Chapter 236 - 235: Who’s First?

Chapter 236: Chapter 235: Who’s First?

Olga didn’t react to the others’ attempts at consolation, but Inesha’s question immediately revived his spirits. He grabbed the steward’s arm like a drowning man clutching a straw.

"Exactly, Randolph! We’ve all been old friends for years. If you win this round, you have to introduce me to this Lloyd. You know this is the third time I’ve been completely wiped out..."

These words immediately drew Inesha’s ire, and she shot back:

"Have your losses made you forget the principle of first come, first served? Have you no class or shame?"

"Heh. Your own ’Reader’ wasn’t up to snuff, so now you want to borrow someone else’s? You’ve got some nerve talking about shame. Do you think he’s one of your boy toys?"

"A boy toy? Hearing you say it, that doesn’t sound half bad... The little fellow is quite handsome, and what a fine figure. He even makes my heart skip a beat."

"You shameless hussy!"

"You old bastard who can’t stand to lose!"

Seeing the two of them start bickering for no apparent reason, the steward could only rub his temples in exasperation. He then raised his left hand in a gesture, as if inviting someone to a dance.

A rift in Space materialized behind him, and from it emerged his "dance partner"—a figure clad head-to-toe in armor.

At this sight, the other two finally fell silent.

Both of them specialized in the Story path and had not ventured into Projection. If a real-world conflict were to break out, they would be no match for the steward, who pursued both paths.

Once things had quieted down, the steward said with a resigned sigh:

"You two are acting like a street thug and a shrew."

The two of them, equally exasperated, each replied:

"It’s not that we’ve forgotten our decorum, but this concerns our one chance at Transcendence. Decorum is useless here. Do you enjoy losing forever, serving as a stepping stone for others?"

"I don’t know how many more twenty-year spans I have left to lose. The next time we meet, I might be nothing more than an indescribable Demon."

The steward could only sigh at this and remarked with feeling:

"Alas... The method of Transcendence for our path is a bit too cruel..."

He waved his hand, dismissing his "dance partner," and continued,

"I can sympathize with your feelings, and I don’t mind Lloyd helping you. However, he is not my disciple or subordinate. We are simply friends, and I will respect and protect his personal wishes."

His words were a concession, a tacit approval for the two of them to seek Lloyd’s help in the next gamble.

This brought a flash of joy to the other two, and the color returned to their faces.

But before they could celebrate for even a second, the steward threw a bucket of cold water on them:

"However, preparing a stake takes twenty years. With Lloyd’s talent, he’s not going to wait two decades for you. I’m certain he will break through to Tier Five long before then..."

"And don’t even think about getting any crooked ideas, like forcing him to wait twenty years. I won’t allow it. Lord Demani and Lord Tirtus of the Radiant Sect won’t allow it. Even the Veto Saint won’t allow it!"

According to the rules of the "gamble," a "Reader" must be below Tier Five. The steward’s words were meant to shut down any wild ideas they might have, lest they become deranged enough to kidnap and imprison Lloyd, or force him into some disgusting Contract.

Yet, the two of them weren’t disheartened by this. On the contrary, they both began to laugh.

"Randolph, it seems you still underestimate us. Maybe it’s because you haven’t lost enough. If I recall, you’ve only lost once, haven’t you?"

"Well, he has to spend more time and energy on the Projection path. He’s not like us, who can dedicate our entire beings to this."

Hearing this, the steward seemed to realize something and quickly pressed,

"You two... Don’t tell me..."

"Preparing a single ’stake’ does indeed take twenty years and consumes countless resources and effort. But who ever said we only prepared *one*?"

"That’s right. Without Projection to fall back on, we had no choice but to invest more heavily in the Story path."

Seeing the two of them grinning triumphantly, the steward finally realized his own flawed assumption.

’These two actually prepared two ’stakes’ at once?’

But on second thought, he realized it was actually quite logical.

A Manifestation expert who specializes in the Story path, upon losing a gamble and their Story, also loses their foundation. Until they can write a new Story, they are as weak as small fry from the lower tiers.

’I have the power of Projection, so I’m not too concerned. It’s only natural that these two would have their own safety nets and foundations. Otherwise, how could they call themselves Tier Seven experts?’

"Even if I end up losing today’s round, I only need two to three months to get back to the table. And then, if I can get help from my little cutie, Lloyd, I’ll be able to advance to the Eighth Tier," Inesha said with a radiant smile.

Olga laughed as well, then narrowed his eyes and asked,

"I also only need two to three months. So, who goes first? With something like this, sooner is obviously better, isn’t it?"

To win the "gamble," one needed not only a powerful outside ally but also enough "gamblers" to sit at the table. Otherwise, a game couldn’t even begin.

The circle of Tier Seven Manifestation experts wasn’t large, and news traveled fast. Once people learned of a "Reader" like Lloyd—who was practically a cheat code—they’d likely refuse to play. Then, no matter how amazing Lloyd was, he’d be useless.

These two were old gambling hounds; they understood they had to seize this critical window of opportunity and win a crucial round before anyone else learned about Lloyd. Thus, the question of "who goes first" once again became a point of contention.

So Olga simply threw his hands open in a gesture of laying his cards on the table and said,

"Since my old friend Randolph doesn’t object to me contacting Lloyd directly, why don’t we cut to the chase? Let’s compete with our resources and wealth."

Inesha didn’t answer right away. First, she pulled out a compact mirror, glanced at her reflection, and smoothed the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes to make herself appear a little younger and more alluring. Then, she replied,

"Fine by me. Arguing won’t solve the problem; it’ll just give Randolph a good laugh. Let’s be direct."

With that said, they both turned to the steward and asked in unison,

"You’ll keep today’s events a secret, won’t you?"

The steward just smiled and shrugged, implying:

"My expenses for getting a seat at the table this time were not insignificant. And unlike you two, I don’t come from a wealthy, prestigious family..."

The implication was clear enough.

And so, the three of them began to haggle over the price of his silence.

As for the other two "Readers" still struggling inside the Story, no one gave a single thought to their plight.

Everyone knew there was no longer any suspense about the outcome of this gamble.

Although the Contract forbade an "Author" from revealing information about the story to a "Reader" beforehand, it wasn’t particularly difficult to bypass that restriction and help their chosen "Reader" identify whose Story they were in.

For example, the steward had prepared the lovely and adorable "Evelor" for Lloyd right at the beginning of the Story. As the plot progressed, he would also encounter the beautiful and elegant "Miss Desda."

In any case, as long as Lloyd could come to his senses, he would certainly be able to figure out whose story it was.

Of course, such a trick carried a significant risk. The familiar people and events might cause the "Reader" to identify even more strongly with their role, sinking deeper into the narrative, which would make the entire effort backfire.

Therefore, the steward’s arrangement was something of a gamble in itself—a bet that Lloyd would be able to come to his senses in time.

After all, he had made similar arrangements the last time he’d invited Lloyd to experience his Story, preparing both "Evelor" and "Miss Desda."

Clearly, his gamble had paid off.

’Lloyd never fails to impress!’

The steward was overjoyed and couldn’t help but muse to himself:

’Who would have thought that the little sly-boots who used to sell flowers would become so exceptional that even I am astonished?’

’It seems the Prophet from the Eternal City is truly formidable and worthy of awe. If not, I wouldn’t have followed the ’fork in Destiny’ and chosen to come to Radiant City, and none of this would be happening today.’

While lost in thought, the steward continued to haggle, pinching every penny. He’d already decided that he would split the hush money with Lloyd, fifty-fifty.

’This young man is worth the continued investment!’

............

At that moment, Lloyd, having reviewed the new knowledge that had sprouted in his mind, grew curious about the condition of his two opponents.

He was likely the only one in this gamble who still cared about them...

So, Lloyd slipped out of his room and wandered down the corridor. He activated his Spiritual Vision, his gaze penetrating straight through the walls and doors, and saw the other two drenched in sweat.

’Er... They seem to be struggling, huh?’

Lloyd pursed his lips and took out his pocket watch to check the time.

’It’s been an hour already. Haven’t they figured it out yet?’

’And the big shot was holding back in this game. If this were a real fight, the two of you would probably be corpses by now...’

’Then again, it’s a Tier Seven against Tier Fours, so I guess it’s not surprising.’

’If only I could watch their ’storyline.’ This is getting pretty boring.’

Musing to himself, Lloyd headed to the supply storage area on the first floor, hoping to find something to kill his boredom.

But just as he was about to head downstairs, he suddenly felt a peculiar sensation in his hand, making his palm—and his heart—tingle.

It was the Saint Statue he’d been holding. It suddenly wriggled free from his grasp, turned over, and tickled his palm with its tiny finger before hooking one of his own.

’Is this some kind of cryptic hint?’