From Trash to Lord of Thunder: The Rise of the Cursed Extra-Chapter 56: The Odds

Lira tried waking Rian gently, leaning over the chair where he’d dozed off.

"Rian," she called, her voice low, almost a whisper.

No response.

His eyelids didn’t even twitch, his breathing slow and deep.

Lira frowned, crossing her arms.

"Rian, come on, wake up," she said, louder now, with a hint of impatience.

Charles’s eyes snapped open, disoriented.

He blinked rapidly, trying to get his bearings.

Lira’s room, filled with the aroma of fresh food, greeted him.

His gaze landed on the table, set with a steaming plate of pasta with meat and a slice of chocolate cake.

His stomach growled instantly, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Man, that smells amazing," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Not bad, Lira."

Lira rolled her eyes, but a small smile slipped through.

"Just eat," she said, gesturing to the table. "I don’t want you passing out in the arena because you skipped meals."

Charles dragged himself from the chair lazily, stretching his arms with a yawn.

"Yes, yes, boss," he muttered, shuffling to the table.

He plopped into a wooden chair, feeling a faint ache in his bandaged hands as he rested them on the surface.

Eyeing the plate, he couldn’t help wondering how Lira whipped it all up so fast.

"Where do you get all these ingredients?" he asked, tilting his head.

Lira, tidying utensils in the compact kitchen, glanced back.

"The cafeteria," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Masters get access to more than servants, Rian. You can request ingredients if you know who to ask."

Charles blinked, feeling a bit dumb.

Shaking his head, he switched topics, pointing to the plush chair in the corner.

"And that thing? Where’d you score it?"

Lira let out a short laugh, hand on her hip.

"Bought it at the clan market."

Charles’s eyebrows shot up.

"Clan market?" he repeated, leaning forward.

Lira looked at him, a mix of surprise and amusement, like she couldn’t fathom how Rian forgot something so basic.

Had his servant days fried his brain?

"There’s a market," she said, crossing her arms. "Stuff comes from outside. Furniture, weapons, weird trinkets... anything, if you’ve got the coin. You seriously forgot?"

Charles opened his mouth but stopped.

Though Lira was being nice now, he remembered their past arguments.

Sparking another misunderstanding or pissing her off wasn’t smart.

"Uh, guess I never noticed," he said, shrugging.

Lira shook her head, muttering something under her breath, and returned to the kitchen.

Charles focused on the food.

He grabbed a fork and tried the pasta.

The meat, mixed with the plantain sauce, was odd but delicious, with a sweet kick he didn’t expect.

"This is awesome," he said, mouth half-full. "Seriously, Lira, you could open a restaurant."

Lira laughed from the kitchen.

"Don’t overdo it," she said, opening the fridge. "Want something to drink? Got grape soda or lemon."

Charles looked up, recalling the last time Lira offered a drink.

"Grape," he said, grinning. "Lemon was good, but I’m up for something new."

Lira nodded, pulling out a purple soda bottle and pouring it into a glass.

She walked over and set it in front of him.

"Here," she said, heading back to the kitchen.

Charles took a sip, savoring the sweet, fizzy taste.

’This is the life,’ he thought, feeling, for a moment, like he could forget the duel, the clan, everything.

While eating, he remembered something crucial.

"Hey, Lira," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Got those papers I asked for? The ones about my opponents tonight."

Lira sighed, clearly annoyed.

"You’re a pain, you know that?" she grumbled, tossing a rag onto the kitchen table. "Wait here."

She walked to a desk in the corner, piled with books and scrolls.

Rummaging through, muttering to herself, she pulled out two crumpled sheets.

"Here," she said, returning and dropping them in front of him. "Don’t lose them."

Charles grinned, grabbing the papers.

"Thanks," he said, though he noticed Lira eyeing him curiously.

As he started reading, she leaned in too close, peering over his shoulder.

"Uh, Lira," he said, turning his head. "Can I get some space? Hard to read with you breathing down my neck."

Lira frowned but straightened.

"Touchy," she said, sarcastic. "Fine, I’ll leave you alone."

She walked back to the kitchen, starting to wash the utensils she’d used.

"But don’t ask me for anything else," she added without turning.

Charles smirked but didn’t reply.

He unfolded the papers and read.

The first opponent was a Master who controlled air, with skills like swift gusts and wind barriers.

The second wielded fire, with intense combustion techniques and long-range attacks.

’This won’t be easy,’ he thought, frowning.

Wanting more info, he turned to the system.

"System, calculate my odds of beating the first opponent," he whispered, making sure Lira didn’t hear.

A blue tab appeared in his vision:

[Analyzing...]

After a few seconds, the system replied:

[Odds of victory against the air opponent: high]

’High? That’s all you’re giving me!?’ Charles thought, irritated, before swallowing hard.

Still, it was a relief to know that fight wasn’t a lost cause.

He nodded, satisfied.

’Better than nothing,’ he thought, but he needed more.

"Now analyze the second," he murmured, keeping his voice low.

Before the system could respond, Lira turned from the kitchen.

"Who’re you talking to?" she asked, a mix of confusion and suspicion.

Her eyes locked onto him, and Charles’s stomach knotted.

"Uh? Nobody," he said, forcing a laugh. "Just... thinking out loud. Duel stuff, you know."

Lira stared, clearly unconvinced.

"Be careful," she said, returning to the dishes.

Charles exhaled in relief but knew he had to be more cautious.

He whispered again, "Quick, analyze the second opponent."

The blue tab reappeared:

[Odds of victory against the fire opponent: low]

Charles’s chest tightened.

’Low?’ he thought, pressing his lips together.

The idea of losing hit harder than expected.

He tried to keep his face neutral, not wanting Lira to notice his worry.

"System, why are the odds so low?" he whispered, frustrated.

The response was instant:

[System intelligence level insufficient for detailed analysis. Complete the update for greater accuracy.]

Charles groaned softly.

"Speaking of, how’s the update going?" he asked.

[Intelligence Update: 71%. Estimated time: 2 hours.]

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair.

’Too slow,’ he thought.

But there was nothing to do now.

He returned to the papers, trying to memorize his opponents’ details.

While reading, he grabbed a piece of the chocolate cake.

The flavor was rich, its texture melting in his mouth.

"This is unreal," he muttered, smiling.

For a moment, he let himself enjoy it, brainstorming strategies.

’Maybe I can use lightning to dodge the first guy’s wind attacks,’ he thought. ’And against the fire... maybe the system’s new skill will give me an edge.’

He wanted to ask the system about that skill, but a strange sensation stopped him.

His eyelids felt heavy, a sudden exhaustion washing over him.

’What the hell?’ he thought, frowning.

He’d napped in the chair earlier; he shouldn’t feel like this.

"Lira," he said, turning his head, but his voice came out weak.

Before he could say more, his body slumped.

THUD!

Charles hit the floor, knocking over the soda glass and scattering the papers across the room.

Lira, hearing the noise, stopped washing dishes and turned slowly.

Her eyes landed on Rian, unconscious amid cake crumbs and spilled soda.

She let out a long sigh, crossing her arms.

"Well... it worked," she muttered, a mix of satisfaction and guilt in her voice.