The crowd was going wild. Knights were chanting Luci's name now—"Luci! Luci! Luci!"—as Brian, dizzy and sweating, tried to stay seated. His hands trembled as he reached for another mug, but he stopped halfway, giving Luci a sideways glance filled with defeat.
"I… I yield," Brian muttered, his voice slurred.
Luci, completely unfazed, leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "I thought knights had better tolerance."
Christian, still stumbling from the booze, staggered to his feet and yelled, "AND THE WINNER ISSSS… THE DEMONNNN WITH THE IRON GUT… MASTER LUUUUUUUUCI!!!"
The knights roared.
Luci raised his hand, then suddenly grabbed another roasted chicken leg from the table and took a big bite, like it was his trophy. "Victory tastes like poultry," he said.
Daniel, who had been watching with stars in his eyes, clapped wildly. "You're amazing, Master Luci! I've never seen anything like that! You're like a god of gluttony!"
Brianna snorted, "More like a god of madness… but sure."
