Chapter 515: The Grand First-Year Combat Festival: Betting System

"I believe Ezra Ashenlocke will still win, though."

The fifth boy said it calmly while looking at the betting information displayed on his Para 12.

"Plus, my bet has already come to an end since yesterday when they reached the Eighth Round. I didn’t wait for them to pass the Eight round."

A proud smile appeared on his face as he leaned back slightly, clearly pleased with how his bet had turned out.

"Oh, that’s true."

The fourth boy nodded as the realization finally returned to him.

The fifth boy had placed his bet with the expectation that the chosen First-years would continue advancing, and Ezra, Cyrus and Maxwell had already reached the Eighth Round, meaning the particular part of his bet concerning Ezra had been settled.

The conversation should have ended there.

Instead, the first boy sighed, looking around at the crowded moving train.

"Guys, I’m sorry to say this, but we are really lucky we aren’t even rated in this Combat Festival."

He gave a helpless smile.

The others understood what he meant.

They were First-year students as well, which meant they all participated in the Grand First Year Combat Festival, but none of their names had appeared among the fifty students listed in the official betting system.

"Yeah, only the people from the Duke Houses, powerful Count Houses, powerful Viscount Houses, and powerful High-Ember Houses. Names where listed"

The third boy lazily counted the different Noble ranks on his fingers as he spoke.

"Don’t forget the Royals."

The second boy pointed at him, reminding the group that the Royal Family had also produced several students whose names appeared on the betting list.

"Those guys made a lot of students and adults broke..."

The third boy grinned.

"Hehehe."

The group laughed lightly.

The laughter blended with the constant noise of the train.

The wheels continued rolling over the railway tracks beneath them, producing a steady metallic rhythm as the train carried hundreds of students toward the Main Administrative Center. Beyond the windows, the snowy landscape of the Royal Academy passed by in long stretches of white and gray, with the occasional Steam Carriages and New models of Steam Vehicles moving along the roads beside the railway.

"But actually..."

The sixth boy cut into the conversation.

His expression had changed.

He no longer looked like he was simply joking with his friends.

Instead, he seemed to be thinking about something.

"The students placed in the odds system might have been chosen through our Academy rankings."

He said it calmly.

The others turned toward him.

Their expressions slowly changed from amusement to curiosity.

"And what brought you to that thought?"

The fourth boy asked.

The sixth boy adjusted his Para in his hand before explaining.

"You know we all did the General Test, as well as our assignments, normal class tests, practical tests, and club activities."

He paused briefly, making sure everyone was following him.

"So, from what my older sister told me about what her set discovered during their own First-year time, the Academy rankings have already been accumulated during the month of preparation for the Grand First-Year Combat Festival."

The boys listened more carefully.

The sixth boy continued.

"Think about it. Every one of the students whose names showed up on the bet system must have been evaluated in one way or another, because people like Maxwell and even Davie’s name showed up."

His fingers moved slightly as he counted the different forms of evaluation.

"I believe the Academy board has already done the accumulation of all our General tests, assignments, class tests, practical tests, club activities results, and used it to create our first year Academy rankings."

He looked around at his friends.

"So, the Britannia Stock Market, which is the one organizing the Betting System of the Combat Festival, obviously must have taken the information of the students who already ranked amongst the top fifty and used its own analysis to pick those who would actually make it far in the Combat Festival."

He raised his Para slightly.

"That is why those fifty names we all saw were listed."

He finished his reasoning with a small nod.

The fourth boy stared at him for a moment before nodding as well.

"That makes a lot of sense."

"Yeah, that makes massive sense."

The first boy also nodded.

"I agree."

An upperclassman spoke from nearby.

His own group of friends had gradually joined the conversation after overhearing the explanation. They moved closer to the boys, and soon several students from both the First-year and Second-year groups were looking at their own Paras and Starlixs devices.

Bet slips appeared one after another.

Some students were comparing the people they had chosen.

Others were checking which Young Alchemists they should still choose for the next round.

The Streamliner slowly became filled with conversations about odds, possible winners, and which students were worth risking money on.

Because the most important part of earning a lot of money was coming soon.

The biggest advantage of picking well-known First-years with smaller odds would shine during the Ninth Round.

Because their odds would double when they reach that round.

Then, as the rounds continued, the multiplier would grow even larger.

By the time the later round arrived, the odds would become several times higher than their starting value.

The students understood that this was where the real opportunity lay.

A person who had trusted a strong Young Alchemist early in the tournament could potentially earn far more than someone who waited until the student’s odds had already risen.

That was why the train, which is also known as the Streamliner, had become almost like a moving betting hall.

Everywhere people were discussing the strongest First-years.

Some favored Ezra Ashenlocke.

Others favored Lady Vera Ashenlocke.

Some trusted Lady Diane Bergwyn or Lady Willow Derlis.

There were also students who believed Sir Cyrus Burnwick, Maxwell, or another powerful Young Alchemist would eventually reach the final round.

Especially...

Sir Ravenor Brunwick.

Their journey toward the Main Administrative Center continued peacefully while these discussions filled the train.

Cyrus, however, who had been sitting calmly beside Ezra throughout the conversation, with his headset covering his ears, and a calm piano piece playing through it, his eyes remaining mostly closed.

Cyrus appeared to be completely disconnected from the noise surrounding him.

But he had heard everything.

Every single word.

Even with the music playing, Cyrus’s hearing was still sharp enough to catch the nearby conversation.

I also wish I wasn’t part of the people on the bet list.

He thought to himself.

There was a faint sadness in his expression.

Being placed on the betting list meant that people were constantly calculating his chances of winning.

It also meant he couldn’t partake in the placing of bets.

The rules the organizers of the Betting system placed, made it illegal for any student on the betting list to make any bets.

Or else they would be disqualified and punished with Academy point reduction.

Cyrus lowered his head slightly.

"It’s not fair."

He muttered quietly to himself.

"You can say that again."

Ezra replied in the same low voice.

His eyes remained closed.

Although he didn’t show much emotion, he also didn’t like the fact that everyone whose name had been listed on the betting system wasn’t allowed to bet.

There was something strange about watching other people make money by betting on your own success while you couldn’t participate in the same system.

If only Lucy wasn’t in seclusion.

Ezra thought to himself.

He slightly regretted making Lucy enter seclusion before he had known about the betting system.

If she had been outside, she might have been able to participate in the betting.

But there was nothing he could do about it now.

Several more minutes passed.

The train continued forward.

The sound of the wheels remained steady, and the snowy scenery outside gradually changed as the train approached the Main Administrative Center.

Almost an hour had passed before they finally reached their destination.

The train slowed.

Steam escaped from the mechanical systems beneath the First-class carriage, drifting along the platform as the train came to a stop.

The doors opened.

Ezra and Cyrus stepped out together with the other students.

Several students who had also reached the Eighth Round noticed them and immediately wished them good luck.

"Good luck, Ezra Ashenlocke!"

"Good luck, Sir Cyrus Burnwick!"

"Make it to the Ninth Round!"

Ezra simply nodded toward them.

Cyrus raised one hand in acknowledgment.

The two boys then made their way toward the Arena.

Many of the other students went in different directions to meet their families, who had also remained within the Royal Academy premises since the beginning of the Combat Festival.

The entire area leading toward the Arena was busy.

Families filled the paths.

Nobles walked beside their children while servants carried bags and merchandise.

Non-Nobles gathered around the many stalls that had opened up around the Academy grounds.

Most of the stalls were selling merchandise belonging to the favorite Young Alchemists of the Combat Festival.

Some had banners.

Some had miniature figures.

Others sold clothing with the faces or House symbols of the more popular students.

There were also several stalls displaying small Holographic Screens.

Those screens were showing recordings of the previous day’s matches.

People gathered around them, watching the fights again while eating food bought from nearby stalls.

Ezra’s plain black eyes shifted toward one of the screens.

He immediately recognized the fight being displayed.

It was his battle against Desmond Derlis.

The screen showed the fight in slow motion.

A crowd had gathered around it.

More people continued stopping when they realized what was being replayed.

Unlike some of the other fights, Ezra’s battle against Desmond had attracted a large audience because of the hand-to-hand combat that had taken place during its final stages.

Several people were especially interested in the moment Ezra had redirected Desmond’s momentum and sent him turning upside down.

Cyrus noticed the screen as well.

He placed both hands behind his head as he walked beside Ezra.

"That hand-to-hand combat against Desmond was legit cool."

His voice carried a relaxed tone.

"I got chills just watching your fight."

He laughed brightly.

"I’m so lucky I don’t get to face you, because I don’t want to be seeing the world upside down and getting humiliated."

Ezra glanced toward him.

He didn’t respond immediately.

The replay on the Holographic Screen had reached the exact moment Cyrus was talking about.

Ezra redirected Desmond’s momentum.

Desmond’s body rotated through the air.

For the people watching the replay, it almost looked effortless.

Several spectators couldn’t hold back their laughter.

Even some of Desmond’s female fans, who were still wearing Desmond merchandise, covered their mouths as they watched the sight of their favorite Young Alchemist being turned upside down.

Some looked embarrassed for him.

Others simply shook their heads.

Ezra could feel a few glares being directed toward him.

He didn’t need to turn around to know where they came from.

But more than the glares, he could feel the other reactions.

Respect.

Affection.

Admiration.

Some young Nobles and Non-Nobles even began taking pictures of Ezra and Cyrus as the two boys continued walking toward the Arena.

A few students whispered excitedly after recognizing them.

Others raised their Para, Starlixs, Zphones devices and quickly took photographs before the two Young Alchemists disappeared into the crowd.

Inside the Arena itself, the place was still a little empty.

But...

Outside, however, a large number of people from across Britannia had already gathered.

They stood waiting near the entrances while Academy Professors and security staff coordinated the movement of the crowd and asked everyone to remain patient.

The atmosphere was gradually becoming livelier as people continued entering.

Then a familiar voice sounded through the area.

"Good morning, my beautiful Britannians."

Professor Liliana walked toward the front of the crowd with a microphone in her hand.

A pleased smile rested on her face as she greeted the audience.

She wore an elegant, mainly white gown mixed with wine-colored details. The fitted off-the-shoulder design extended down over her legs, while wine-colored flower accessories had been arranged neatly within her emerald hair.

The left side of her front hair partially covered her left emerald eye.

Her lipstick matched the wine-colored parts of the gown, while her gloves followed the same white-and-wine color combination.

A matching scarf rested over one shoulder.

Her appearance immediately caught the attention of many unmarried Noble men who were only a little younger or older than her.

Several stared openly.

Others exchanged knowing smiles.

"Good morning, beautiful Professor!"

Many of the men responded.

Some spoke flirtatiously.

Others called out in a teasing manner.

"Awwn, thank you all."

Liliana waved toward the crowd with a pleased expression.

Several people laughed.

Some of the men smiled wider after receiving her response.

However, not everyone shared their enthusiasm.

Several women, especially the younger ones, narrowed their eyes slightly while looking toward Professor Liliana.

The Professor merely continued smiling at the crowd as the atmosphere around the Arena grew livelier.

The Eighth Round was about to begin.