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A collective murmur rippled through the aristocrats. Ten million credits was a massive fortune, even for the wealthy gamblers in the inner lounge.
Alex didn't even look at the towering, axe-wielding gladiator. His pupils stayed locked onto Malakor's sweating face.
"Ten million credits is small change," Alex said calmly, "but if I am going to waste my energy on your dog, money isn't enough to interest me."
Malakor frowned, his fat brow wrinkling. "Then what do you want, woman?"
"If I could defeat your champion," Alex said, his voice dropping into a cool, commanding tone, "I don't want your money. I want unrestricted access to the coliseum's deepest underground holding cells tonight."
"And I want the right to hand-pick ten slaves directly from the private dungeons as my personal trophies and bodyguards."
The moment the words left Alex's lips, Malakor's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
His face turned red, then pale, completely caught off guard.
He couldn't answer that. He didn't have the authority.
The deepest underground dungeons and the private slave cells were strictly controlled by the Windrake family.
You must know, the Windrake family was one of the only two Earl families in Iron Creek City, with many members of their family capable of directly inheriting noble positions starting with multiple official Earl titles to Viscounts to tens of Barons.
Unless it is a direct order from the Duke, or the current city lord, no outside merchant or a noble, no matter how rich they are or how high their status, could never gain access to their private dungeons.
Alex knew that. He hadn't made the demand to negotiate with Malakor; he didn't even take this loud-mouthed fatass seriously.
He already guessed that there's someone, might even be the Windrake's family members behind the fatty, making their move to check his true background.
However , he was also planning on using Malakor as a stepping stone to force the real masters of the house into the open.
Instead of waiting for Malakor to stammer out an excuse, Alex slowly turned his head away from him, completely dismissing him like a barking stray dog.
He looked past the crowd, fixing his glowing Feral Gaze directly onto the well-dressed coliseum manager standing near the bar, and beyond him, toward the darkened, two-way mirror booths of the upper directors' lounge where the Windrake family representatives were secretly watching.
The silence in the lounge stretched on, heavy and suffocating.
Everyone held their breath, turning their eyes toward the manager to see if the house would reject such an outrageous, breaking-the-rules demand.
Ten seconds passed.
Then, the manager pressed a finger to his hidden earpiece, listening intently to a voice from the upper booth.
A slow, greedy smile spread across the manager's face. He stepped forward, bowing respectfully toward Alex.
"The management finds Lady Sterling's terms... highly entertaining," the manager announced, his voice ringing clearly through the hall.
"The Windrake family agrees to back the wager! If you defeat the champion, you will be granted the pass, with full, unrestricted access to the lower dungeons to select your ten trophies tonight!"
A wild cheer of excitement erupted from the surrounding nobles!
The boring cocktail party had just transformed into a high-stakes, exclusive blood match!
"Perfect," Alex thought, a cold, victorious smile touching the corners of his lips.
"Y-You heard the manager!" Malakor stammered, trying to regain his confident posture as he wiped sweat from his forehead.
He pointed at his barbarian gladiator. "Get in the ring and let's see what you're really made of, girl!"
Alex didn't even dignify Malakor with a reply.
The stadium management wasted zero time capitalizing on the wager.
Realizing the massive amount of money they could rake in from such an outrageous match, they immediately pushed the announcement to the main broadcast feed.
Above the sprawling sand arena, giant holographic screens flickered and changed.
The ongoing advertisements and fighter standings were wiped clean, replaced by a split-screen display that drew an instant, deafening roar from the thousands of spectators packed into the concrete stands.
On the left side of the glowing screens stood Abu, a massive, seven-foot-tall wall of scarred muscle, gripping his heavy double-bladed battle-axe and reinforced alloy tower shield full of bloodlust.
On the right side was the new challenger: "Lady Sterling."
The holographic camera had zoomed in on Alex standing in the VIP lounge.
With striking short black hair, flawless porcelain skin, and a slender, curving hourglass figure framed by an ivory blazer, he looked less like a gladiator and more like an exquisite piece of art thrown into a lion's den.
The gambling odds flashed wildly beneath their portraits, the numbers spinning like a slot machine as money poured in from every corner of Iron Creek City.
The arena announcers' voices echoed through the massive overhead speakers, practically breathless as they detailed the crazy terms of the bet and started the official ten-minute countdown clock.
The vibration of the cheering crowd shook the floorboards beneath Alex's boots. The sheer scale of the attention was staggering, and for Alex, it was pure fuel.
Inside his chest, his Yin-Serpent Mana Circuit buzzed with a sudden, addictive heat.
Every pair of eyes locked onto his image, every greedy whisper in the stands, and every shockwave of excitement vibrating through the stadium fed directly into his system.
He opened his interface, watching the numbers climb at a crazy speed.
[ Name: Alex]
[ Age: 19/121]
[ Race: Human / Snake Demon Hybrid (Mutating)]
[ Feminization Progress: Phase 2/9 (Ecdysis) 64.3%]
[ Profession: Elite Swordsman, Temptress, Apprentice Alchemist]
[ Cultivation Level: C - Rank (+)]
[ Cultivation Technique: Rank 1: Iron Body Foundation Art- Lv 4 (1322/5000)]
[ Cultivation Aptitude: Good ]
[ Genes/ Talent: Ancient Naagin (Enchantress) (+), Recovery (+)]
[ Gene Abilities: Shedding, Feral Gaze, Empathic Resonance, Void Yin Constitution ]
[ Genetic Skills: Thermal Spirit Sight Lv-2, Serpentine Musculature Lv-2, Cold-Blood Optimization Lv-2, Scaled Dermis Lv-2, Pheromone Secretion Lv-2, Yin-Serpent Mana Circuit Lv-2]
[ Martial Skills: Rank 1: Flowing Spirit Sword Forms- Lv-5 (perfection)]
[ Spells: Demon Snake Summoning Lv 1 (2/100)
[ Source Power: 553 ]
After checking his skills, Flowing Spirit Sword Forms had already reached perfection.
He saw it right before his eyes: the Source Power value ticked upward without stopping.
556... 559... 563...
It was increasing at an average of two to three points of Source Power every single second just from the sheer hype and obsession swirling around his public persona.
Alex shifted his gaze to his combat stats, pulling up his primary profession tab.
[ Profession One: Swordsman]
[ Professional Rank: Basic Rank, Level Three (Elite) (Three levels in total, corresponds to E, D, and C Ranks)]
[ Professional Talent: Sword Mastery Lv 6 (Sword skill proficiency gain increased by 70%.)]
[ Professional Skills: One-handed Sword Mastery Lv 3 (At Apprentice level, increases one-handed sword damage by 30%), Two-handed Sword Mastery Lv 1 (At Apprentice level, increases two-handed sword damage by 5%)]
[ Professional Attributes: Swordsman Attribute 1: Physique +55 (Average of Strength, Defense, and Agility)
Swordsman Attribute 2: Gain 3 Free Mastery points at each level up.]
A faint, cool smile touched the corners of his lips as he read over the data.
Beside him, however, Leo was practically having a nervous breakdown.
The young man's face was pale, his eyes wide with sheer panic as he looked from the holographic countdown above the arena back to Alex.
His hands were trembling so badly he had to clench them into fists against his thighs.
"Boss... or, uh, My Lady... are you out of your mind?!" Leo hissed, keeping his voice dropped to a desperate whisper so the nearby aristocratic guards wouldn't hear him.