Elystria smelled.
It was the specific scent of an old woman wearing too much makeup to hide her sores. The smell of rotting fish from the harbor mixed with cheap perfume, illegal alcohol, and the sweat of thousands of sailors looking for a place to vent their desires.
Eric walked through the red-light district leading to the city center. He had removed his gold-dragon shoulder plates, smeared black mud on his remaining chest armor, and thrown on a tattered, rough cloak. Now, he looked like nothing more than a washed-up mercenary looking for luck.
On both sides of the street, inside steam-fogged glass cages, naked bodies twisted and posed.
"Come inside, handsome... I have a tail, do you like holding onto tails?"
A beast-kin girl with rabbit ears and a large chest pressed against the glass, licking the surface and leaving a messy trail of saliva.
Eric walked faster. His stomach tightened in disgust. The fake moans and the wandering hands trying to pick his pocket or touch him made his anger boil. He remembered the rainy night at the cathedral. He remembered Sinhara's gasping but proud breath. That encounter had been real. A scream of souls. Here, it was just soulless piles of meat rubbing together.
In front of him, the Golden Scale Casino tower rose tall, glowing with yellow lights like a lighthouse of corruption.
Eric pushed the door open.
WHOOSH...
The noise and a blast of hot air hit his face like a punch.
If the outside was a cheap meat market, the inside of the Golden Scale was a high-end slaughterhouse. The ceiling was incredibly high, with massive crystal chandeliers. The scent of magical incense was thick, hiding the smell of blood and sweat.
People didn't sit on chairs here. Wealthy merchants sat on the backs of slaves kneeling on the floor. The Dealers—both male and female—were topless, their skin covered in glowing neon lucky charms. They shook dice and dealt cards with the soulless eyes of living dolls.
Eric pushed through a crowd shouting around a wrestling pit, his eyes scanning every face. He wasn't looking for a specific look; he knew Sin would be disguised. He was looking for a pair of eyes that thought amidst a forest of eyes dull with greed.
In the west corner of the main hall, a cheer suddenly exploded louder than the rest.
"Open! Open! Open!"
Drawn to the noise, Eric shoved a drunken dwarf out of his way. It was the "Alchemical Luck" table.
On a marble tabletop, three glass vials containing clear liquids were being shaken by a female Dealer with three arms (a magical mutation). The rules were simple: When the three chemicals collided and broke in a golden bowl, the final color of the mixture decided the winner. Blue was High. Red was Low. And Purple... the odds were 1 to 100.
Sitting at the center was a young man in baggy laborer's clothes, his hood pulled low to hide his face. In front of him was a mountain of gold chips.
Sin.
He sat as still as a stone. Beneath the hood, his dark eyes were closed. He didn't look at the Dealer's hands. He listened.
Wrist force: 4 Newtons. Air humidity: 85%. Table friction: 0.3.
The numbers danced in Sin's head faster than any spell. He felt the vibration of the floor as a giant walked by. He calculated the collision angle of the three vials.
Clack. The Dealer slammed the golden bowl onto the table.
"Place your bets!" she shouted with all three mouths on her neck.
The crowd frantically threw money onto Blue and Red. Sin opened his eyes. He pushed his entire mountain of gold chips forward. A decisive move, without hesitation.
"Purple," his voice rang out, calm and steady. It was quiet compared to the shouting, but it made the Dealer freeze.
"Are you sure, brat?" she smirked. "No one has hit Purple in ten years."
Sin didn't answer. He tapped his finger lightly on the table. The Dealer shrugged and opened the bowl.
Sizzle...
Steam rose. From the golden bowl, a dreamy and deadly purple light glowed, lighting up the shocked faces of the crowd. The three chemicals had reacted perfectly, down to the last micro-drop, to create the color of Royalty.
"Purple! He hit Purple!" "Impossible!" "Cheater! He must be cheating!"
The casino exploded. The Dealer turned pale. She slammed her hand on the table, signaling the guards.
"Wait," she growled, her three arms reaching out to grab Sin's wrist. "Check his hands. He must have a hidden magic ring."
Sin sighed. He knew he had played too much. But he needed this attention. He slowly removed his worn leather glove.
Under the bright chandeliers, a hand appeared. It was not the calloused, rough hand of a laborer. It was the hand of a scholar—white, slender, with fingers that had spent their life sliding over ancient pages, not heavy crates.
And on that thin wrist, a faint, finger-shaped bruise was still clearly visible.
Five meters away, Eric went still.
His heart skipped a beat, then immediately pumped blood frantically to his brain. That mark. He knew its shape by heart. He was the one who had squeezed that wrist, pinning it to the cold stone altar in a madness of pleasure.
"Found you..." Eric whispered, his voice shaking with both excitement and rage. He charged toward the table like a mad bull.
Sin sensed the killing intent. He turned his head. Their eyes met.
"Nowhere left to run!" Eric roared, his hand only inches from Sin's shoulder.
CHIME.
A silver bell rang out. Space seemed to shatter.
All noise died instantly. The shouting gamblers froze with their mouths open. The dice falling through the air stopped mid-motion. Even the floating dust became still.
Time... had stopped. No, not time. Perception.
Eric felt his body weigh a thousand pounds. His hand was still stretched forward, but he could not move even a millimeter. He growled deep in his throat, using all his knightly will and magic to resist the invisible pressure. His eyes darted around, searching for the source of this terrifying magic.
From the top of a spiral staircase covered in red velvet, a woman stepped down. The sound of her high heels hitting the steps was the only sound in the silent casino.
She wore a jet-black evening gown that hugged her powerful curves. Her face was hidden by a half-mask studded with black diamonds, leaving only her red lips and eyes as sharp as razors visible. In her hand, she held a fan. But it was no ordinary fan. It was made from a single, massive feather that glowed with flowing liquid gold and ancient magical energy.
Madame Lysandra. Owner of the Golden Scale. And that feather... Sin recognized it instantly. It was one of the Divine Artifacts of the Libra Constellation.
Lysandra glided through the frozen crowd. She walked past Eric. He tried to move his fingers to grab her, but her gaze swept over him as if he were a common statue. She stopped in front of Sin.
Sin could still move. The Mirrakyn Stone in his breast pocket was heating up, creating a protective field that allowed him to escape the mind control.
Lysandra smiled. She used her feather fan to lift Sin's chin.
"In this place of meat and blood," her voice was smooth but freezing, "intellect is the rarest spice. Little boy, I am impressed by how you calculated the fall of those chemicals. Not a single bit of magic. Just pure physics."
Sin looked directly into her eyes, showing no fear. "I only played by the rules, Madame."
"Rules?" Lysandra laughed softly. "I am the rules here. And I want to invite you to play a real game. Not for money. These gold coins are too common for someone with eyes like yours."
She leaned close to Sin's ear and whispered: "We will bet for things more eternal. Memories, perhaps? Or... the freedom of that knight who is trying so hard to break my spell over there?"
Sin glanced at Eric. The knight was shaking violently, drenched in sweat, the veins on his forehead bulging. He was about to break the seal.
"I accept," Sin said quickly.
"Good boy."
Lysandra flicked her sleeve. The space around Sin and the woman distorted. Both vanished into thin air, teleporting to the highest floor of the tower.
BOOM!
The moment they disappeared, the freezing magic shattered. The noise of the casino rushed back. The dice hit the table. The crowd continued to cheer as if nothing had happened.
Only Eric collapsed to the floor.
"DAMN IT!" he roared, punching the marble floor so hard it cracked. He had just lost him again.
Eric scrambled up, pulling out the sword hidden under his cloak. He charged toward the spiral staircase.
Thump... Thump...
From the shadows beneath the stairs, four massive guardians stepped out. They wore full black armor, stood over two meters tall, and held blood-stained spiked maces. They weren't human. They were Bone Golems—soulless killing machines.
"Forbidden area. Leave," one Golem hissed.
Eric grit his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. "Get out of my way, or I'll turn you into scrap metal."
He was about to lunge when a large hand landed on his shoulder. Ardyn stepped forward. The former General had dropped his act of being a drunkard. He tore the burlap from the massive sword on his back, revealing a pitch-black, chipped blade full of killing intent.
"Easy now, young man," Ardyn said in his deep voice, standing beside Eric. "You weren't planning to go up there and settle a jealous fight without inviting an old man, were you?"
Eric turned, recognizing the scar on the man's face. "General Ardyn?"
"Former General," Ardyn spat on the floor, lifting his massive sword and pointing it at the four Golems. "Clear the way, you piles of junk. My hands are itching for a fight."
Eric gripped his sword, looking up at the high tower where Sin had vanished. "We have to get up there. Before that woman devours him."
The two men—a fallen knight and an exiled general—charged into the fight amidst the panicked screams of the Golden Scale casino.