Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 309: The Gamble

Chapter 309: The Gamble

The biggest contrast between the Dark Sector and the rest of the Nebulous Bazaar was the sky. One was dark and full of nothing but the night sky; the other was blue and alive. Mythical creatures like pegasi and griffons were common sights in the White Abyss, but here in the Dark Sector, the sky was perpetually shrouded in darkness, and only carriages navigated the shadowy street.

He spotted a parked carriage nearby, a unicorn hitched to it. Activating Sigurd’s cloak, he vanished from sight and slipped inside the carriage. The unicorn was none the wiser.

Moments later, the owner of the carriage arrived—a burly man with a grizzled beard, known throughout the Dark Sector as Frank the Bookie. The unicorn began to move as soon as he climbed in. Frank settled into his seat and laughed. On his lap was a wrapped spear.

"Another day, another win. It’s just too easy." Frank smiled and inspected the spear. It was astonishingly short and wrapped in white. "Husnü’s greatest spear. That big bastard might have stopped making spears but that doesn’t mean they aren’t circulating in the market. Hahaha, I can’t believe those idiots would actually bet it away."

Dasha crossed his arms. The bettor was oblivious to the invisible intruder sharing the cramped space.

Dasha deactivated the cloak and Frank’s eyes widened in shock. "Well..." Franky’s eyes darted. Instantly, he understood he was trapped. "...this is unexpected." The bettor smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Without a word, Dasha severed Frank’s arm. The bettor gasped in pain, clutching the bleeding stump. His smile nearly fell but remained standing. He was a bettor, after all—challenges were his lifeblood.

"Go to the headquarters of the Monster Hunters."

"T-the Monster Hunters?" Frank lost colour as blood poured out from his arm. Panicking was natural. So was thinking things through. "A-alright. Hey girl, g-go to the Monster Hunters! You know ’em!"

The unicorn trotted faster through the darkened streets. Dasha had his eyes fixed on Frank. "You’re Frank the Bookie, right?" he asked, his tone the closest it could be to conversational.

"You know me? Haa...strange, because I don’t forget a face and I don’t know you," Frank said, a hand pressed to the blood pouring out from his arm.

"Let’s make a bet then," Dasha said. "How many people can a unicorn kill on the street?"

Frank narrowed. "What in the world are you talking about? The provisions of the White Abyss still apply to the Dark Sector. It won’t happen."

"So zero." Dasha looked out the dark-tinted window. "I bet thirteen."

The unicorn picked up speed, its hooves pounding the cobblestones with increasing urgency. Frank was quiet, the world drowned out by the sound of the carriage barreling through the streets. Suddenly, he heard a scream.

Quelch—!

Then felt the carriage lurch and nearly trip. There was a rumble in the wheels. His lips trembled. There was a second sickening quelch. The carriage became bumpy. The wheels were churning with a wet sound.

Frank’s eyes bulged in horror, the reality of the situation hitting him like a punch to the gut. "Oh God."

Two down.

The unicorn continued its relentless pace, and another body was struck, the impact followed by a gut-wrenching thud. Frank’s bravery was faltering.

Three down.

The third body was hit with such force that a gruesome snapping sound echoed through the street. Frank’s composure shattered, his remaining arm shaking uncontrollably. "Stop this madness!" he screamed, but the unicorn showed no sign of slowing down. He could control it, stop it, but could feel the tip of death on his throat.

Four down.

The crushing of bone in a manner that was wholly unwatchable. The fourth and fifth bodies were trampled beneath the unicorn’s hooves, the sickening sound of bones crunching underfoot. Frank could no longer contain his fear, his screams mingling with the cries of the dying.

But he couldn’t get out. Every time he tried, his body felt sick and weak. He wanted to vomit.

They went past the Champs-Élysées. They trampled body after body, scream after scream.

By the time they reached their destination, thirteen bodies lay behind them, their blood painting a horrific trail of death. Frank sat there, trembling, the smile long gone from his face, replaced by an expression of sheer, unadulterated terror.

"A second bet. Let us see if you get this right." Dasha’s one exposed eye stared at him. "What is the heart of a bettor worth?"

Frank, hollow, croaked, "Nothing."

Dasha flexed his gauntlets. "Correct."

He plunged his hand into Frank’s chest and ripped out his heart. The lifeless body slumped forward, and Dasha tossed the heart aside. He opened the door and stepped out to face the home of the Monster Hunters.

A towering monolith in the Dark Sector, a brown edifice of fifteen stories, dwarfing the surrounding buildings. Designed in the Georgian architectural style, the building was abnormal with its symmetrical facades, tall windows, and intricate moldings. Large columns supported the grand entrance, which was framed by a pediment bearing the guild’s emblem—a sword piercing a monstrous eye.

Dasha approached the grand entrance with a measured pace. His eyes traced the guild emblem on the twin doors before he raised a hand and knocked politely. Within moments, the large twin doors creaked open.

"Who is this?"

A disembodied voice came through. Dasha knocked again.

"I ask again: who are you? Do you have an appointment?"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

At this point, the assigned guard sighed and opened the large twin doors. The guard expected to see someone. He didn’t.

"Hello—?" The guard’s words were cut off abruptly. The first body dropped, Dasha’s hand retracting from where it had pierced the man’s chest, the heart crushed within his grip.

He stepped over the corpse and kicked it outside. Dasha was officially inside. After a short walk, he was in the Grand Hall. The interior was equally as impressive as the exterior—high ceilings with chandeliers, polished marble floors, and walls lined with paintings of their conquests. His invisibility activated, he briefly examined the images.

’Vincent van Gogh, Michelangelo...’

Many legends were hired for these paintings. Dasha did not stop and kept walking. He paused for the briefest of moments for one particular painting. A hundred men in white robes rushing up to fight an eight-headed serpent. At the very bottom were the raised hands of normal men and the burning of booths. ’Yamata-no-Orochi...he’s in the Nebulous Bazaar fighting the Kangxi Emperor and his sons. The Monster Hunters were there too. A foot-note at the sides yet involved nonetheless.’

Dasha turned his attention to the Monster Hunters chatting amongst each other. While the Grand Hall was fancy, the hunters were not. A majority of them were lounging about, blood and dirt left behind from their boots. The polished marble floors did not matter to them.

Dasha counted thirty of them in the Grand Hall.

To the rational, this was a gamble.

To Dasha, it was...

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