigious clan."

The two bodyguards chuckled darkly in the corners, clearly thinking this girl was some delusional kid who had lost her mind. She looked so poor, how could she afford Magnus?

Zyra let out a long, dramatic sigh. She really, deeply hated smug men. They always made things so much more complicated than they needed to be.

"Well, I tried the peaceful way," Zyra muttered to herself.

Without another word, her hand darted to her belt. She pulled out the special V-mist spray, mixed with some of Spice’s poison. Not enough to kill, but just to numb.

Psssssh! She sprayed enthusiastically.

A thick, yellowish mist exploded across the desk. Instantly, the air inside the locked office was filled with a stench so foul, so deeply offensive to the human senses, that it defied logic. It smelled like a combination of thousands of rotten eggs, a family of angry skunks, and pure, concentrated despair.

"Ugh! What the...!" One bodyguard immediately gagged, dropping to his knees and clutching his throat as his eyes watered fiercely. The other bodyguard slammed his back against the wall, dry heaving violently.

Recaldo coughed loudly, waving his fat hands wildly to clear the air. "What the hell is this?! You crazy b..."

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

With blinding speed, Spice uncoiled from Zyra’s wrist. The little green snake shot across the desk like a streak of lightning and struck.