Chapter 87: Under Pressure, Maintain Elegance (8000)
Sleepless City, Thorns of Sin.
The Sound-Recording Magic Array played soothing background music as slender Bunny Girls weaved through the dazzling lights and decadent ambiance, eliciting cheers. The clinking of chips, the ice in cocktail glasses, and the sound of high heels on the floor all announced the beginning of a beautiful night in the Sleepless City.
Suddenly, at one moment, all the lights in the venue extinguished simultaneously, only to be relit moments later. In the next instant, a middle-aged man in a white robe entered the hall. A deathly silence fell upon the room, so quiet that even the sound of breathing was audible. The man had an ordinary face and wore pure white attire, resembling an unremarkable pastor or priest from a small rural church. All eyes were fixed on the man as he entered, or more precisely, on the纹理 (wen li – pattern/texture) on his white robe: a pure white Eye of Truth.
“It’s the ‘Spectator’.”
After a long silence, someone finally spoke, breaking the eerie stillness. The entire casino exploded into an uproar. Waiters, card dealers, gamblers—everyone was whispering to each other. Those who understood spoke with aplomb, while the onlookers relayed the information to others.
The “Spectators.” This was a collective term for a group of extraordinary individuals. Generally, extraordinary organizations or groups on the Western Continent had clear leanings, either towards the order side, like the Three Towers, or towards the abyss, lost kingdoms, and various cults. However, the “Spectators,” like the Shadow Council, were exceedingly rare, active in both the order camp and amongst the lost, yet tolerated by all sides. The Shadow Council relied on its immense power and intelligence services, sought by both factions. The “Spectators,” however, depended on their unique logic of operation.
They were truly just spectators.
When armies clashed on planes of roaring artillery…
On battlefields where high-level powerhouses fought to the death…
Or at the sites of major magical inventions, royal successions, and power transitions…
The “Spectators” could be seen at the nexus of almost every major event on the Western Continent.
The members of the “Spectators” did not adhere to a distinct Familiar system style like many other extraordinary forces; they were a motley crew, ranging from beginners at the First Ring to Titled Beast Tamers. Legend even had it that “Spectators” of the Legend rank appeared on the very day the Holy Calendar era began, and during the final battle that ended the Land of Calamity era. The only commonality among the “Spectators” was their white robes and the mark of the Eye of Truth on them. They could appear anywhere on the Western Continent, observing aspects such as the rise and fall of kingdoms, or perhaps merely the daily life of a commoner. Furthermore, the “Spectators” never interfered in any process, and even if caught in the crossfire and killed on the battlefield, they never retaliated. It was as if the “Spectators” were, as they claimed, merely witnesses and recorders of history.
In the Sleepless City known as Thorns of Sin, the arrival of a “Spectator” could only mean one thing: a legendary wager against the house was about to take place. In the Sleepless City, the minimum bet on ordinary tables was one Rhine gold coin. While not a large sum, the Rhine gold coin was actually the highest currency unit in the Western Continent’s monetary system; one coin was equivalent to the entire annual salary of an ordinary city resident. Below it were smaller units of copper and silver coins.
However, compared to the upcoming match, even this was insignificant. According to waiters with decades of experience in the Sleepless City, the house’s wagers were held every one to two months, but the last time a “Spectator” was invited to witness a wager was three years ago. The guest that time gambled their hereditary territory encompassing three towns and lost everything.
The middle-aged man with an ordinary face and clad in a simple white robe ascended to the highest floor of the Sleepless City, soon disappearing into a passage. The next moment, a metal barrier rose. The scene on the highest floor of the Sleepless City was projected onto the vision of all the gamblers in the casino. It was a simple gambling table. Viscount Lori sat on one side with an elegant smile, while a youth with half his face obscured by a white mask sat on the other. Both appeared calm. The middle-aged priest in the white robe stood in the center of the long table, calmly observing everything. He reached out and brushed over a silver-white Revolver and a box of golden cartridges on the table.
“Revolver—’Iron Moon’, pure metal construction, no magic array or spirit interference.” The priest took out bullet after bullet from the ammo box and loaded them one by one into the cylinder of the Revolver. “Six rounds, identical in quality and appearance, but only one is live ammunition, five are blanks.” The middle-aged priest looked at the cylinder that had popped out, his finger lightly tapping the air. “During the wager, extraordinary abilities are prohibited, prying is prohibited… The Eye of Truth bears witness.” Having finished, he placed the Revolver with its loaded cylinder on the gambling table. “According to the rules, the one who spins the cylinder moves last.”
Shaya reached out, picked up the Revolver, and extended his slender fingers to spin the cylinder. *Clink.* The cylinder, loaded with five blanks and one live round, spun rapidly. Shaya’s wrist moved, and the spinning cylinder made a crisp sound as it locked into the Revolver’s frame. Shaya could clearly sense that the moment the cylinder engaged with the barrel, the internal details of this gun disappeared from his mental perception. It was as if a thin veil of mist had fallen, and other than the plain exterior of the Revolver, all its internal information and details—whether it was the weight of the gun, the slight vibration from the spinning cylinder, etc.—were as if mosaicked, making them impossible to discern. This information mist was not very strong; only a slight exertion of mental power would be needed to pierce it. However, this would also alert the dispenser of the information mist to his actions, leading to an immediate loss.
This was the purpose of the “Spectators.” For extraordinary individuals with keen mental power and perception, there were countless ways to cheat during a wager. For example, a Familiar Master specialized in memory could easily distinguish subtle tactile differences on seemingly identical playing cards, while a Familiar Master specialized in perception might be able to judge which chamber held a bullet simply by weighing the Revolver due to uneven weight distribution. Of course, the “Spectator’s” information mist and prohibition of extraordinary abilities were limited solely to the Revolver itself, much like a dealer would ensure no one peeked or cheated during card dealing. However, all other extraordinary means were not restricted. Whether it was remembering and calculating cards through strong memory, or breaking an opponent’s psychological defenses with trash talk, these were all part of the game.
“I’ve always believed in respecting the old and cherishing the young.”
“So, the elder goes first.” Shaya pushed the closed Revolver across the table to the opposite side.
“Russian Roulette!”
Only then did shouts of surprise erupt from the onlookers below as they understood the true nature of this wager. Compared to Blackjack and Imperial Poker, the most popular games in the Imperial Capital, Russian Roulette was rarely used due to its excessively bloody and crude nature. However, this did not diminish its notoriety. Russian Roulette had no complex rules like the many variations of card games; it was straightforward and clear. Load one bullet into the Revolver’s cylinder, spin the cylinder, and both parties take turns shooting themselves until one party fails. As for the consequence of failure—there was only one. Even a Titled Beast Master, without actively invoking their Familiar’s power, would only face death if a bullet hit their head at close range. If extraordinary power was used to protect oneself, it would be a breach of contract. According to the rules of the Thorns of Sin, a contract breaker would lose everything, from all their worldly possessions to their very life. The sins hidden underground in the Sleepless City, those that could not see the light, were what Lori had acquired through this method.
And at this moment, the house that stood at the pinnacle of the Sleepless City was about to engage in Russian Roulette. Who was this mysterious player? And by what means had they forced Viscount Lori from his throne in the Sleepless City to such a predicament? The gamblers were all players and naturally leaned towards supporting the mysterious man with the half-mask. The waiters and waitresses remained impassive. Lori himself had won and lost at the gambling table. But to this day, the Sleepless City remained the Sleepless City, and Viscount Lori remained Viscount Lori.
In a corner of the casino, amidst the great clamor, Dark Raven frowned slightly as he looked at the figure of the white-robed priest on the highest floor.
“The ‘Ranger’, Soros.” The “Spectators” were a collective name for an extraordinary organization, but the Spectator who appeared was an individual. And the Spectator who had appeared in the Sleepless City was a person recorded by the Imperial Military, a Sixth Ring Beast Master with his own title. Excluding those whose records were unclear and lived in history, the Legend-rank “Spectators,” Ranger Soros was currently the pinnacle among the “Spectators.”
“I didn’t expect Soros to be in the Imperial Capital. If it were a Fourth or Fifth Ring Spectator, they might still be deceived by certain methods. But with Soros himself present, unless a Legend specializing in this field descended, it would be impossible to tamper with the wager process.” Dark Raven looked at the scene on the highest floor, his brow furrowed. “I’ve seen some files and know that Joker should specialize in illusions. But Lori is a ring higher than him, and he couldn’t possibly not have countermeasures against illusions.” If a mere illusion could succeed, Lori wouldn’t have been able to maintain his position as the owner of the Sleepless City.
“Diris, don’t you think our new leader is a bit too impulsive?” From Dark Raven’s perspective, the current Sword Holders were at a distinct disadvantage compared to the high-ranking nobles in the Imperial Capital, which was why they had been repeatedly annihilated. They should have endured and waited, just like the family motto of the “Dark Knight” Flentrop family: hide in the shadows, wait, accumulate strength, and await the opportune moment. Yet, as the newly appointed leader of the Sword Holders, Shaya had directly led them to the Thorns of Sin, even revealing his trump card of intelligence. While this intelligence had successfully forced Soros into a life-or-death wager, it also meant Shaya had pushed himself into a corner. He was the king of gamblers; what had Viscount Lori not experienced over decades at the gambling table, whether through cheating, trickery, or fair play? Placing his life on the line at the gambling table, and in the opponent’s strongest domain, Joker’s actions were undoubtedly suicidal in Dark Raven’s eyes.
“Although theoretically, everything you’ve said is correct.”
“However, is it truly effective to merely endure, to show weakness, and hide in the darkness?”
“Although I haven’t joined, as far as I know, the previous Sword Holders always adhered to the concept of hiding and developing, yet their endings never changed.” Diris, also wearing a half-mask and revealing only her fair and delicate chin, took a sip of the wine in her glass and spoke softly.
“Hiding in the dark, retracting all our claws, claiming to be enduring and developing…”
“But if this continues, when the time is truly ripe… accustomed to enduring, having forgotten how to wield a sword, will we still be able to bring down the ‘Sword of Damocles’?”
“His Royal Highness chose Shaya, who was then just a student who had just broken through to the Third Ring, instead of selecting from the many Fifth Ring or even Titled powerhouses from the old Round Table and his confidants. This must have been to bring about some change…”
“A change entirely different from all previous Sword Holders.”
“I can understand His Royal Highness’s intentions,” Dark Raven frowned. “But that’s no reason to attack the enemy at their strongest point and rush to their death with bravery but no thought.”
“I understand your concerns.” Diris looked at the scene on the highest floor with her pure eyes. “To be honest, I don’t think Joker’s illusions can succeed either.”
“However, the leader was personally chosen by His Royal Highness, and since I’ve known him… he has never disappointed me.”
“Perhaps this time, he’ll bring a pleasant surprise?” As she spoke, Diris glanced sideways at the blonde girl beside her. Although wearing the same style of half-mask, Aerora had never participated in their conversation. She sat quietly in a corner, her gaze fixed on Shaya on the gambling table on the highest floor.
Having entered Shaya’s dreams and often acting as an intruder, Diris knew the unspoken understanding between Aerora and Shaya. If Shaya were truly in mortal danger, Aerora would have already erupted, just as Lieutenant Colonel Sieg had experienced not long ago when Shaya had lost consciousness. The fact that the blonde girl was still waiting quietly now meant everything was still under control. Unbidden, Diris also felt a sense of anticipation for what was about to happen.
*Scratch—* The metal gun barrel of the Revolver made a harsh scraping sound against the wooden tabletop before stopping in front of Viscount Lori. With the demeanor of a gentleman, he picked up the Revolver. Viscount Lori paid no mind to Shaya’s earlier trash talk about respecting the old and cherishing the young. In the countless wagers he had experienced, words a thousand times more unpleasant than these were commonplace, yet he always maintained a lazy smile. In his eyes, they were merely the wails of the defeated. He was old, but he was still a lion at the gambling table. The Sleepless City was his territory, where he roamed day and night, watching countless gamblers grovel in fear after their losses, their pleas for mercy echoing in cries of despair.
The information mist on the Revolver still persisted, obscuring all information and details within the gun’s chamber. The arrival of Soros, a Sixth Ring “Spectator,” was unexpected for Viscount Lori, making cheating with the Revolver itself wishful thinking. But it didn’t matter. Viscount Lori was indeed knowledgeable about numerous cheating techniques, but he disdained using them, understanding them only to see through his opponents’ tricks. Relying on such contrivances wouldn’t have made him the king of this Sleepless City.
“A hundred souls.”
“Deal concluded.” A dark, deep voice echoed in Viscount Lori’s soul. The next moment, Viscount Lori pointed the Revolver named “Iron Moon” at his own chin. *Bang—* Smoke and fire shot from the muzzle, but no bullet emerged. A blank. This was an expected outcome. He was a Beast Master, but not skilled in combat. His current Fourth Ring rank was entirely due to a Familiar he had accidentally contracted with. Strictly speaking, “Familiar” wasn’t entirely accurate, as they had signed not a traditional master-subordinate contract, but a transaction agreement. It was a demon from the Spirit Abyss, and the transaction was simple, as all demons did—one party provided souls, and the demon granted them a temporary increase in luck.
With the transaction with the demon, Viscount Lori had won all the crucial wagers, and the Sleepless City had consumed countless lives through these bets. The sins that ran rampant beneath the Sleepless City were initially to satisfy the demon’s greedy appetite for souls. However, after Lori became Borgia’s white glove, he too became addicted to the thrill of sin and the power to control life and death. Lori put down the Revolver, his elegant smile unwavering. If it were a card game, like Blackjack, Viscount Lori might have been at a temporary disadvantage due to insufficient calculation and memory. After all, luck was important in card games, but unless luck was so strong that you always had the best hand, there was always the possibility of compensating for poor luck with strong skills.
Only Russian Roulette was the simplest and most brutal gamble. Under the “Spectator’s” information mist, it became a pure test of luck. If the live round landed in the odd-numbered chambers, one party won; if it landed in the even-numbered chambers, the other won. There was no room for skill interference. If there was any possibility of strategy in Russian Roulette, it was to psychologically intimidate the opponent into fearing shooting themselves, thus forcing them to concede. From this perspective, the first mover in Russian Roulette undoubtedly had a psychological advantage, which was why Lori calmly accepted the first move.
Lori looked at the mysterious man opposite him and slowly pushed the silver-white Revolver forward. In this game that purely tested luck, he who had traded luck with a demon was invincible. This mysterious man might have intended to minimize his advantage in gambling skill and experience by choosing the simple and brutal game of Russian Roulette, but he didn’t realize that his cleverness had actually ruined his last sliver of a chance to win. In this way, he could conveniently eliminate a potential threat… and after the opponent’s defeat, he could also take the opportunity to investigate the source of their intelligence and their identity. The information revealed by the opponent had set off alarm bells in his heart; until he clarified it, Viscount Lori could not rest easy.
With this thought, Viscount Lori saw the mysterious man wearing the white mask raise the Revolver as well. However, he wasn’t aiming at his chin, but at his temple.
“Persona.” Unintelligible syllables escaped the opponent’s lips, and then the trigger was pulled. *Bang—* Again, white smoke and fire, but no bullet shot out. Likewise, no giant Orpheus substitute appeared behind him. Below, the gamblers erupted in cheers. As players, they naturally relished the chaos and hoped the house, which had plundered so much of their wealth, would fall from its pedestal. For a moment, countless malicious gazes were fixed on Viscount Lori, anticipating his next fatal shot. And indeed, the bloody thrill of potential bloodshed was far more captivating and exciting than the mere clinking of cards and chips.
“Lucky.” Viscount Lori’s expression remained unchanged as he observed the scene before him. Purely from a probabilistic standpoint, Shaya’s shot had a 20% chance of hitting, and considering his transaction with the demon for increased luck, the probability of Shaya’s shot being live was even higher. This meant the opponent’s luck was also not bad; if he hadn’t made the deal with the demon, he might indeed have been the loser. However, Viscount Lori was not worried; this was a game of pure luck, and he was already in an invincible position. He maintained his elegant smile, waiting for the opponent to return the Revolver.
“Dark Raven, Nightingale.”
“I’ve read the files of past Sword Holders. Do you know what my biggest takeaway was after reading them?”
“Not enough combat power, lack of strict organizational discipline, insufficient security measures leading to leaks?”
“None of those.”
“These were merely reasons for isolated defeats, not excuses for twenty-seven losses.”
“In my opinion, the greatest failure of past Sword Holders was—”
“Inability to handle pressure.”
Along with the calm words of the black-haired youth came the sound of the trigger being pulled once more.
“And since I am now your leader, I must first teach you a few things.”
“Sword Holder Code, Article One…”
“Under pressure, maintain elegance.”
The next moment.
Viscount Lori’s pupils, along with all the onlookers below, widened abruptly. *Bang—* Fire and smoke billowed, yet the masked mystery man stood unharmed.
“What’s going on? Was the deal not concluded?”
“No, the deal was concluded, and your luck has increased as you wished, just like before.” In his soul, facing Lori’s questioning, the deep, dark voice merely replied.
With this thought, Lori’s mind calmed slightly. His transactions with demons were not a one-time occurrence; he knew their capabilities. Although such Spirit Abyss demons were greedy, even wicked, they would always abide by transactions and contracts. Below, the entire casino was silent. No one understood why Shaya had done this. Consecutive shots were permitted by the rules, but this was akin to taking on a risk for the opponent; only a fool would do this, or someone who knew the location of the bullet in the cylinder from the very beginning. However, there were no fools at the gambling table with Viscount Lori… And unless they were a Legend, no one could cheat in front of a Sixth Ring “Spectator.”
For a moment, countless gazes were fixed on Shaya’s slender back, with many speculating about his identity and pondering the meaning of his words. A Legend appearing in person to play Russian Roulette with a gambling overlord? Impossible. And what did his mention of “Sword Holders” mean? Yet, Shaya, the focus of so many stares, was completely unfazed in his actions. He simply raised the silver-white Revolver named “Iron Moon” once more.
“Past failures have eroded your sharpness and caused you to lose yourselves.”
“You positioned yourselves as the weaker party, choosing to hide and retreat, barely surviving in the cracks of the targeting and oppression from those high-ranking nobles, believing that mere survival for a moment was a victory.”
“But have you ever considered?”
“What is the true meaning of being a ‘Sword Holder’?”
In the eerie silence of the casino, Shaya once again aimed his gun at his own temple.
“We are the Sword of Damocles hanging in the sky.”
“Whether demi-god or Saint, upon entering the Empire’s borders, they must bow their heads under the edge of that hanging sword and abide by the Empire’s laws and order.”
“So, it is not we who should fear, hide, and cower in the shadows, but our opponents.”
“Sword Holder Code, Article Two—”
“Always remember who is the prey, and who is the hunter…”
“They are the prey, and we are the hunters.”
*Click—* The trigger was pulled. A thousandth of a second later. *Bang—* Fiery light flashed from the muzzle once again. But the scene of the mysterious man’s head being pierced and blood splattering did not occur as Viscount Lori had expected.
Viscount Lori’s elegant smile faltered. While he could explain the third shot as the gun firing a blank because it was meant for himself, the fourth shot missing truly made him panic.
“Is the transaction really not flawed?”
“Everything is normal.” Lori remained silent for a few seconds, then spoke abruptly.
“Raise the stakes. Five hundred souls.”
“Deal concluded.” The response was still deep and dark, but Lori felt slightly steadier. This round of the wager was too critical; he couldn’t afford to lose. Normally speaking, the positions of the live round and the blanks were fixed the moment the cylinder stopped spinning. However, under the obscuring information mist, even the Spectator himself could not know everything. Therefore, with no one observing the cylinder’s internal order, the disturbance of luck could still take effect. While seemingly illogical, this was a world where extraordinary and mysterious things existed, and this conclusion was reached after Lori had conducted many experiments.
Then— he, like the spectators who were holding their breath, watched silently as the mysterious black-haired man raised the Revolver once more. As if sensing the condensed gazes around him, the mysterious guest slightly turned his chair, his eyes sweeping over the crowd below. A faint, indifferent smile appeared on his lips, which were not covered by the mask.
“This world is darker than you imagine. Pure kindness and sainthood are meaningless here.”
“So, sometimes, you have to be crazier, more malicious, and more cunning than those insidious, deceitful, and insane villains to do what you believe you should do.”
“But—”
“Although it is distant, ethereal, and sounds a bit unrealistic, even like drawing a pie in the sky, I actually like the ideal and future that His Royal Highness, Sieg, and you have depicted to me.”
“Because I also don’t want to live in a world where kindness is treated as a weakness.”
*Snap—* The hammer struck the primer of the bullet, making a crisp ringing sound. Amidst the rising flames and white mist, a calm and collected voice was heard.
“Sword Holder Code, Article Three.”
“To fight against evil, one can become crazier and more evil than the villains.”
“But during this time, remember your ideals and do not forget your original intentions.”
“I do not wish for our prey to become former comrades one day.”
The cylinder rotated sixty degrees. Thus, five of the six rounds in the cylinder had been fired. Only the last one remained. Shaya played with the Revolver in his hand for a moment, then gently pushed it forward. *Swish.* The Revolver slid across the table. Then, it stopped in front of Lori, whose face had turned ashen.
“Now then—”
“It’s your turn.”
(8000-word chapter. Originally intended to split into two chapters, one in the morning and one in the evening, but felt it would lead to an abrupt ending, so decided to combine them. Also, requesting monthly votes!)
