Blessed Bet

Content Warning: Gore

000

“You seriously forgot my lunch?”

I was in one of my classes, the one I shared with Morgiana.

The class itself had just ended and students were packing up to leave when one boy raised his voice to the man kneeling next to him.

The lad was a goth, with black eyeliner and eyeshadow around his purple eyes, of which he had a second pair on his forehead as a result of body modification. His short black hair had streaks of more purple in them. Both sleeves of his Mercury uniform were missing, and this was because he had ten arms, five extending from each shoulder, all of them mechanical. They were slim, purple, and the fingers ended in sharp tips. More signs of his cyborg nature included the sharp teeth that were visible between his black lips.

As for the man being yelled at, he was a slave as was evidenced by the face tattoo he had. It took the form of a black swirling pattern that covered the right half of his face. He was a balding man in his forties, and he wore a white shirt, brown pants, and laced shoes that were all old. His yellow eyes were directed only towards the floor.

“How could you not bring my lunch with you?”

“You said you wanted to buy lunch today.” The old man’s voice remained even.

“I changed my mind! You should always bring food with you just in case!”

“Of course, master. A thousand apologies.”

“Apologizing doesn’t change anything. This is the second screw up today. First you forgot to polish my arms. Just because I had them altered with Alchemy so they can’t rust doesn’t mean they don’t need to be taken care of.” The goth raised his leg and slammed his foot down on the back of the bowed head of the slave. Even when the man’s face crashed into the floor, he didn’t make a peep. “You’ll get the usual punishment when we get home.”

“Of course, master.”

Despite the cruel scene occuring in the lecture hall, nearly no one, not even the teacher, paid it any mind. It was a normal occurrence. Slaves were considered subhuman, so mistreating them was considered fine. To bat an eye at a scene such as the one I was watching would be seen the same as getting upset that a child was playing roughly with their toy.

Many students dragged their personal slaves with them everywhere they went, as most of the student body was wealthy. They also often brought personal android servants, though their AI wasn’t complex enough to achieve all the things a human could, so slaves were always the more popular choice.

I wanted to step in and help the slave being abused, but I didn’t know how I could, given nothing illegal was going on, and I feared I would only piss his owner off and cause him to face more intense abuse than he would otherwise.

Hussain would jump in, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d achieve anything. After seeing him fail to win over Morgiana a few days ago, it was clear there were limits to the power of his positivity.

“Get your foot off of him.”

The voice came from the row of seats behind me.

It was Morgiana. Her eyes were burning and it seemed like it was taking most of her willpower not to bare her gnashing teeth at the goth boy.

“Why? I’m just punishing him.” The goth spoke without anger, only confusion.

“He’s a person.” Morgiana stomped towards the goth and the slave.

“No, he’s a slave. He’s got a face tattoo. You can’t see it right now because his face is against the ground.”

“Slaves are people. They shouldn’t even be enslaved.” Morgiana’s normally quick speech gave way to hard, more drawn out words. She got right in the goth boy’s face. “Nobody should be considered property. Nobody should force their will on someone else.”

“Oh boy, you’re one of those abolitionists that have been all over the news lately? Listen, believe whatever you want, but this guy’s my property.” The boy ground his heel into the back of the slave’s head. “When and if the law changes, you can complain to me. Until then, leave me alone.”

“No.” Morgiana reached down and grabbed the thigh of the leg pinning the slave to the ground. When she did, four of the goth boy’s arms grabbed her. One was on her neck, two were on her head, and the fourth was on her shoulder.

“This is assault. You’re the one who’ll get dragged out of here, not me.”

“I don’t care. Get your foot off this man.”

“Please, don’t do this, miss,” the slave said in a soft voice. “Don’t cause yourself to suffer on my account. I’m a slave, this is simply how things are.”

Morgiana let go of the goth boy’s thigh, and so he let go of her. He probably assumed she had decided to give up at the slave’s words.

Lying on the floor, belly down, Morgiana looked the slave in the eye, the both of them now at the same elevation.

“What’s your name?” Morgiana said.

“I lost my name a long time ago. I am simply number five-five-two.”

“What is your name?”

“…Bezabeh.”

“Did you become a slave, or were you born one?”

“I was enslaved after my homeland was conquered by Alf-Laylah wa-Laylah and I didn’t immediately swear fealty to the Laylan government.”

“What did you do before you were a slave?”

“I wrote romance novels.”

“In that case, it might be hard to find a new career unless you lean into the skills you learned as a slave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to free you.” Morgiana stood up and pointed at the goth boy. “You know about the Blessed Bet Law?”

“Get your finger out of my face.” The goth boy smacked Morgiana’s finger away from him. “And no, I don’t.”

“It’s an old law that nobody invokes anymore, the type most people assume was abolished. You'll see it mentioned on lists of fun facts on the internet. The law allows two people to agree to a Blessed Bet, a wager that the loser legally has to follow through with the terms of, even if those terms are something like, ‘the loser will give all their possessions to the winner’ or ‘the loser must commit suicide.’ If the loser tries to avoid honoring the bet, the government will step in to force the loser to either keep to their word or die.”

“Lemme guess, you wanna make a Blessed Bet with me?” The goth crossed one pair of his arms.

“If I win, you will not only free Bezabeh, but you will financially support him until he can find a job and can maintain a stable, fulfilling lifestyle without help. What do you want if you win?”

“Nothing, cause I’m not doing this bet thing. I have no reason to.” One of the boy’s arms waved as if to shoo Morgiana away.

“If you want money, I’ve got a lot to give. You can have anything you want if I lose.”

“I’m rich enough that I can have whatever I want already. There’s no reason for me to risk losing my slave.”

“So you’re afraid you’ll lose.”

“I am. No shame in admitting it.” The goth shrugged.

“We can make a bet where you have the advantage.”

“I have to get to my next class.” The goth removed his foot from Bezabeh’s head. “Go back to my room and prepare my lunch.”

“Yes, master.” Bezabeh stood up. His face was blank. He didn’t even react to his abuse, or at least he didn’t anymore.

“I’ll be your slave too if I lose!” Morgiana’s voice was quickening. “Whatever you want!”

The goth made for the door, Bezabeh right behind him.

There was no way for Morgiana to emancipate Bezabeh if his owner didn’t engage with her.

Bezabeh was a single slave. Freeing him wouldn’t kill the overarching institution of slavery that was ingrained in Alf-Laylah wa-Laylah. But he was someone who needed help, and he was here, in front of Morgiana, and in front of me.

My paranoia about possibly making things worse hit me again, but only for a moment.

Right when the goth reached the door, I let out a yell loud enough to grab the attention of everyone still in the room, which was only the goth, Bezabeh, Morgiana, and a couple other students. Everyone stopped and waited for more from me.

I ran towards the goth while I pulled out my notepad and pencil to scribble what I wanted to say. Upon reaching the slave owner, I shoved the notepad in his face.

“Make a Blessed Bet with me. I’ll face any punishment for losing.” That was what I had written, though my handwriting was so sloppy that it was taking the goth a while to decipher it.

When the goth did manage to comprehend the text, one of his hands covered his mouth and he thought for a moment.

“Explain,” the goth said.

I began writing rapidly. Thankfully I could move faster than light because the laws of physics were a suggestion in Underworld. Morgiana ran over to read my new message along with the goth and Bezabeh.

“If I win, it’ll be the same as what Morgiana asked for. Bezabeh is freed, you support him until he can take care of himself and is happy. You can do whatever you want with me if you win. You’ll get to be the guy who finally made the Sultan’s daughter pay for her sins.”

Bezabeh paled and shook his head in the negative. He mouthed the word ‘don’t’.

Morgiana’s face displayed frustration, shock, confusion, and a bunch of other emotions I couldn’t place.

The goth closed his eyes and continued to think.

“What will we bet on?” the goth muttered.

“Whatever you want,” I wrote.

“How about an Alchemy duel? I fight someone who we both agree on, I bet I’ll win, you bet my opponent will win. My opponent can’t be you. I’m not on the level of someone who can make a fucking star at will. That sound good?”

I nodded.

“I’ll decide on what I’ll have you do later. Who’ll my opponent be?”

“Me!” Morgiana stepped between me and the goth. “I started this, I’ll fight you!”

The goth looked at Morgiana’s white shirt.

“I’m cool with that. You?”

I nodded.

Morgiana wasn’t in Sulfur like she was in the anime, so it wasn’t a safe bet that she’d win, but I couldn’t exclude her. She clearly cared deeply about saving Bezabeh and she came up with the idea of making a Blessed Bet. This was her fight and I trusted that she wouldn’t have volunteered if she wasn’t strong. There was also the bonus that keeping Morgiana involved would allow for opportunities to talk with her and get to know more about her.

“Alright. We can figure out the details later. I have to get to my next class.” The goth opened the door and left the room, Bezabeh following behind him. Bezabeh looked back at me for a moment. His eyes were drooping.

“Why are you doing this?” The look Morgiana gave me was very different from Bezabeh’s. It was piercing. “If you think this will win me over so I’ll let you meet my family, you’re wrong. They won’t ruin their reputations by associating themselves with you.”

I wrote on my notepad.

“I want to free Bezabeh. Slavery is wrong.”

“Is that gonna be your slogan when you try to reinstate the Sultanate?”

“The Sultanate can burn in Hell. I just want to help people. Plus, it’s the only way I can atone for my mistakes.”

“What mistakes?”

“I made choices without thinking them through, and they led to a lot of people suffering.”

Morgiana’s expression was unreadable to me.

She and I stood in silence for a few seconds.

Eventually, Morgiana left the room.

In the coming days, the details of the wager were ironed out and a judge, who was meant to act as an impartial third party, was chosen.

Hussain was on board with what I was doing when I told him. He was worried about what consequences I might face, but he trusted me and trusted Morgiana.

Morgiana still avoided talking to Hussain and I, though she was less harsh in her wording. She spent most of her time training in private for the fight.

A month after the bet was actually made, the day of the duel arrived.

Said duel would take place in a building known as The Flask. It was the building on campus primarily dedicated to housing various battle arenas for Alchemy duels and combat training. The building was over one kilometer tall and was designed as a spiraling cone made of screens that come together to display various images that can be seen from nearly anywhere on campus. What were primarily shown were advertisements and information on upcoming battles the tower would host. There were also times where purely aesthetic images were displayed, like schools of fish swimming up the spiral of the tower, or abstract color patterns that morphed over time.

Of all the arenas inside the building, one of the largest would host Morgiana’s battle. This was because a great number of people had shown up to see the fight. Why? Because people wanted to see the champion of the despised Scheherazade be defeated, so I’d face retribution for my family’s sins.

The arena itself had typical stadium seating surrounding a cylindrical platform that would serve as the battlefield for the fight. Said cylinder was one hundred twenty meters in diameter and sixty meters high. There were many different terrains that the battlefields in The Flask could mimic, but the participants in this fight agreed on a plain one. It was just a flat stretch of titanium, the same metal that made up the rest of the cylinder, and an element neither fighter could manipulate. Standard practice was to make sure that the battlefield wouldn’t give any of the fighters a distinct advantage unless the terrain choice was meant to be random. Because of how well polished the floor was, it was able to reflect everything above it like a mirror.

Hussain and I sat in the crowd, the people around us either giving us death glares or throwing things at us that I had to catch with invisible hands of oxygen. While I was playing defense, Hussain was cheering for Morgiana at the top of his lungs.

Speaking of Morgiana, she and the goth boy stood ten meters apart on the battlefield. Neither was in uniform. Instead, the goth boy wore what was essentially a spike covered motorcycle suit that protected all but his head and arms. One of his hands held a visor helmet as his foot tapped the metal floor. Morgiana wore a black compression shirt and matching compression shorts. She was taking deep breaths while her eyes scanned her opponent’s every attribute.

On a platform attached to the edge of the battlefield stood the judge for the bet. She was an elderly teacher named Yara who didn’t teach any classes that I, the goth boy, or Morgiana were taking. One of her arms was always behind her back while the other held a cane in front of her. Her hair was a dull orange and she wore an abaya. It was her job to determine if everyone was following the terms of the bet, and that no cheating was going on. If someone cheated, then they, or the involved party they were backing, automatically lost the wager.

Atop a platform opposite to the one Yara was on stood a portly man with a bushy beard who wore a shirt vertically striped white and green. He was the referee for the match, the normal judge who enforced the regular rules of an Alchemy duel. You won when your opponent gave up, was restrained beyond their ability to escape, or was determined to be no longer fit to continue the fight. Weapons and armor were allowed. No outside help. No killing.

The audience was cheering for my downfall. It had gotten out what I’d have to do if I lost the Blessed Bet.

If Morgiana was defeated, I’d have to take one punch to the face from every person on campus who wanted to take a swing at me, and I wouldn’t be allowed to defend myself in any way. There was a non-zero chance that I’d die from that many hits to the head.

That wasn’t my main concern. My thoughts were primarily on Bezabeh. He had his head stomped onto the floor, and he barely flinched. Such abuse was so commonplace for him that he either couldn’t muster any indignation or sorrow in response anymore, or he knew that expressing any emotion would only make the mistreatment worse.

We had to free Bezabeh.

“Fighters, get ready!” the referee said.

The goth’s arms began to transform, pieces sliding, shifting, and appearing. Four arms turned into cannons, while another four turned into shields, and the last two stayed as they were while they put the goth’s helmet on his head.

Morgiana took a wide, low stance, her arms in front of her, palms towards her opponent. There wasn’t a single sign of fear on her face, only calm and focus.

“Adil versus Morgiana, begin!”

The goth boy opened fire with his cannons, releasing fist-sized shells that flew with such speed and force that they left windstorms in their wake. Adil could control neodymium, and his arms were neodymium magnets, an alloy of neodymium, iron, and boron. Manipulating the magnetism of the neodymium allowed Adil to propel the rounds he fired with great velocity boosted by the traditional firing mechanisms of the cannons themselves.

Morgiana’s palms appeared to release a black smoke that formed a few person-sized clouds around her. Adil’s shells hit the clouds, and explosions were released on contact. The blackness blocked the energy of the detonations from hitting Morgiana.

Adil jumped in surprise at the explosions. His shells weren’t meant to detonate.

The black clouds were actually masses consisting of quindecillions of individual carbon atoms that weren’t bonded to each other. Calculating the individual trajectories of that many atoms was an awe-inspiring feat of intellect.

When attacks like Adil’s shells hit the clouds, the individual atoms composing the projectiles would be pierced through by strengthened carbons atoms that would be perfectly positioned to hit each and every one of the shells’ atoms. This reduced the shells to their subatomic particles and released enough energy from the atomic fissions to generate explosions that scattered Adil’s disincorporated particles. The fact Morgiana could see individual atoms and perfectly line them up with each other to collide showed she had absurd vision.

Morgiana’s smoke could stop nearly any attack composed of matter. Obviously, this atomic destruction could also be used as a weapon, making the clouds a nigh-perfect offense and defense.

Carbon atoms poured out from Morgiana’s palms without pause. The blackness would blanket the entire battlefield and destroy everything Morgiana wished in less than a yoctosecond if not stopped.

Adil figured out the nature of Morgiana’s technique and responded by creating a wall of neodymium. It was clear that he figured out how Morgiana’s clouds worked as the atoms of the partition were strengthened in the same way the carbon cloud’s atoms were, so it wouldn’t be easy for the smoke to break down the barrier. It would be faster to go around it, but that would at least slow the blackness down and give Adil more time to come up with a proper counter to Morgiana's fighting style.

But instead of going around the partition, the smoke simply went through it as if it weren’t even there. Instead of lining up the carbon atoms to clash with the neodymium atoms like when she destroyed the shells, Morgiana forced the carbon particles through the gaps between the wall’s molecules. This allowed the blackness to phase through the barrier.

Adil’s attempt to buy time had failed. The blackness was closing in on him. He pointed only a single cannon towards the incoming wave, focusing as much magnetic force as he could on powering up a single shot.

A shell fired from the cannon with such velocity that it shook the whole building. When the shot hit the smoke, it wasn’t deconstructed. Instead it blew the carbon mass away. The speed of the attack made it too fast for Morgiana to line up the carbon atoms with those of the projectile in time to break it down. The same went for the shockwave the shot generated.

The blackness had been dispersed throughout the room, Adil’s own neodymium wall was vaporized by the shell that was headed for Morgiana.

Jets of blackness shot from Morgiana’s feet to propel her up and out of the way of the shot.

But instead of going up, she was moving towards the projectile.

Adil created a magnetic pull powerful enough to attract the natural, weak magnetic field of the human body, letting him draw Morgiana in the direction of his shell.

Morgiana’s composure broke. Her eyes were wide and a cry of fear leapt from her mouth. She lifted her arms and began to form a shield of carbon.

She wasn’t fast enough. The shell broke through the incomplete barrier and smashed into Morgiana’s arms, pushing them into her chest and launching her backward. Her arms bent into c-shaped curves and her chest sunk inward slightly.

A cloud of carbon materialized behind Morgiana and acted as a cushion that stopped her from flying off the battlefield.

Spikes grew out of the shell before it could fall from Morgiana’s arms, stabbing into her. Before they could go all the way through her arms, the spikes and the shell as a whole were ripped out by another carbon cloud Morgiana made. The blackness flew away with the barbed projectile before destroying its atoms.

While the shell exploded far away, Adil fired another shot with velocity nearly equivalent to the last one. It was slower than the last one due to the strain it put the goth under to use such a powerful attack. Like before, magnetic force pulled Morgiana towards the shot.

Morgiana’s face twisted and wrinkled as her mangled arms flapped like rags in the wind, blood flicking all around her.

And yet, despite being only twelve years old, she didn’t cry.

Her endurance felt different from Hussain’s. He was confident in the face of adversity and powered through pain as he thought only of his goals.

Morgiana’s tolerance for pain was paired with a look in her eyes that was just like Bezabeh’s. It was strong, yet resigned. She wasn’t looking past the pain, she was accepting the pain. Those were the eyes of someone who had experienced abuse.

But then Morgiana’s eyes changed. Her brow furrowed and her teeth gnashed. She roared.

In front of Morgiana appeared a u-shaped tube of solid carbon, one large enough that the incoming shell was able to fly in one end, follow the tube’s curve, then fly out the other end.

Said other end was pointed right at Adil. He was unprepared to face his own projectile. All ten of his arms raised, catching the shell. All the limbs cracked as Adil was pushed back, his bracing feet carving trails through the titanium floor.

When Adil managed to stop himself and dropped the shell to the floor, he didn’t try to counterattack. Instead he simply stood in place, breathing heavily.

Morgiana was doing the same. Both fighters were taking a moment to recover from the brief but intense back and forth that had constituted their fight so far.

Compared to other Salt students her age, Morgiana was an exceptional combatant.

But she should have been stronger. The fighting style taught at Morgiana’s family’s dojo was called Carbon Arts. It was a martial art that revolved around controlling the carbon within the user’s body to enhance their strength, speed, durability, and other such parameters. Boosted stats were mixed with adaptable martial techniques to make a combat method that could overcome nearly any foe.

In the anime, Morgiana used Carbon Arts as her primary fighting style, but she wasn’t using it in this new timeline. Either Moirgiana didn’t learn Carbon Arts in this timeline, or she was choosing not to use it for some reason. If it was the latter, it couldn’t have been because the carbon clouds were more effective, but that wasn’t the case. Carbon Arts was the magnum opus of Ali Baba, one of the strongest people to ever live in Underworld. The carbon clouds were strong, but they were still the imperfect invention of a literal child. If Morgiana was using Carbon Arts against Adil, she would have won the fight already. She also would have been sorted into Sulfur rather than Salt.

Morgiana ended the pause in the duel by generating more carbon smoke that charged towards Adil. The goth shot another super speed shell, this one even slower than the second. When the projectile hit the cloud, the blackness wasn’t blown away. Instead of being made of disconnected carbon atoms, this cloud was one solid mass, and an elastic one like the one that Morgiana used as a cushion before.

The blackness stretched like rubber as the projectile dug into it. Then the cloud snapped back and the shell was flung back towards Adil. It was the same reversal trick as before, but it wasn’t as telegraphed as the u-shaped tube counter.

This took Adil even more off guard than before. He dodged to the side, but the shell hit one of his right arms, shattering it even though Adil had filled the cracks with more neodymium. The rebounded shot had more velocity than the original shot as Morgiana actively pushed her carbon atoms into the shell as it bounced to add to the redirected kinetic energy.

The shockwave that followed the projectile destroyed another two of Adil’s right arms, and left the remaining pair on the brink of crumbling.

Blackness seeped up through the ground below Adil mid side step. Morgiana had phased some of her carbon atoms through the ground for a surprise attack.

Adil rose into the air and narrowly evaded the geyser of carbon atoms that erupted from where he once stood. He had used his power to attract and repel human magnetic fields on himself to achieve flight.

The geyser started widening so it could eventually encompass the entire floor of the battlefield.

Adil fired a fourth super speed shot, and it barely managed to be too fast for Morgiana to line the carbon atoms with those of the shell. As the black pillar dispersed, the shell hit and shattered the floor of the battlefield, blowing away even the blackness that had still been underground.

Through Adil’s magnetic control, the shell curved its trajectory as it kept flying and headed for Morgiana.

Simultaneously, Adil flew in a large arc to come at Morgiana from a different angle.

Morgiana knew she couldn’t dodge the shot as she would get magnetically pulled towards it, so she created another cushion cloud which bounced it away, but then the shell did a u-turn and flew at her again from a new direction. It wasn’t moving too fast for Morgiana at this point, but now Adil was coming at her too.

A sphere of carbon clouds formed around Morgiana to destroy the incoming attacks. She was pushed into a corner and so she threw out the best defense she could make quickly. The reason she didn’t opt for another elastic cloud was that it would make the shell bounce only to come back yet again.

This was what Adil wanted. While the shell had its atoms crushed and exploded, the goth put all his focus on the five new neodymium arms he created on his right side. They all punched towards the sphere.

And right before they hit, Adil used absolute concentration to strengthen the arms as much as possible, as swiftly as possible. Just like with the wall he initially made to try and stop the carbon clouds, Morgiana wouldn’t be able to shatter the atoms in these arms quickly, certainly not quickly enough to stop the five fists from piercing through the sphere of unbonded atoms.

Morgiana didn’t have time to think of a counter.

She took five simultaneous punches to the head.

The wind blast created upon impact blew away the sphere around her and her body shot towards the floor of the battlefield.

Upon impact, the entire cylinder that propped up the battlefield shattered into pebbles. Both the referee and judge had to jump away to avoid getting caught up in the destruction. As his fists hit their mark, Adil had added as much magnetic force as he could to the strikes. The quintuple punch carried such power that the five arms Adil used had shattered in the process.

Adil descended to the pile of rubble that was all that remained of the battlefield. He touched down and dug his hands into the metal dust, pulling out Morgiana who’s entire head was bloody and swollen. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were shut. The only indication she was still awake was the way her legs frantically kicked as Adil held her over the ground by her throat.

“Give up, or I’ll beat you until the ref calls the fight.” One of Adil’s free hands formed a fist.

I don’t know when I started standing, but I was by this point, as was Hussain. We were both yelling. While I made incomprehensible noises, Hussain repeatedly screamed to Morgiana how she could still win and to keep fighting.

There was only one voice as loud as Hussain’s.

“Give up! Please, give up!” Bezabeh was standing in front of one of the two gates at the bottom of the room that the fighters used to get to the cylindrical battlefield. He was bawling his eyes out. “Don’t do this to yourself! You're just a child!”

“Shut up!” Adil didn’t bother facing Bezabeh. “I didn’t give you permission to speak!”

“Ms. Morgiana, please, surrender! I’ll be okay! I’ve accepted my lot in life! Don’t suffer for me!”

“Shut your mouth already!” Adil said. “You accepted your lot in life? You’ve gotten all complacent and think you can talk whenever you want! I’ll show you when we get home that there are whole echelons of punishment you haven’t felt yet!”

“Don’t talk to him that way!” Morgiana’s raspy voice spoke with surprising strength. Her eyes had opened and they burned into Adil.

“What is with you? He’s a slave! I’m allowed to tell him what to do!”

“Nobody can tell anyone what to do!”

“You’re trying to tell me what to do right now, you dumb bitch! What’s your problem? Do your parents tell you what to do a lot and now you’re projecting?”

“Something like that,” Morgiana snarled quietly. “Whether or not I can relate to the feeling of having your free will be superseded by someone else, slavery is wrong, and that’s why I’m gonna kick your ass and free Bezabeh.”

“And how are you-”

Adil’s head jerked backward, and a web of fissures appeared on the chin of his helmet.

Blood splattered on both Morgiana and Adil, but it wasn't coming from the goth’s struck chin.

It was coming from one of Morgiana’s arms, which she whipped upward despite the fact that the limb was mangled. It was because the limb was in such a sorry state that Adil didn’t expect Morgiana to use it to attack.

A cry came from Morgiana, but she didn’t let her pain distract her. The blow to the chin had rattled Adil’s brain and left him dazed. This was a chance to follow up.

Morgiana made a small carbon cloud appear and fly at Adil’s head. The face of the goth’s headgear was consumed by the blackness, but Adil managed to regain his awareness and he jerked his head back.

Only the front of the mask was destroyed as Adil pulled his head away from the cloud, but the shattered atoms released the energy inside them. Adil and Morgiana were consumed by a blast that blew them away.

The goth hit the ground, his hair singed and the skin on his face burned badly. His clothes were ripped up and his helmet was gone. Despite taking an explosion to the face, he was already beginning to stand back up on shaky legs.

Morgiana was on the ground, also burned and with ruined attire. She didn’t move, though she was still conscious.

“I’m gonna smash your skull in!” Adil’s fists clenched so hard they began to crack.

A cube of neodymium that was as wide as a bus is long appeared in the air above Morgiana.

Hussain and I went silent, as did Bezabeh. This was it. The duel was over.

We assumed it was over, because Morgiana was lying on the ground, seemingly unable to do anything but wait for the cube of Damocles to fall.

Then we noticed something felt off.

Adil’s breathing was ragged and quick.

His eyes went from wide to squinting.

He put a hand on his head and his legs shook more.

The goth’s whole body was swaying like he was on the deck of a ship on stormy seas.

Adil dropped to his hands and knees. He began to vomit.

Morgiana exhaled, a tiny grin on her face, even as the cube fell towards her.

One last carbon cloud caught the cube and carried it away from Morgiana before dropping it.

“What did you do?” Adil said as stomach acid dribbled out of his mouth.

“I mixed my carbon with the oxygen in the air to create carbon monoxide, then I funneled the poison into your mouth and nose. Since it’s colorless and odorless, you couldn’t see it coming.”

“Why didn't you try that from the beginning?” Adil was struggling to speak due to how short of breath he was.

“Poisons are one of the most common weapons used by Alchemists, and so many Alchemists create countermeasures for poison. Your helmet, considering you’re wealthy enough to have so many cybernetic enhancements, had to have some special functions built in. I assumed it could detect and filter out poisons, and waited until I destroyed it to try and poison you.”

“I could have had cybernetic enhancements in my body that made me able to detect and be immune to poisons. How’d you know that wasn’t the case?”

“I didn’t. This was a gamble. Why didn’t you get any enhancements like that by the way?”

“My parents told me that the number of cybernetic enhancements I was getting was costing too much money. After a while, they said that if I wanted any new capabilities, I’d need to get gear that would grant me them since it would be cheaper than bodily alterations.”

“Lucky me.” Morgiana’s grin disappeared. “You should surrender. If I don’t remove the poison soon, you’ll have permanent brain damage. Regeneration pills won’t fix that.”

Adil was quiet for a few seconds. He closed his eyes.

“I give up.”

The referee nodded and gestured towards Morgiana.

“The winner is Morgiana!”

Hussain and I hugged each other as hard as we could. We cried out as we jumped up and down.

Bezabeh was by the gate, weeping. He fell to his knees, hands on his cheeks as he looked around at everyone booing Morgiana’s, and by extension my, victory. Morgiana had really won, and that meant Bezabeh was free.

A smile slowly, carefully made its appearance on Bezabeh’s face.

“Scheherazade cheated!” A voice confidently drowned out all others that reduced themselves to whispers or silence.

Hussain and I stopped our celebrating.

Bezabeh’s smile died.

Yara, the judge for the Blessed Bet, made her way up the pile of rubble that was once the battlefield, stopping when she reached its peak. Running to her side was the referee for the duel, who looked as confused as everyone else in the arena.

“Scheherazade interfered with the duel!” Yara pointed her cane at Adil. “Scheherazade can control oxygen, and she used that ability to oxidize the iron in Adil’s cybernetics, making them rusty and thus weaker!”

Adil, who was sitting on the ground, now cured of his poisoning by Morgiana, opened some panels on his arms, revealing their rusted insides.

People in the crowd began to talk with each other more loudly, and many especially vicious looks were directed my way. I didn’t know how the limbs rusted, but I wasn’t the culprit.

Hussain showed no signs of believing Yara’s claim. Morgiana only looked confused. Bezabeh stared blankly at the floor.

“I can control iron, so I was able to sense the change in Adil’s cybernetics! As he was being weakened by someone other than Morgiana, that counts as outside interference. Thus Morgiana loses the duel, and Scheherazade loses the Blessed Bet!”

My arm raised and I waved it around as I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“I think Scheherazade wishes to defend herself,” the referee said. “Come down here! We’ll set up some screens everyone can see that’ll display what you text!”

Lifting myself up with oxygen and hydrogen, I flew down to the hill and the referee synced my brain implant with a series of holographic screens that appeared all throughout the arena. They would display what I wanted to say.

“Hello, everyone,” I texted. “I’ll cut to the chase. Ms. Yara, I can control oxygen, but do you have evidence that I was the one who rusted Adil’s cybernetics?”

“You have the motive to do so. It would guarantee you’d win the match. That is all the evidence that’s necessary.” Yara looked down her nose at me.

“But why would I do something so obvious?” I put a hand on my hip and tilted my head to the side. “Adil would eventually notice all his cybernetics rusted. Also, just because I have a theoretical motive to do so doesn’t mean I did it. Do you have any hard evidence that proves I’m the culprit?”

“It’s in your character to cheat and act dishonorably, for you are Shahryar and Parizade’s daughter.”

“I’m not like my parents, and that isn’t hard evidence.”

“It’s all the evidence I need as judge.” Yara’s lip curled. She was supposed to be impartial, but it was impossible to actually find anyone who didn’t have a bias when it came to me.

The crowd began to jeer and make threats towards me. They were one hundred percent buying what Yara was selling, mostly because they despised me. I was guilty until proven innocent.

If I didn’t provide hard evidence that I didn’t rust Adil’s cybernetics, then Bezabeh was going to stay a slave and I was going to take a lot of punches to the face. The problem was that Yara’s accusation was based on arbitrary logic, so finding solid counter-evidence was a challenge.

One avenue would be to try and figure out who the real culprit was, but I had no way of knowing that. Who would try to help me win?

Perhaps they weren’t trying to help me win.

It was possible they were trying to make it look like I cheated. If that were the case, then I only needed to narrow down who would want me to lose the bet.

But I couldn’t actually narrow things down since most of the people in attendance wanted me to lose.

As for who was capable of pulling this off, it could be anyone who could control oxygen or iron.

Except not really.

I remembered a detail that proved I couldn’t be the culprit.

“Adil, when Morgiana initially confronted you, it was because you were chastising Bezabeh,” I texted.

“So what?” Adil recoiled a little bit.

“You were chastising Bezabeh for not preparing a lunch for you, and because he forgot to polish your arms.”

“Yeah.”

“When you brought the arms thing, you said something about the importance of maintaining them in spite of a certain fact.”

“In spite of a certain fact?”

“Remember. You said that even though your arms had a certain quality, they still needed to be maintained.”

“A certain quality…ah, it was that they can’t-” Adil stopped himself. He looked like a deer in headlights.

“It was that they can’t rust. You had the iron in your cybernetics altered by an Alchemist so that they’d be unable to oxidize. That means I couldn’t use my oxygen control to make your cybernetics rust. The only person who could rust them would be an iron Alchemist to change the properties of your iron to not only be able to oxidize again, but oxidize rapidly. I can’t control iron, and so I can’t be the culprit behind the rusting.”

The crowd’s murmurs became less malicious and more focused on their confusion as to what was really happening.

“Wait, my arms aren’t rust proof!” Adil rose to his feet. “I never said they were!”

“Yes you did.” Morgiana said as she was still lying on the ground. “I remember you saying that. Scheherazade reminded me.”

“You’re both lying. There’s no proof that Adil’s arms were originally rust proof.” Yara scoffed.

“Oh! Hey! Hey! Over here! Me! I have an idea! Lookie here!” Hussain was jumping up and down and waving his arms.

“It looks like he has something to say.” The referee scratched his head.

“He isn’t involved in this.” Yara scowled.

“I think we should hear him out. He might possess relevant information.”

“Fine.” Yara scowled harder. “Get down here!”

“Thank you!” Hussain jumped out of the stands and jumped onto a golden motorcycle he created. Driving through the air, he arrived at the hill.

“What do you have to say?”

“I was just thinking that Adil could contact the manufacturers of his cybernetics and ask them if they have records of whether his tech was made rust proof or not. We won’t tell them the situation we’re in or who’s involved besides Adil himself, so they won’t have any bias that would make them lie. They’ll just be answering a client’s question for all they know.” Hussain gesticulated wildly as he explained his plan.

Adil grit his teeth.

“That would be an enormous waste of time,” Yara said. “They might not even have records of what they did.”

“I think it’s worth a try. It could really clear things up.” The referee stroked his beard.

“I don’t have the numbers of the different manufacturers.” Adil was sweating.

“Then we can call your parents. They should have the manufacturers' contact information since they bought the cybernetics for you.”

Adil was quiet. He looked to Yara who glared at him.

“I…” Adil inhaled quickly. “I lied. My arms were rust proof.”

Yara gnashed her teeth.

I crossed my arms.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if you couldn’t have rusted Adil’s cybernetics yourself, you could have hired or coerced or even forced an iron Alchemist to rust them for you.” Yara jabbed the tip of her cane towards me multiple times.

“You’re throwing out ideas with no evidence now.” I walked up to Adil. “Why did you lie? Why would you try to hide that an oxygen Alchemist couldn’t have rusted your limbs?”

“You best not think you can threaten Adil into saying what you want.” Yara forced her way between Adil and I.

“I didn’t threaten him.”

“Not with words, but you were clearly trying to intimidate Adil with your movements and expression.”

“Whatever. I still want Adil to answer my questions.”

“Is that any way to speak to your elders? Did losing your ability to speak cause you to forget how to be polite when talking to-”

“Adil, answer my questions.” I looked around Yara to Adil.

“You really are as boorish as your parents! How-”

“I lied to incriminate Scheherazade.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing.

Adil had admitted something.

“What was that?” I texted.

“Adil, I think you may have misspoken.” Yara was glaring at the goth again.

“When Yara was decided as the judge, I secretly spoke with her in private and we struck a deal.” Adil’s body was stiff, his eyes closed. “If I lost against Morgiana, Yara would rust my cybernetics and we’d claim Scheherazade did it. That way, Scheherazade would automatically lose the bet and Morgiana would lose the duel. In exchange, I’d pay Yara for her help, and she’d get first dibs on punching Scheherazade when she was forced to honor the bet.”

“This is all nonsense! He’s only saying this because he’s afraid of what Scheherazade will do to him!” Yara waved her cane around.

The crowd was in an uproar, some people being pissed off they had been tricked by Adil and Yara, others angry at me for ‘threatening Adil into lying’, and the rest were unsure of what to think.

“Adil, is there any further evidence you could provide to back up your confession?” The referee put a hand on the goth’s shoulder.

“Since Yara asked to be paid before the duel, there should be a record of my parents transfering money into her bank account. Given my parents know about the deal, they can corroborate my confession too.”

“Adil.” Yara looked ready to run the goth through with her cane.

“There’s no way we could keep it a secret forever. I’m just speeding up the inevitable.” Adil let himself fall backward, hitting the ground with his limbs splayed out.

“Well, Ms. Yara, if we contact Adil’s parents, will they be able to prove the boy’s confession to be true?” The referee put his hands in his pockets.

Yara was shaking, her every muscle flexing.

“That’s correct.”

“Well then.” The referee gestured towards Morgiana and I. “If the judge of a Blessed Bet tries to help one of the individuals involved in the bet, then that individual instantly loses the bet! As such, the winner of the Blessed Bet is Scheherazade!”

A chorus of boos, swears, and insults filled the room. Even if they believed Adil and Yara were in the wrong, they were still furious that I wasn't going to get punished.

The referee gave both Morgiana and Adil regeneration pills that healed them of their injuries.

Yara led Adil out of the arena through one of the gates, chastising him for spilling the truth so easily.

Morgiana headed for the other gate, but as she was halfway down the hill of debris, Hussain and I ran up to her.

“You did awesome! Those black clouds are so rad, and the way you kept fighting no matter how hard you got hit was, like, I don’t even know how to explain how cool it was! And, oh man, when you used your shattered arm to hit Adil, that was badass! You’re so strong! I kinda wanna spar with you! Could we spar sometime?” Hussain had sparkles in his eyes.

I just gave Morgiana a thumbs up since I was no longer connected to the hologram screens.

Morgiana stared at Hussain and I. She wasn’t trying to walk away, but she wasn’t engaging with us either.

“Thank you!” All three of us turned to see Bezabeh running up the hill. He was crying as he took Morgiana’s hands in his. “Thank you! I’m free thanks to you! I’m free! I’m free! Thank you! I had given up, but you freed me! I can never do enough to repay you!”

“Repay me by enjoying your new life to the fullest.” Morgiana smiled with a warmth that I had never seen her display before.

“I will!” Bezabeh hiccuped. “When I saw you being hurt for my sake, I was horrified. Why did you fight so hard to free me? I’m only one slave.”

“Because you were in front of me. I could help you, so I helped you. Plus, I hate when people try to force their will on others.” Morgiana’s smile became more strained. “My relatives want me to become the next head of the family, and to become the head of our dojo, but I don’t want to. They constantly try to push or even force me to become what they want me to be. My pain obviously doesn’t compare to yours, but I understand what it’s like to have people try to control you. That’s why I can’t stand stupid rules, or institutions like slavery.”

“Whatever the reason, I thank you again.” Bezabeh let go of Morgiana and rushed over to Hussain and I. “Thank you both, as well! I wouldn’t be free without all three of you!”

“You’re welcome!” Hussain said as he and I both gave a thumbs up. “When will you be moving out of Adil’s place? Did you and him already figure out the details of your leaving, and the stuff with his family paying for your living expenses?”

“The details weren’t ironed out, because Adil was sure he was going to win. I’ll talk to him about that later, when he’s hopefully in a better mood.”

“Let us give you our numbers in case Adil or his family try to hurt you out of anger or spite.”

“Thank you.”

Hussain, Morgiana, and I exchanged numbers with Bezabeh, and he left the arena while waving at us, a grin on his face.

“Scheherazade.” Morgiana wasn’t smiling anymore, but she had the same look in her eye that she had when she was. “You put yourself at great risk to help me save Bezabeh. I don’t know if you did it because you actually wanted to help Bezabeh, or if you wanted to win me over by helping me. Either way, you helped me do a good thing. I wish we could make Blessed Bets with more slave owners to free their slaves, but I doubt that any would be willing to after seeing how it blew up in Adil’s face. This is definitely going to be all over social media.”

We had saved Bezabeh, but he was one slave among millions. There was no way to feasibly so many one at a time. Greater societal change was necessary.

“When we first met, you said you wanted to speak to me.” Morgiana crossed her arms. “Since you two helped me free Bezabeh, as thanks I’ll hang out with you every once in a while.”

“Really!” Hussain bounced on his tippy toes.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be friends or whatever.”

“Yahoo!” Hussain began dancing like a maniac.

I have to admit that I was too.

Morgiana was watching and probably rethinking her offer to spend time with us.