The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 41: Lucky Day

Chapter 41

Losing the twenty silver coins he had saved over an absurdly long time, all in the blink of an eye for a single meal, felt like a nightmare clinging to Gazel’s spine as he strode through the city.

Every step hurt.

It took everything he had not to turn around, storm back into the restaurant, and demand his money back. Maybe even take it by force.

But he restrained himself.

He could not afford to act improper. He was trying to become a Shural. And who knew if one wrong move might give that white-haired freak the perfect excuse to end his life?

Maybe it was impossible.

Maybe it wasn’t.

Either way, Gazel was not taking chances.

So he kept walking, his calm expression nothing more than camouflage.

The nostalgic feeling he had earlier from being surrounded by people was crushed beneath something uglier.

Self-hate.

Shouldn’t he have packed food from the manor before leaving? Why did he walk into the city acting like some rich idiot, only to end up like this?

Stupid.

As he moved through the streets, voices and cheers suddenly reached his ears.

Gazel glanced ahead.

A crowd had gathered around a wooden table. A man with a long brown beard sat cross-legged behind it. Three bowls rested before him. People lined up, eyes glued to the table like their lives depended on it.

Gazel was already turning away when something caught his eye.

Above the stand, bold words were written clearly.

Predict and win big.

Triple, quadruple, any multiplier if you win.

It sounded like nonsense.

But one word punched straight through his chest.

Money.

His feet slowed.

He needed money.

If this place gave money, then he would try it.

As he approached, he realized it was not a show. It was betting. Prediction. Whatever one wanted to call it.

The bearded man placed a smooth, round pebble on the table, covered it with one of the bowls, then began shuffling all three at an insane speed. Too fast for most eyes to follow.

Coins exchanged hands.

Most people lost.

A few won.

Most walked away angry.

Gazel stood there, watching.

If he lost even once, his remaining silver would be gone. He would be penniless.

As doubt crept in, the bearded man looked up and grinned.

"Young man," he called out. "Care to try your luck? Win up to five times your money if you guess right."

Gazel met his gaze.

Decision made.

He stepped forward and sat at the front.

The rules were simple. Pick two bowls and double your money if you win. Pick one bowl and multiply your coins four times.

Risk and reward.

The more Gazel listened, the more his confidence grew.

The first round began.

The pebble was placed. The bowls covered it. Then the shuffle started.

Fast. Blindingly fast.

The crowd leaned in.

But Gazel saw everything.

Clear as day.

"One bowl," Gazel said calmly.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, disbelief crossing their faces.

The bowl lifted.

The pebble sat beneath it.

Silence.

Then noise exploded.

Eight silver coins sat in Gazel’s hand.

The bearded man stared, then laughed. "Again?"

Gazel nodded and placed four silver coins down.

Shuffle.

Guess.

Win.

Eighteen silver.

Again.

Win.

Again.

Coins piled up.

The crowd grew louder. The man’s smile stiffened. Sweat beaded at his temples.

Gazel kept winning.

Again.

And again.

Soon, over a hundred silver coins gleamed in his hands.

Rich.

Damn rich.

It’s good to be a demon, Gazel thought, grinning wide.

If anyone heard that, they would probably beat him to death.

Luckily, they didn’t.

He laughed freely, joy flooding his chest. For the first time since leaving the manor, he felt genuinely alive. Today is truly is lucky day.

He stood, ready to leave.

Then a voice drifted through the noise.

Calm. Masculine. Yet carrying a strange, soft charm.

"This place seems unusually crowded today."

Gazel could not help but notice how the expressions on the faces around him changed the moment that voice cut through the noise.

Fear.

Reverence.

The crowd parted on instinct.

Walking straight into the center was a young man, no older than his late teens. Short raven black hair. Clean features. A calm, almost gentle smile that felt painfully out of place here.

"Roy..."

The name rippled through the crowd in hushed whispers.

Gazel felt it then. The shift in the air. The excitement died. Even the noise of breathing seemed quieter.

Roy’s eyes drifted to the long bearded man.

"I see my friend seems to have lost a lot of money," Roy said lightly.

The bearded man’s fingers twitched.

His face stayed blank, but inside he was screaming.

If it wasn’t for this lunatic, he would still be rich. Still powerful. Still in control. It all started with one harmless question.

Should we play a game?

That single sentence had taken everything. His money. His pride. His life.

A devil with a friendly smile.

Anger boiled in his chest, but he swallowed it down. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

Roy shook his head pitifully, then turned to Gazel.

Gazel was still grinning, eyes glued to the pouch in his hand, swollen with silver coins.

Roy raised an eyebrow.

The corners of his lips curved slightly. Almost imperceptible.

"Friend," Roy said warmly, his tone so friendly it felt fake. "What do you say we play a game?"

Gazel blinked.

What game?

Roy slid into the seat beside the bearded man and casually pointed at the bowls and pebble.

"How about this one?" he said. "But let’s make it more interesting."

He explained calmly. If Gazel guessed correctly with one bowl, he would receive five times the amount.

Five times.

The words echoed in Gazel’s mind.

For a moment, he daydreamed.

He was sure he could win. He had already proven it. No matter how fast these mundane humans moved, he could see everything clearly.

The people nearby subtly shook their heads, signaling him not to play. Telling him to leave before it’s too late.

Gazel ignored them.

If this young man was a game master, then he was the game lord.

And a lord never backed down.

"Alright," Gazel said, sitting down. "Let’s play."

The first round began.

Shuffle.

Switch.

Blur.

Gazel pointed.

Win.

Five times the amount.

His confidence surged.

Second round.

Shuffle.

Faster.

He pointed again.

Loss.

Gazel frowned.

That was impossible.

He had seen it. Clearly.

"Giving up already?" Roy asked, smiling softly.

"In your dreams," Gazel scoffed, slamming another silver coin onto the table. "Bring it on."

They played.

Again.

And again.

Minutes turned into hours.

And soon

The sun dipped below the horizon.

The crowd slowly thinned.

When silence finally settled, the betting stand felt dead.

Gazel sat there alone.

His pouch lay open in his hand.

Empty.

His expression was hollow.

How?

How?

How?

The question echoed endlessly in his head.

Everything was gone. Just like that.

Then he noticed the weight in his palm.

One silver coin.

Roy had given it to him. A gift. A reminder. A promise.

"Come play again when you have more," Roy had said with that same calm smile.

Gazel stared at the coin.

There were still hundreds, maybe thousands of kilometers between him and the Bulwark.

How was he supposed to reach it with one silver coin?

His fingers clenched tightly around the metal.

Curse you, you damn thief.

For the second time that day, misery crushed down on him.

Today was truly not his lucky day.

To be continued.