Chapter 90: Long-Nosed Maurice

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: Long-Nosed Maurice

Maurice threw his hands up, the very picture of shamelessness. "Well, can’t be helped then."

Just then, Hesia, who had been observing quietly from the side, spoke up. "The ’usual rules’... does that mean a drinking contest? May I join?"

Only then did Maurice notice the unfamiliar young man. "Yes, the loser pays. Who are you?"

Belte introduced him. "This is Galen, the new Mage in our party. He’s very powerful."

"A Mage?" Maurice froze for a second, then a flippant smile spread across his face. "Haha! Mages may be noble, but drinking capacity has nothing to do with Magic. There aren’t many rules to a drinking contest—we just drink until one person gives up or ends up under the table. But... I think we’d better not. I wouldn’t want word getting out that Maurice bullies a newcomer."

Laila and Belte said nothing. Clearly, they also thought Hesia didn’t look like someone who could hold his liquor.

Hesia, however, knew exactly what was happening.

’From the moment this guy walked in, his every action, his every word, has been about taking advantage of Belte’s pride to get a free ride.’

’This can’t be the first time he’s mooched drinks off Belte.’

’What’s more, from what Laila said, he also owes money that he hasn’t paid back.’

Hesia wanted to teach him a lesson.

’Belte might be treating, but wouldn’t it be better if his teammate didn’t have to spend any money?’

He smiled at Maurice. "If I win, tonight’s bill won’t be counted as part of the 80 Silver Scale you owe Laila, right?"

"Of course!"

Laila frowned. "Galen, you don’t have to do this. This guy is a notorious ’barrel’ in Rose Town. I’ll make him cough up the money he owes me sooner or later."

"It’s fine. Just think of it as some after-dinner entertainment. If I lose, I’ll pay the bill." Hesia’s tone was light. He then raised the stakes with Maurice. "But if I win, not only will you pay for this table’s drinks, but you’ll also have to pay back the money you owe Laila right here, right now. Do you dare to play?"

Maurice, who had absolute confidence in his drinking ability, roared with laughter at this. "Haha! Good kid, you’ve got guts! If you can really outdrink me, forget paying her back, I’ll even throw in another 20 Silver Scale for you! I’m just afraid you don’t have what it takes!"

Seeing Hesia’s firm attitude, Laila didn’t try to persuade him further. She just shot Maurice a cold glance, full of warning.

But Maurice pretended not to see it. All his earlier tension vanished, replaced by the excited look of a seasoned moocher.

Afraid that Hesia might back out, he craned his neck toward the bar and bellowed, "Jin Jia! You hear me? Bring the drinks! Haul out your strongest Fireplace Black Beer! And none of those cups—that stuff’s for sissies! Bring the whole keg! Today, this young Master Mage and I are going to have a deep discussion about the mysterious connection between Magic and alcohol!"

His shout almost drowned out the din of the tavern, immediately drawing the gazes of many onlookers.

A few Dwarves who had been playing a finger-guessing game also looked up curiously.

"Hey! Looks like some fun!" a big-bearded Dwarf said, wiping his foam-covered beard with a stubby finger.

"He looks soft, not even as tough as my beard," another Dwarf sneered. "I bet he can’t last more than three mugs of black beer!"

"I’ll bet two!"

The two clinked their mugs, clearly treating the spectacle as part of their evening’s entertainment.

After confirming that the Refined Gold Gastrointestinal Tract was equipped, Hesia maintained his calm smile and waited quietly.

Soon, the owner, Pachy, personally came over, carrying a small oak keg on his shoulder. He set it down by the table with a THUD.

"Fireplace Black Beer, five liters to a keg," Pachy said, wiping away sweat as he issued a warning. "Let me make this clear before you start: if you throw up and dirty my floor, the cleaning fee is extra."

Then he lowered his voice. "But... if you slip me something under the table, it can be a little less."

"Don’t you worry, Pachy. Even if I drank the entire Twilight River dry today, Maurice’s stomach wouldn’t so much as flinch!"

He picked up two large drinking horns and expertly filled them from the spigot on the side of the keg.

This black beer was famous for its high alcohol content and heavy, rich taste, a favorite among Dwarves and old drunkards.

The foam was a deep, caramel brown, and it gave off a pungent aroma—a mix of roasted malt and strong alcohol.

Maurice pushed one of the horns in front of Hesia.

"Come on, young Master Mage! To show my respect, I’ll let you go first!"

The surrounding patrons erupted in boisterous laughter.

"That bastard Maurice is picking on a newcomer again!"

"So what if he’s a Mage? Haha, in the Oak Tavern, it’s not about who has the stronger Magic!"

Belte leaned in, worried. "Brother, how about we call it off? When it comes to drinking against him, besides those Dwarves, there aren’t many in all of Rose Town who can win. It’s no shame to lose. I’ll pay!"

Laila, however, stood by with her arms crossed, watching coldly. "It’s good for him to learn a lesson. Maybe he won’t be so impulsive next time."

Hesia, however, merely responded to Belte’s warning with a smile.

He lifted the drinking horn, but instead of downing it in one go, he began to drink at a relatively steady, unhurried pace.

Under everyone’s gaze, Hesia smoothly finished the first horn, placing the empty vessel gently back on the table without a change in his expression.

He looked calmly at Maurice. "Your turn."

Although Hesia hadn’t drunk quickly, Maurice was genuinely surprised that the young man’s expression remained unchanged.

"A little interesting! Looks like I underestimated you!"

With that, he tilted his head back. GULP, GULP. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently as the large horn of black beer vanished into his mouth at an astonishing speed.

"HAAAH—!"

In less than ten seconds, the horn was empty.

Maurice slammed the empty horn down on the table, wiped his mouth, and looked at Hesia provocatively. He wasn’t red-faced or out of breath, a clear sign of his profound drinking prowess.

A few whistles and cheers rose from the crowd.

Belte, watching from the side, was both excited and worried. He pumped his fist. "Brother Galen! Go for it! Don’t let him intimidate you! It’s okay to drink slowly!"

Hesia said nothing. He simply refilled his horn to the brim and once again drank it at an unhurried pace.

Maurice’s expression changed slightly. Not to be outdone, he filled his horn and once again drained it at that same exaggerated speed.

Hesia steadily kept pace.

The second horn...

The third horn...

The fourth horn...

The level of black beer in the keg was dropping fast.

The two went back and forth, one horn after another, as if they weren’t drinking potent black beer, but plain water.

More and more patrons in the tavern were drawn in by this high-stakes drinking contest. They gradually formed a crowd, and the atmosphere grew increasingly lively.

Belte’s expression changed from worried to excited. He even jumped onto his chair. "Go! Brother Galen! Drink him under the table!"

Laila, too, had long since shed her cold expression, a rare smile gracing the corners of her lips.

However, when she caught a glimpse of Belte getting completely carried away, she was reminded of the wound on his neck and the whole farce that had started because of him. Her smile vanished, replaced by an annoyed rebuke.

"Get down from there, you idiot. Be careful you don’t aggravate your wound."