My Measurement: The Villain Desires a Satisfying Payback

August 1st.

"WOAAAAAAHHH...!!"

Clang-!!

Clang-!!

"Argh...!"

The sound of yelling, metal on metal, and a pained scream, followed quickly by an ear-splitting round of applause from the spectators that rumbled the earth with their cheering.

Moving from the ears to the nose, one would smell a strong stench of sweat, combined with a faint hint of iron―blood―that crowded the already stuffy air so intensely that one could taste it.

This was the renowned Aurigan Arena.

Famous for a variety of reasons, but the biggest would have to be the 'Aurigan Fighting Festival of Might'.

Commonly called either the 'Festival of Might' or just 'Fighting Festival', it was an annual celebration where a number of brawl-type competitions would take place from the 1st of August until the 15th, for about two weeks.

This festival's primary attraction was the 'Auriga Fighter's Championship', a tournament-style contest of continuous one-on-on fights in which the overall winner is crowned 'King Conqueror' for a year until the next festival's winner is decided.

Each fight that takes place during this time will undoubtedly result in one person being sent under medical care, but for a place like this, that was a regular occurance.

Auriga was a different country than where I lived, after all, and so it had different societal values.

One of those core values is strength.

If you weren't strong, you'd be mocked and be at both a great social and political disadvantage.

The danger usually wasn't too big of a deal in these duels because the type of people that take part in these competitions recover from such injuries quickly.

But, of course, accidents will happen anyway.

Today was the first day of the festival, and as such, the city was buzzing.

All the guy who challenged me said was 'Fight me. August 1st. Aurigan Arena.' Now, this could mean literally any kind of competition that took place on the first day, so I was a bit confused, but after asking Measurement of Truth what his intention was, it became crystal clear.

He wanted to fight me during the biggest event, the Fighter's Championship.

This was, of course, to maximise the humiliation I would receive upon being defeated, but there was a flaw in his plan. Scratch that, multiple flaws.

Firstly, this Fighter's Championship lasted for the entire course of the Fighting Festival, so it was a competition spanning two whole weeks.

Why would he expect me to give him two weeks of my time? Anyway.

Secondly, every competitor is required to sign up on the first day, otherwise the chances of being able to participate in the tourney turn close to zilch.

Thirdly, that guy definitely wanted to beat me in the finals, but there was a chance, albeit slim, that we would be paired up before then.

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These were the only concerns for the moment, but then again, they weren't major.

I've already signed up earlier today, so that wasn't an issue.

The two weeks weren't a problem either, as it's not like I don't have the time.

Finally―since the tournament matchups aren't made public until the day of the fight, I can just 'convince' the managers to change them if we end up being paired against each other before the finals.

How theatrical.

I'm not going to stop at that, though.

No, now that I'm going to be taking part, I'll be making it as worthwhile as I can.

"Now, girls, the rumours of the next round's contestants have spread around enough, so go do what I taught you earlier. When you're done, make sure you start the stream just before my fight. Remember, if you do well, I'll buy both of you whatever you want."

Sending the twins off to the spectator area, I watched over them from afar to see how they got on with it.

"Um..."

"...Excuse me..."

"Misters..."

Approaching a pair of wealthy-looking men in the middle of conversing, they both turned to the two young girls who suddenly started talking to them.

"Oh, hello there."

"How can we help two lovely little ladies like yourselves?"

The jingle of coins in their pockets that could be heard as the tubby men swayed slightly with every breath was practically music to the ears.

Such men were obviously not here with the purpose of participating in a brawling contest.

――Prime targets.

"Umm... We were told to tell the 'allies'..."

"...There is leaked information about the upcoming fights..."

The men's eyes shot wide open in shocked amusement.

"Bahaha! So, that's what this is, eh?"

"A new method of delivering fresh intelligence whilst undercover..."

"Well, what is it?"

They seemed incredibly interested but with zero consideration that it could be a trap.

Because, after all, how could two cute and innocent-looking girls like this be up to anything devious?

Of course, there was also the fact I told the girls to use certain words to gain their trust, but still.

Idiots.

"Um, contestant 'Green Blade' in match #13 has been confirmed to be violently ill and won't be able to perform at 35% during today's match..."

"...Also, in match #16, contestant 'Mullrazor' has attained his final level of martial enlightenment just recently, so the winning chance is expected to be at least 95%..."

Eyes visibly gleaming with greed at the information being leaked to them, the men noted everything down, and before they knew it, the girls were gone.

Needless to say, they had already gone to find some more suckers who would listen to their "information" about today's fighting participants.

Everyone they spoke to would lap up the information fed to them like starving dogs, and none any the wiser that it was all fabricated.

The purpose of spreading fake information about the conditions or fighting power of the contestants was, of course, for betting advantages.

You see, these fighting tournaments are no different from sports events, after all, so of course there would be heaps of people rushing to bet on the contestant they think is going to win, be that through logic and statistics or otherwise.

By giving them false info on the contestants and made-up statistics like 'winning percentages' to make them all think a certain contender is more likely to win, we can effectively skew all the bets to one of the two fighters.

Naturally, the contestants I am making everyone think will win, are in reality being poisoned by me in advance so that they are guaranteed to lose.

Then, when I am the only person betting on the real winner, I'll make a fortune.

Waiting casually for these matches to begin and end, I couldn't even imagine the overall profits I'll have made by the end of the festival.

Screw 3:2, the odds I'm aiming for are in the ranges of 10:1, 40:1, even 150:1.

Since with each bet I'll be placing I'm going full in with $2,000,000, even the smallest bet will gain me a net positive of roughly $20,000,000.

For the big fights with a lot of high-value betters, we're looking at upwards of $350,000,000 profit per fight.

――That's just how much money is flowing around in this multi-billion dollar market, and I plan to take full advantage of it.

[Next up, with his origins unknown, contestant 'Sage' takes the stand!]

Oh, looks like it's my turn.

As I walked slowly into the vast arena battleground, I felt the stares of thousands of spectators stabbing into me.

Since I was a newcomer who hid his name and face, they probably thought I was an utter coward who didn't belong here in the slightest.

Conversely, my opponent was―

[And versing him, it's the one I'm sure everyone's been waiting for! He's big! He's strong! Every doorway hates him! It's Goliaaaaath-!!]

My eardrums almost burst at the cheering support of the crowd that ensued, literally rumbling the ground and sending me into headache-induced nausea.

...God, these people are insufferable.

―But, they're making me a hell of a lot of money, so I'll spare them for now.

Incidentally, it wasn't hard to turn the odds against my favour in this fight, but that was why I had to especially guarantee my win.

[Now, let the match― BEGIN--!]

The instant the referee announced so, the big dude in front of me called 'Goliath' rushed towards me.

He was... rather slow, but considering his size, I suppose it's to be expected.

However―

"Wha--?! You lil rat, come 'ere-!"

―When I ducked my head slightly and twisted my body to slide between his legs, there was nothing he could do.

I pulled a syringe from my pocket filled with some kind of liquid and stabbed a thick artery on his inner thigh before immediately injecting him.

"The hell're you doin', huh?!"

He must have not felt much more than a slight prick, but the deed was swiftly done.

I narrowly dodged his trunk-like arms waving through the air with force equalling a speeding truck, but I didn't have to wait even 30 seconds before he began to feel the effects of the drug I had given him.

Pentobarbital.

―It was an extremely fast-acting barbiturate, a form of depressant used most commonly as a type of powerful sedative, but also used in lethal injections and euthanasia solutions.

Of course, in high doses, it was more than enough by itself to cause death.

CRASH-!!

Goliath's body impacted the floor like a meteorite, leaving a crater just like one too.

"Hah," I snorted to myself, seeing the hundred-thousand spectator arena that was bathed in absolute silence at not understanding what just happened.

It was so sudden, so I get why they're acting like it.

Upon closer examination of Goliath's body, it was evident the guy had stopped breathing at some point―he had entered respiratory arrest.

[Gol-- The Goliath is out! I repeat, the Goliath is out! Newcomer 'Sage' is the winner!]

Nodding at my quick victory, I was most looking forward to the money that would soon be coming in, but from the corner of my eye I caught the twins, Sana and Sona, up in the crowd with a camera.

Needless to say, I wore my classic white smiley mask during the fight as it wasn't quite the right time to reveal myself yet.

With a bright smile, I gave the girls an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Good job, you two!

Broadcasting the strength I would be showcasing at this Festival of Might was a simple plan I had to increase my number of supporters, and this was only the beginning.

As I made my way off-stage, I noticed a team of medical personnel struggling to load Goliath onto a specially-made stretcher that appeared to be his personal one.

Did they realise just how critical a condition he was in and try to rush him out of there as soon as possible? Well, it was a futile effort that wouldn't change anything, though.

After all, I don't make mistakes.