You found two of your little geese. Make sure they complete their Tutorials. (2/9)

This is clearly intentional, I noted to myself. Somehow, the System knew about my earlier encounter with those two and decided to make me their caretaker? If it's like this, then the other seven are probably people I've met before as well... damn. A chill ran through me as the realization hit. And of course, Leah and Jimmy would be among them, wouldn't they?

"Thank you very much, dear System," I muttered under my breath, my words dripping with sarcasm. Then I raised my voice to the announcer, "Am I free yet?"

Of course, I knew that there were still at least two more battles to go. But I still had to ask and gauge the announcer's reaction.

The thin gremlin's face twisted into a sneer, his monocle glinting as he addressed the crowd. "Can you see this, ladies and gentlemen? This beast thinks it can ask questions! Just one victory and it believes itself my equal!"

Before I could respond, a searing beam of light shot from the announcer's monocle, striking the ground mere inches from my feet. The impact left a tiny smoldering crater and a trail of smoke in its wake. The gremlin's mocking laughter echoed from his floating disk high above. The crowd roared with laughter at the announcer's mockery and display of power, though I noticed the vampire couple remained silent, watching the exchange intently.

"Well then, shall we show this presumptuous creature its place?" The announcer spread his arms wide. "After all, one victory means nothing when you haven't proven yourself against a truly worthy opponent!"

I could already guess where this was headed. The two-headed T-Rex's cage was probably already on its way. Nobody had even bothered to remove the octopus's massive corpse from the arena—it lay there like some grotesque decoration, dark ichor still pooling around its crushed skull. The sight of it didn't seem to bother the audience at all. If anything, they seemed to appreciate the macabre touch.

"You know what?" I called out, keeping my voice light and casual. "Why don't we skip the dramatics and just bring out my next opponent? Unless..." I grinned up at him. "Unless you're trying to milk this show for all it's worth?"

The announcer's smirk faltered slightly as he tapped his monocle but didn’t activate it. "Oh my, such impatience! But very well—if our little champion is so eager to meet its doom..." He snapped his fingers, and sure enough, the grinding of gears echoed through the arena. One of the massive gates groaned open, revealing tracks identical to those that had brought me in. The cage that emerged moved with surprising speed, wheels clattering against the metal rails. The beast inside thrashed against its confines, making the entire structure shake and rattle.

The two-headed T-Rex tried to burst from its cage with a thunderous roar that shook dust from the arena walls—and it almost managed to do just that. Though only about two meters tall—barely taller than me—its compact frame radiated lethal power. Both heads snapped and snarled at one another before focusing their predatory gaze on me, razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the arena lights. Its scales shimmered with an iridescent purple-black sheen, and veins of crimson pulsed beneath its armored hide. Despite its relatively small size, every movement suggested this creature was far more dangerous than any prehistoric predator Earth had ever seen.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer's voice boomed. "In this corner, we have our beloved champion, the Terror Twins, the undefeated MIRRORFANG RAVAGER!" The crowd went wild as both heads roared in unison. "Twenty-seven victories, zero losses! Not a single opponent has survived longer than five minutes against this magnificent beast! Peak A-Rank, level 480 beast against what deceptively looks like a mere level 0 human—what are the chances?!"

At least this one looks like it'll put up more of a fight, I thought.

"Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer continued. "Will our arrogant little human survive another round? Or will both heads of Mirrorfang feast on his remains? The odds are quite appealing—one to fifty against the human!"

"Hey," I called up with a grin. "Can I place a bet on myself?" My eyes briefly flickered to the vampire couple in the stands, giving them a meaningful look.

The crowd erupted in laughter while the announcer wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Oh, how delightful! The beast thinks it can participate in our civilized gambling! Next thing you know, it'll want to join us for tea!"

I raised my voice to carry across the arena. "Your loss! Anyone smart enough to bet on me now might just make a fortune!"

Even as the crowd's mockery continued, a System message appeared before me:

[Special Betting Option Available]

You can bet your life against the System.

Win condition: Victory without using any Mana in battle.

Reward: 100,000 System Points.

Failure: Immediate Main Quest failure upon using even the slightest amount of Mana

Would you like to accept this bet? [Yes/No]

System installation: 48%

This was interesting. The System was offering me a chance to earn a significant fraction of what I needed to pay off my hundred-million-point debt—just a thousand more bets like this and I'd be free. The stakes were high, especially against an opponent that had killed twenty-seven foes in a row... but that wasn't the important part. The real problem was that my Mana Sense told me this beast stood at the peak of Tier 4. Not an Alpha, thankfully, but still a far more dangerous opponent than the octopus. Also... I couldn't quite discern its powers, which I didn’t like.

For a moment I considered if I should let my beloved Antipucker shine, but immediately realized that using it without Mana would be problematic. Plus, wouldn't it be quite an overkill, anyway? I didn't need an RPG launcher to shoot a mouse.

I observed the arena's layout—the dead octopus, the severed tentacles, my own cage still open in the corner... Maybe defeating the reptile would be easier than I thought. I might even win the bet. I approached my cage and filled my body with Gravity Mana, or as they called it on Luminosa—Darkness Element. It was silly how they had both Shadow and Darkness as different elements when it was obviously just Gravity. Or, to be more precise, Mass. But "Mass powers" sounded less cool than "Gravity powers," so I preferred the latter term.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

It wasn't a simple Mana Boost but rather a full-fledged Primal Surge of the element that filled my entire body with dark Gravity Mana, forming complex patterns as it empowered my muscles, tendons, and bones. In this state, I was an unmovable mountain, five tons of mass, strong enough to contend even with some weaker Tier 5 Beasts and Demons in terms of raw strength, if only for a moment. Barely feeling any resistance, I broke my cage apart, tearing out four of its rods under the eyes of the buzzing spectators. I deactivated the Surge, returning to my much weaker state but now wielding two weapons in my hands, as well as two spares. After all, neither my Quests nor objectives mentioned that I had to fight barehanded, right?

And didn't the System say that I would be forbidden to use Mana only in battle itself? There was no problem if I gave myself a little "doping" that wouldn't require any additional usage of Mana, so I sent a current of electricity through my nerves, temporarily energizing them. Of course, it wouldn't be nearly as effective as even a basic Mana Boost, but it was still enough to improve my reaction speed by about fifteen percent for the next few minutes. With my preparations complete, I accepted the System's bet.

"L-Let the battle start!" the gremlin declared after swallowing hard, and the T-Rex's cage finally swung wide open. It seemed that, unlike most of the audience, the announcer actually realized how shocking the feat I had demonstrated was—whatever those cages were made of, it wasn't something that could be easily broken.

The Mirrorfang lunged out of its cage, both heads snapping at the air with precise, controlled movements that belied its fearsome appearance. I'd faced enough intelligent predators to recognize the calculating look in its eyes—this wasn't some mindless beast. I, in turn, took a battle stance, holding two metal bars like swords.

"Getting some weapons first, I see? Smart move!" the announcer called out. "But will it be enough against our champion's special ability?"

As if on cue, the beast's body began to shimmer and split apart, dividing into two separate one-headed versions of itself. Each was slightly smaller than the original but moved with the same deadly grace. I couldn't use my Mana Sense to check how their power compared to the "full version," but they didn't seem much weaker at all. The crowd roared its approval—clearly, this was a favorite trick.

Interesting, I thought, twirling the metal rods in my hands. This reminded me of the time I'd fought the Twin Wyverns, though they had been two separate beasts rather than one splitting up. The T-Rex definitely used a different source of power compared to the Elements and Sins with which I was familiar. Let's see how well they work together.

The two Mirrorhalves—or whatever you'd call the split versions—circled me from opposite directions. One lunged forward while the other moved to flank me, their timing perfect. Without Mana enhancement, their speed was impressive—as fast as a Sound-Boosted Tier 4 Fighter at the rank's peak, which said a lot. A normal person wouldn't even see a blur.

I sidestepped the first attack while deflecting the second with one of my makeshift weapons. The metal rod rang from the impact but held firm. Good quality material, I noted. Should last long enough.

The beasts recovered instantly, this time attacking simultaneously from both sides. I dropped and rolled between them, causing them to nearly collide. Nearly—but they adjusted their trajectories at the last second, showing remarkable control.

"Having fun dodging?" the announcer taunted. "You can't run forever!"

I grinned, rising to my feet as the creatures regrouped. "Just getting warmed up! Though I have to admit—" I parried another strike from a snapping jaw with one rod while using the other to deflect a tail swipe, "—this is more entertaining than the octopus!"

The twins struck again, but this time I was ready. Using one rod to block the left one's bite, I swung the other in a wide arc, catching its partner across the snout. The blow would have crushed a normal dinosaur's skull, but this beast was made of tougher stuff. Still, it recoiled with a pained screech.

My victory was short-lived. The injured Mirrorfang suddenly melted back into its twin, reforming into the original two-headed beast. When it split again seconds later, both copies showed no sign of damage.

"Ah, now you see!" The announcer's voice rang with glee. "Why do you think our champion has never lost? No matter how much damage you deal to its split forms, they heal upon reuniting!"

"That's a neat trick," I admitted, backing away to create some space. The dead octopus lay behind me, its massive body providing an interesting obstacle. "But every technique has its weakness."

The creatures charged again, more aggressively this time. One leaped over the octopus's corpse while the other tried to corner me against it. Their coordination was impressive—probably the result of being literally of one mind. But I had faced worse odds during the Siege of the Thousand Cuts, where I had taken on an entire clan of ninja-assassins without using magic.

I vaulted over one of the octopus's tentacles, using it as a springboard to land behind the charging beast. Before it could turn, I slammed both rods into the base of its tail—not hard enough to break it, but enough to throw off its balance. Its partner attempted to capitalize on my apparent vulnerability, but I was already moving, rolling under its bite and coming up between them.

"Stop playing with your food!" someone shouted from the crowd. "Just kill it already!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Playing? Who's playing?" I deflected another coordinated attack, this time using one of the Mirrorfangs' momentum against it, causing it to crash into its twin. "I'm just trying to figure out if I can win the crowd's favor before ending this. Or did you talk to the dino? Nah, that can't be!"

But I had to admit, without Mana enhancement, this was actually providing a decent workout. Every dodge and parry had to be perfectly timed; every counter-attack precisely measured. It definitely was faster than me; without the unusual metal rods, I wouldn't be able to hold on for too long. Even now, one slip-up would mean taking damage—and a lot of it—and none of my Elements were exactly good at healing wounds. Plus, it would be rather shameful to be hurt by an opponent of a lower Tier, especially when I had defeated beasts of similar strength back when I had been only a Tier 3—Mana Expert—myself.

The Mirrorhalves were starting to show signs of frustration—if that was even possible for a two-headed dinosaur that could split itself. Their attacks became more ferocious but less coordinated, exactly what I'd been waiting for.

"You know what's funny?" I called out while weaving between their increasingly desperate lunges. "Everyone's so impressed by their ability to heal by reuniting, but nobody's asking the important question—what happens if they can't reunite properly?"

With newfound purpose, I pressed my attack. The metal rods whistled through the air as I landed precise strikes on both copies—cracking ribs here, damaging joints there. The Mirrorhalves, realizing they had accumulated too much damage, began backing away from me. Their intentions were clear: retreat, merge, heal, and resume the fight at full strength.

"Not happening," I muttered, zeroing in on the more injured copy. It attempted to maneuver around me to reach its twin, but I was already in position, ready to execute my plan. As they rushed together to merge, I acted swiftly, darting forward and driving one of my spare rods directly into the convergence point. The twins fused—but something was wrong. The embedded rod disrupted the merging process, distorting their form.

The resulting creature was a mess. Both heads tried to split again, but the foreign object lodged in its body made the transformation incomplete. It staggered, disoriented, its movements uncoordinated. The damage I had dealt to its separate halves remained, with no chance to heal through reformation.

"And that's what we call a critical weakness," I announced, almost feeling bad for exposing the creature's vulnerability so publicly. Almost.

The beast tried one last desperate attack, but its confusion made it predictable. I stepped inside its guard and, with precise strikes from my remaining rods, hit several key points along its spine and skull. The Mirrorfang Ravager collapsed, its legendary winning streak finally broken.

"Impossible!" the announcer sputtered. "How did you—without any—"

"I believe," I interrupted, looking directly at the vampire couple, who I noticed had even more displeased expressions than before, "that some people regret not listening to my advice and placing their bets on the dino. And as for me..." I heard the System notification confirming my own bet's success, "let's just say it was worth the risk."

The crowd's reaction was mixed—shock, outrage, and grudging admiration warred in their expressions. Some more heads burst. But I wasn't paying attention to them anymore. My eyes were already on the holographic screen, and I could feel my grin widening...

[Congratulations! You have defeated the Mirrorfang Ravager without using Mana. You won the bet, 100,000 System Points awarded.]

...until I saw one more message.

[Warning! One of your little geese has just lost 1 Revival Point!]