The God of Endless Revenge

4

Lucas moved through the dark backstreets of the capital, pulling his hood low against the freezing wind.

Every second was ticking down in his head. He had less than forty-eight hours before the Grand Velvet Auction opened its doors.

Attacking the auction house by force was suicide. Ancient barrier shields locked the entire pavilion down, and thirty elite guards watched every door.

The moment an alarm sounded, the slave wardens would put a knife through Lily's throat before Lucas could even cross the hall.

He had to play their twisted game. He needed five hundred thousand gold coins to buy her freedom in front of the whole world.

Standing on the roof of an empty warehouse, Lucas looked down at the glowing lights of the gambling district.

'System,' Lucas called out in his thoughts. 'Find me someone rich, corrupt, and tied to House Blackwood.'

[Eyes of Destiny Activated.]

A beam of red light cut through the rain, pointing straight toward a three-story casino glowing with red lanterns.

The Gold-Tide Den. It was the most ruthless gambling house in the lower district, and the richest place in the city to seize a fortune in a single night.

A glowing red script hovered in Lucas's vision, displaying the target's fate:

[Target: Baron Malakai.]

[Identity: Chief Loan Shark of House Blackwood.]

[Script: Launder 600,000 gold coins for Duke Damien tonight; receive promotion to City Treasurer.]

[Fate Value: 2,200.]

Lucas’s eyes narrowed into cold slits beneath his hood.

He had received desperate reports about Malakai while leading the vanguard at the border, but the constant demon invasions had kept him from dealing with the vulture.

This animal had spent years using forged debt papers to steal land and money from wounded soldiers who had bled for the empire.

"You bled my soldiers dry to fill Damien's pockets," Lucas muttered into the wind. "Tonight, every stolen coin buys my sister back."

Lucas dropped into the alleyway behind the building, shedding his outer cloak.

Underneath, he wore a stained worker tunic, his boots caked in thick street mud and his hair messily framing his face. He looked like an exhausted dock laborer coming to throw away his day's wage.

He pushed through the side entrance, walking straight past the noisy common betting pits and heading directly up the private back stairs.

Inside the VIP suite, thick velvet curtains shut out the roar of the floor below.

Sitting at a wide mahogany table was Baron Malakai, dressed in purple silks and wearing heavy gold rings on every finger.

Sitting across from him was a one-armed man in a faded vanguard uniform, his face pale and slick with cold sweat.

Lucas’s chest tightened.

The man was Marcus, a squad leader who had lost his left arm holding the northern supply pass under Lucas's command.

"Come now, Marcus," Malakai chuckled, swirling dark liquor in a crystal glass. "One more roll. If you win, your debt is wiped clean."

Marcus stared at the ivory dice on the table, his single hand shaking violently.

"That house is all I have left, Baron," Marcus choked out, tears burning in his eyes. "My wife is sick, and my children have nowhere else to sleep. I only borrowed fifty silver coins for medicine!"

"Fifty silver coins, with interest compounding every single week," Malakai sneered, leaning back with a cold grin. "Sign the deed over, or my boys throw your family into the mud tonight."

Three corrupt city officers sitting beside the baron burst into cruel laughter, banging their tankards on the wood.

"Sign it, cripple!" an officer mocked. "Lord Damien doesn't need beggars cluttering up the streets!"

Marcus reached out with a trembling hand, tears spilling down his cheeks as he picked up the pen.

"Hold on," a calm, rough voice cut through the room.

The laughter died instantly. Malakai frowned, looking toward the door where Lucas stood in his muddy worker clothes.

"Where did this dirty stray come from?" an officer barked, resting his hand on his sword. "Get out before I take your head!"

"I have coin to gamble," Lucas said, his voice flat and steady.

He walked up to the table, tossed a single silver coin onto the green felt, and pulled out an empty chair.

Lucas looked at Marcus, his face completely calm, giving the veteran a quiet nod. "Step back, brother. Let me roll."

Marcus blinked, stunned by the strange authority in the dirty worker's voice, and slowly pulled his hand away from the deed.

Malakai looked at the lone silver piece and burst into loud mockery.

"A single silver?" Malakai scoffed, shaking his head. "This is the high-stakes table, beggar. We bet gold here."

"A silver is all I need to take everything in this room," Lucas said softly, resting his arms on the wood. "Unless the great Baron is terrified of losing to a laborer."

The officers laughed, and Malakai’s fat face flushed with sudden irritation.

"Terrified of a beggar?" Malakai sneered, pushing a pile of fifty gold coins forward. "Put your coin down, boy. My table eats fools for dinner."

Lucas looked down at the two ivory dice resting beside the cup.

With his sharp senses, he spotted the faint discoloration on the edges immediately. The dice were weighted to land on low numbers whenever rolled from the right angle.

Lucas did not need a system cheat to beat a cheat.

He quietly channeled a thread of the dark power he had drained from Kael, the underworld head thug he killed earlier in the dungeon.

A sudden, pitch-black shadow exploded through the private room, smothering the light of every lantern in an instant.

"What happened to the lights?!" an officer shouted, drawing steel in the dark.

"Stay calm!" Malakai yelled. "Some high-tier cultivator must be practicing magic in the street outside!"

In that single second of complete blackness, Lucas moved with blinding speed.

He reached across the table, swapped the rigged dice with a pair of fair ivory dice from the side shelf, and sat right back down.

Lucas pulled the dark energy back, and the lantern flames roared to life again.

"Just a draft," Malakai grumbled, picking up the cup with an arrogant smirk. "Watch how a nobleman rolls, beggar."

Malakai rattled the cup and slammed it down, lifting the lid with a grin.

Two and three. Five dots.

"A five," Malakai smiled, crossing his arms. "Beat five, or leave your silver and get out."

Lucas picked up the fair dice, rolling them casually across his palm.

He had spent ten years leading men in military camps, mastering every game of chance soldiers played around midnight fires.

With a smooth flick of his wrist, Lucas sent the dice rolling across the green cloth.

Five and six. Eleven dots.

"Eleven," Lucas said calmly, raking Malakai’s fifty gold coins toward his chest.

Malakai frowned, his jaw tightening. "A lucky bounce. Let us go again. Two hundred gold."

"Two hundred it is," Lucas replied, pushing the gold right back into the center.

Malakai shook the cup hard, his eyes narrowing as he slammed it down onto the felt.

Four and four. Eight dots.

"Beat eight," Malakai sneered, leaning over the table.

Lucas picked up the ivory cubes, feeling the exact balance of the corners against his fingertips.

He rolled them with a gentle spin. The dice bounced twice and settled flat.

Six and six. Twelve dots.

"Twelve," Lucas said, pulling the pile of four hundred gold coins to his side.

The corrupt officers stopped laughing. The room fell dead silent, the air turning heavy and tense.

Malakai’s face turned an ugly shade of red, a vein bulging on his forehead. "You are playing tricks with me, boy."

"Are you saying the dice you provided are dishonest, Baron?" Lucas asked, his cold eyes staring right through the nobleman.

Malakai choked on his words, unable to admit the dice were supposed to be rigged without exposing his own scam.

"Everything on the table!" Malakai roared, slamming a heavy chest of ten thousand gold coins onto the felt. "One final roll! If you lose, I get your life!"

"Agreed," Lucas said, matching the bet without blinking.

Malakai grabbed the cup, shaking it furiously before slamming it down with all his might.

He lifted the lid, revealing a five and a five. Ten dots.

"Ten dots!" Malakai laughed, his confidence returning in a wild rush. "Beat ten, you arrogant dog!"

Lucas took the dice, his eyes locking onto Malakai’s sweaty face.

He tossed the ivory cubes gently onto the table. The dice bounced across the cloth, spinning rapidly toward a six and a six.

Seeing the twelve forming, Malakai panicked. He flicked his wrist under his wide sleeve, shooting a hidden beam of wind magic to knock the dice onto a one.

Lucas sensed the magic moving through the air before it even crossed the wood.

Lucas slammed his hand flat against the table, driving a heavy surge of Kael’s dark energy directly into the path of Malakai’s spell.

The two clashing energies collided violently inside the ivory cubes.

The dice overloaded with power, glowing bright crimson before exploding like an iron bomb right in front of Malakai's chest.

A sharp blast tore through the mahogany wood, sending flying splinters across the room.

Malakai shrieked in agony, clutching his right hand as blood sprayed everywhere. Four of his fingers had been blown completely off by his own reflected magic.

"My hand! My hand!" Malakai wailed, rolling on the floor in pure shock.

The three officers drew their steel blades, their faces twisting in fury. "You dirty scoundrel! You attacked a nobleman!"

"Guards! Kill him!" Malakai screamed through his bloody teeth. "Chop him into pieces!"

The doors burst open, and twelve elite guards in heavy iron armor stormed into the room, their halberds aimed straight for Lucas's chest.

Marcus gasped in terror, jumping forward with his single arm outstretched. "Run, brother! Get out of here!"

"Stay where you are, Marcus," Lucas said softly.

He had no time to waste on dirty lackeys.

Lucas took a single step forward, raising both hands into the air, his fingers curving like iron claws.

He unleashed the full, violent force of Kael’s stolen dark energy into the room.

Thick black mist exploded from Lucas’s palms, forming massive spectral hands of shadow that locked around the throats of all twelve guards at once.

Before the men could swing their weapons, their feet were lifted off the floor, their bodies dangling helplessly in the air.

The guards dropped their halberds, clawing frantically at their necks as the dark power choked the air from their lungs.

Their legs kicked violently against the empty air, their faces turning deep purple as their eyes bulged in absolute terror.

Lucas’s eyes burned with icy cruelty. With a sharp, merciless clench of his fists, he twisted his hands inward.

A chorus of twelve sharp cracks echoed through the private room at the exact same moment.

The guards went completely limp, their heads slumping to the side as Lucas dropped his arms.

Twelve heavy armored corpses hit the wooden floor with a thunderous crash, dead before their bodies stopped bouncing.

Marcus stood frozen in the corner, his mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief.

Malakai stopped screaming, his face draining of all color until he looked like a walking corpse.

He stared at the black mist swirling around Lucas’s broad shoulders, his eyes shaking with profound, paralyzing dread.

"That... that dark shadow choke..." Malakai stammered, his teeth chattering so hard he could barely speak. "That is Boss Kael's signature power! How do you have his strength?!"

Lucas stepped over the twelve dead guards, his boots crunching on the splintered wood.

"Kael is dead," Lucas whispered, stopping right in front of the shivering nobleman. "And you are next."

Malakai backed against the stone wall, clutching his bleeding, fingerless hand, shivering like a drowned dog.

In front of someone who could choke twelve armored men with a wave of his hand, his money and title were completely useless.

"Mercy..." Malakai gasped, raising his remaining hand to protect his face. "Please! I have money! I will give you everything!"

Lucas pulled a long, cold dagger from his belt and drove the tip hard against Malakai’s left eyeball, pressing until a tiny drop of blood formed on the eyelid.

"The keys to House Blackwood's secret vault," Lucas said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet hiss. "Now."

Malakai did not dare to flinch, terrified that the slightest movement would push the steel straight through his brain.

He reached into his inner pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out a heavy ring of five ornate iron keys.

"Here! Take them!" Malakai blubbered, desperately hoping the stranger would take the gold and spare his life so he could call Damien’s army later. "The vault is behind the bookcase! Just do not kill me!"

Lucas took the keys without looking away. "Thank you."

With a quick, heavy strike of the dagger’s hilt, Lucas slammed the blunt metal against Malakai’s temple, knocking the corrupt baron unconscious onto the floor.

Lucas turned toward Marcus, who was still staring at him in shocked silence.

"Marcus," Lucas said gently.

The one-armed soldier flinched. "Who... who are you?"

Lucas picked up the stolen land deed from the table and pressed it into Marcus’s trembling hand, along with a heavy sack of two hundred gold coins.

"Take your deed, Marcus," Lucas said softly. "Take this gold, gather your family, and leave the capital tonight. Go south, past the river."

Marcus looked at the deed, then looked up into the shadowy depths of Lucas’s hood.

His breath caught as his eyes caught the familiar, broad jaw and the unmistakable battle stance of his former commander.

"Commander...?" Marcus whispered, his voice trembling with tears. "Is it really you? But they said you died at the breach..."

"The commander they knew died yesterday," Lucas said, his voice turning cold as iron. "Now go. Protect your family."

Marcus wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve, bowed deeply with his single arm, and slipped out the back door into the night.

Lucas walked to the heavy mahogany bookcase against the far wall.

He pushed the shelf aside, revealing a massive iron door reinforced with three heavy deadbolts.

Lucas inserted the five iron keys one by one, turning the heavy gears until the vault door swung open with a deep groan.

Inside, stacked from floor to ceiling, were wooden crates filled to the brim with gleaming spirit gold coins.

It was the stolen fortune of House Blackwood, gathered through years of blood, extortion, and misery.

Lucas did not hesitate. He grabbed five massive burlap sacks from the corner and began shoveling the gleaming gold inside.

He packed six hundred thousand gold coins until the seams of the heavy sacks strained against the weight.

As he hoisted the last sack, a crisp chime echoed through his mind.

[Major Destiny Injustice Cleared!]

[Blackwood War Vault Confiscated!]

[Fate Disrupted: Damien's Money-Laundering Scheme Shattered!]

[+1,900 Fate Points Acquired.]

[Total Balance: 2,000 Fate Points.]

Lucas looked at the blue numbers floating in the dark, feeling the cold strength settling into his soul.

Two thousand Fate Points banked. Six hundred thousand gold coins in his hands.

Lucas hoisted the five massive sacks over his broad shoulders, their immense weight resting easily against his siphoned power.

He walked out of the ruined private room, down the back stairs, and kicked open the back alley door.

The rain had finally stopped, and the first pale light of the morning sun was breaking over the horizon.

Lucas stepped out into the quiet street, looking toward the distant tower of the Grand Velvet Pavilion.

"The gold is ready, Lily," Lucas whispered into the morning air, his eyes burning with absolute, lethal resolve. "Brother is coming to save you.”