60. Betting Round 2 (2/2)
They continued like that for some time until Isaac could no longer remember how many updates he’d pointed out. The more events they focused on, the easier it felt to him. For as much as he liked to call the system questionable and poorly thought out (which make no mistake, it certainly was), there did seem to be some logic and pattern to it.
He was much better at this than he ever had been with schoolwork, Isaac thought—not without some bitterness. He shook his head, pushing the thought away, and continued focusing on the competitions, calling out stat updates and observing when he wasn’t.
“Okay, that one next,” Fable said after Isaac had guessed another defense update. The Traveler pointed over to where the wall attack event had been. It must have finished while they were watching the other events (had that much time passed already?), because the wall had been removed and replaced with a crude wooden pole that had an array of smaller rods sticking out of it like horribly unbalanced branches. At the end of each “branch” was a small circular target painted onto a thin strip of cloth. The targets swayed from where they hung, tied loosely to the contraption, and the branches supporting them also bent, so thin that they could barely support their own weight.
One by one, various participants strode forward and aimed at the targets. The goal, Isaac soon realized, was to hit the target cloth pieces without accidentally snapping the branches, and to do it as efficiently and cleanly as possible. It was a skill test.
It was much harder than it looked, if the amount of snapped branches soon littered across the ground was any indication. The slightest amount of pressure on the supporting rods, even too strong a gust of wind, was enough to make them break. The branches regrew themselves each time, resetting the targets for each new competitor.
The longer the event went on, the more Isaac grew to appreciate the way the targets had been laid out in such a way as to be as difficult to hit individually as possible. He didn’t know if Lilith or Fable had designed this event (he told himself it was Lilith, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the mental dissonance of praising Fable), but they’d done a good job.
He frowned, forcing himself to focus and observe a little longer this time before starting his predictions. Skill was quite a bit harder to define than some of the other stats, so he’d need to make sure he understood it properly. Plus, it was kind of entertaining seeing people go up and hit the targets. Perhaps because of the nature of the event, there was a wide array of techniques that people used. Some chose to hit them with their fists, others threw projectiles, used various weapons, some straight up flung magic energy beams. One person had even used an Underside variation of telekinesis, though that hadn’t actually gone very well; the person’s control hadn’t been nearly precise enough for the task.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The next contestant strode, or in this case flew, forward, and Isaac easily recognized Sharil. She didn’t look as tense as she had before, he noted with relief, and the demon silently studied the target as she extended her claws to their full length. She was flapping her six wings much slower than usual, likely to minimize the amount of wind they produced.
Isaac watched as, assessment done, the woman lunged forward, claws swinging in a flurry of movement as the demon descended on the targets, leaving the cloth pieces shredded on the ground below her in record time. Not a single branch was snapped.
“Update,” Isaac said. He waited, and the results soon flashed across the tablet screen.
[SKILL: 21]
He blinked. No change, then. Isaac sighed and shook his head, slightly disappointed to have been wrong, but he’d had a good run. He’d gone much longer without making a mistake than he ever would’ve expected, after all.
“Okay, I messed that one up. Is the bet over now or what?”
When there was no immediate response, Isaac frowned and turned to face Fable, who was staring at the tablet screen. There was no grin visible on their face, and their eyes were as unreadable as ever, fixed on the glowing gold. Isaac didn’t realize how strange it would be to see the other Traveler without their usual shit-eating grin. It was unsettling.
He shifted in his seat, about to repeat his question, when Fable looked up and waved lazily. “Yeah yeah, you lasted longer than I thought.” The other Traveler’s signature lazy smirk returned. “Well, since you didn’t totally suck, I guess you can go watch the other events if you really want. I’ll be oh so gracious and do the rest of the updates.”
“Wait, really?” Isaac blinked. He hadn’t thought the other Traveler would actually keep their word. Fable snickered.
“Aw, I’m hurt. You gotta have a little more faith in me. Now go on, shoo shoo.”
Isaac stood quickly, still just as surprised but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d rather not stick around in case Fable changed their mind. He was about to turn away when Fable suddenly called out, “Hey, bring the tablet with you.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you were doing the stat updates?”
“Yep, but unlike you, I don’t need that thing.” They grinned. “Try not to let it leave your sight, okay? Else Lilith’ll get upset, and no one wants that.”
Isaac frowned, but picked the device up. It was still glowing gold, the light shifting and dancing as new sheets were processed. Isaac stared down at it for a moment, then focused his attention back up at Fable’s unchanging grin. They made a shooing gesture. “Be back for the last event,” they said. Their smirk sharpened. “It’ll be tons of fun, I promise.”
Isaac just hummed, not bothering to give a verbal response, and turned away to exit the booth, tablet tucked securely under his arm.