In the Red Mist Bar.
"Huh? Boss Snake, why are his odds so high? And there's no betting cap yet? Aren't you afraid of losing big?"
The custors glanced at the Death Sentence Betting on the local channel and frowned. The so-called favorite had odds of 1.65, which seed unusually high. Usually, a popular pick's odds would plumt to 1.0001 or even lower, with strict caps and per-person limits.
Boss Snake didn't hand out money for free. Anyone who skimd the profiles of the death row inmates could usually predict who was most likely to die in each round of the Blood Moon Tribunal.
The popular betting pools were usually the unpredictable ones, like the gap between the highest and lowest vote counts, whether the top vote count would surpass 150,000 within fifteen minutes, or whether a prisoner brawl would erupt within five minutes. These were the bets where fortunes could be made or lost in an instant.
Leaning against the bar, Boss Snake licked his tongue and hissed, "Yeah, I'll lose badly. If all of you bet on him, I'm in real trouble, hiss."
A custor laughed. "Hey, I'm not here to make money off Boss Snake. I'm here to lose for fun. I insist on betting on the one with the lowest odds and a betting limit."
Lawrence studied the betting interface projected on the light screen and was tempted to place a few bets himself. He had spent over a year in Shattered Lake Prison and hadn't gambled in a long ti.
Technically, anyone could open a local betting pool with almost no restrictions, but there was one rule. The bookmaker had to deposit a large advance fund in Caimon Comrcial Bank. Without it, the bank wouldn't handle settlents. It was also a safeguard against bookmakers' defaulting after catastrophic losses.
After scanning the Highest Vote Count Odds for the eight death row inmates, Lawrence quickly identified the likely "redeed" candidate for this season's Blood Moon Tribunal.
Normally, the one with the lowest odds was the favorite that could be judged just from the available information. The lower the odds, the more certain everyone was that he would die. But this ti, sothing felt different.
Lawrence smiled. "Interesting..."
He then went on and maxed out his bet on the candidate with the lowest odds.
***
Ashe finally understood why Harvey could be so sure that tonight's so-called randomness would most likely "randomly" land on him. The so-called random choice turned out to be audience voting.
The death row inmate with the most votes would receive the grand prize, which was a trip to heaven sent personally by the executioner.
As for the reason Ashe was dood the mont it beca audience voting? It's because he had been the hottest news topic over the past few days.
He was the cover figure of the news, and this month's popular contender for the tribunal.
The news over the past few days had been about how Ashe Heath founded his cult and rose to power through it. They were explained in clear and engaging detail. Even Ashe himself read them with great interest. It went without saying that the general audience had gotten very familiar with him by now.
And now, the voting count here was the perfect definition of audience appeal. Since you looked so familiar, you it was.
Ashe watched his vote count surge, and the crimson executioner before him grew larger and more grotesque, nearly swallowing the platform. He was forced further toward the edge until both heels dangled in midair. Every cell in his body scread at him to run.
Just as Ashe was about to break, a sudden shriek rang out beside him.
"Ahhhhhh!"
The ogre prisoner next to him acted as though he had been seared by red-hot iron and wailed like a little girl. He had only brushed against the pale blue flas surrounding the small executioner, yet he shuddered violently, retreated to the platform's edge, and clutched the steel wire with both hands. He looked pitiful, weak, and utterly helpless.
One by one, the other prisoners cried out. Their screams were raw, agonized, and terrifying. There were no visible wounds, but from the way they reacted, it seed as if they had just experienced having their fingernails torn out and driven back into their flesh.
One goblin prisoner even took advantage of his small fra and risked stepping onto the steel wire to avoid the flas. He would rather risk falling into the sea than stand anywhere near the executioners.
Ashe had always known they were death row inmates, but the chips had previously restricted their true nature. Until now, he had never seen them for who they truly were and had never fully processed them as such. Could it really be this excruciating?
Seeing their tornt now, Ashe felt a faint, unbidden sense of superiority. Oh my, listen to you scream. Terrifying, death row inmates. Look at . I don't feel a thing.
A prisoner suffering under the purging fla clenched his lips so hard they began to bleed. He roared in fury. "Violation... violation! This is a violation of human rights! No one is supposed to be hard during the voting phase of the Blood Moon Tribunal!"
"You are torturing us, trampling our dignity, and taking pleasure in seeing us suffer!"
"The human rights groups and city council mbers are also watching the Blood Moon Tribunal, right? Report them! Stop this now!"
"That's right! Aren't we supposed to be safe during the voting phase? Shattered Lake Prison is violating the rules of the Blood Moon Tribunal!"
"Stop the judgnt! Stop it now!"
Ashe found it strange. From what he had heard, most Blood Moon Tribunals ended with a single death. The other seven usually returned to prison unhard.
In fact, most prisoners Ashe had t were survivors of previous Blood Moon Tribunals. So had even participated multiple tis and skirted the line of death again and again.
On top of that, the Blood Moon Kingdom placed great importance on racial and human rights, at least on the surface. Punishnts designed to cause suffering or to use tornt as a thod were supposedly forbidden. Even interrogations had been replaced with what they called mory extraction.
From arrest to imprisonnt, criminals were never subjected to physical torture. They could choose either to speak or remain silent, and the kingdom would not violate their human rights. Of course, whether mory extraction counted as a violation was another matter entirely.
Hence, the death row inmates' accusations against Shattered Lake Prison did have so legal basis. Their current treatnt was plainly torture. It violated the supposed redemptive spirit of the Blood Moon Tribunal, insulted the Blood Moon Lord, and undermined the principle that all lives were equal.
Nagu shook his head. "No, that is not the case. The council, human rights organizations, and various racial advocacy groups have approved the rules for this season's Blood Moon Tribunal. There are no inhumane arrangents. You may look like you're in danger, but as long as you stay where you are and do nothing, you will not suffer any harm."
"Ah! Ah!"
At that mont, the executioner assigned to the orc death row inmate grew slightly larger. A wisp of the purging fla brushed the orc's skin, and the massive, iron-built brute scread like a little girl.
The prisoners trembled with rage. "Is this what you call no harm!? You... you ogre-mixed goblin bastard, born trash like those green-skinned pigs with boar tusks. All you know is spewing filth!"
"You lowbred piece of garbage raised on scraps in a slum orphanage!"
"You runt screwed by goblin male prostitutes!"
It was then that the death row inmates realized all restraints had been lifted. Freed from the restraints of racial etiquette and polite language, their "combat power" surged. They poured out at once every insult they had choked back over the years. Each sentence carried layers of regional discrimination, racial slurs, and gendered mockery, enough to make Ashe watch with a strange mix of horror and awe, until Harvey suddenly shouted nearby, "An idiot who worships the Four Pillars Deities!"
Ashe turned to Harvey. He didn't worship the Four Pillars Deities, but sohow the insult stung. He shouted back, "A stinking Necromancy Class sorcerer who sleeps hugging corpses!"
Harvey glared at him. Ashe glared right back. Then Harvey lowered his voice and asked, "How did you know that?"
The executioner did not push Ashe into the sea, but that single sentence nearly sent him stumbling backward and falling off the platform.
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