The Deepening Darkness (1)
My meal with Lucia, Eisel, and Yuri was reasonably pleasant.
...At least, Lucia and I thoroughly enjoyed our food.
I wasn't even sure if Eisel and Yuri were actually eating, given how busy they were glaring at each other.
Had their relationship soured after their duel in the Colosseum?
Yuri did have a highly competitive streak, after all.
After patting my full stomach alongside a cheerfully oblivious Lucia, I finished up and returned to my dormitory room for a brief moment.
I had to travel quite a distance today, so I was preparing to leave the academy early.
It was time to acquire a new skill.
Ever since obtaining the hidden pieces in the Labyrinth, I had given a great deal of thought to which skill would be best to learn next.
Since both time and skill points were limited, I needed to select carefully and focus.
The first things that came to mind were, of course, skills related to critical hits.
Since my critical hit rate was already overflowing, I wondered about skills that directly boosted the player's 'Luck' stat.
In the end, I couldn't cut through that golem.
There were enemies, like the golem I faced in the Labyrinth, against whom physical damage was simply ineffective.
Although I could temporarily convert physical damage into the Light attribute using the Necklace of the Hero's Protection, it came with heavy restrictions.
It could only be used once a day, and it had a strict time limit.
I had also considered the Berserk skill.
It was a passive skill that exponentially boosted physical abilities when health dropped below a certain threshold.
But how does one's health drop?
You have to bleed.
To intentionally trigger Berserk, it was practically inevitable that I would have to allow enemy attacks to land and sustain injuries.
It might have been fine in a game, but now that this world was my reality, I judged it to be an incredibly high-risk skill.
And it would be painful, too.
However, I possessed the Second Form of Reverse Heaven, which consumed my health.
As powerful as the Second Form was, its drawbacks were equally severe.
While I could compensate for this by using elixirs to increase my maximum health, any battle would inevitably turn into a war of attrition.
What could guarantee my endurance in such a state was Berserk.
Even if I used the Second Form to its absolute limit and failed to defeat the enemy, my depleted health would naturally trigger Berserk.
But...
...Either way, it doesn't really allow me to adapt to a wide variety of situations.
My gaze then drifted toward the hidden pieces I had obtained from the Labyrinth before the public class.
I had acquired two items this time.
The 'Spirit King's Whistle' and the 'Red Dragon's Orb'.
Both were safely tucked away in my subdimensional pocket.
The orb was an item exclusive to mages—a magic-related artifact—so it wasn't something I could use.
Not only was I incapable of wielding magic, but learning it while blindfolded like this seemed nigh impossible.
This was a gift I intended to give to Yuri later.
Eisel was also a mage, but this item suited Yuri far better than her.
It was by no means a light gift to just hand over, so the key would be how to present it... Regardless, it would be best to give it to her before she ended up in any dangerous situations.
Next was the Spirit King's Whistle, a single-use item akin to a safety net.
If blown in an emergency, it would immediately summon a 'High Spirit'—one of the most powerful entities among spirits—to assist in battle, vanishing as soon as the fight ended.
A brilliant loophole regarding this whistle crossed my mind.
It was an extraordinary idea that would secure utility while simultaneously providing a massive boost to my combat power.
Now that the game had become reality, it was a method that might actually work.
To pull this off, I needed to learn the Spirit Sealing Art.
While standard 'Spirit Magic' usually involved summoning a spirit and forming a fair contract, the 'Spirit Sealing Art' was a skill dripping with human cunning.
It allowed one to forcibly borrow a spirit's power through sealing.
Even without spirit affinity or extensive knowledge of spirit magic, one could wield a spirit's power instantly.
There was no need to commune or converse with the spirit.
Naturally, such power came with bizarre conditions, and the Spirit Sealing Art was no exception.
One had to know the 'True Name' of the spirit they wished to seal.
A spirit's True Name was not something easily uncovered, much like a dragon's True Name.
Of course, having played as a spirit summoner several times, I knew the True Names of the High Spirits.
The Spirit King's Whistle would summon a spirit of an attribute tailored to the user's characteristics.
The primary options were the four elements, and I knew the True Names of the High Spirits for the other attributes as well.
The only ones whose True Names I didn't know were the Spirit of Light, associated with the Hero, and the Spirit of Darkness, closely tied to the demons.
Since I was neither a Hero nor a demon, there was no chance of them appearing.
I didn't particularly care which attribute appeared.
I was confident I could make good use of whatever came out.
Since it was a one-sided contract, the spirit certainly wouldn't have anything nice to say to me, but True Names existed for a reason.
Though it was a loophole, I believed it was a way for me, as a transmigrator, to utilize the single-use Spirit King's Whistle in a far superior manner.
The advantages were that it wouldn't consume any skill points, and the process didn't seem overly difficult.
Now, the remaining problem was who would teach me this rather malicious 'Spirit Sealing Art,' which could be considered an abomination from a spirit's perspective.
Sealing arts were considered quite rare.
The man who could teach this was someone who, even among spirit summoners, wasn't even treated as one—a man regarded as a weirdo or a fraud.
Well, is 'regarded' the right word... I suppose he really is just a weirdo.
Just as I packed my bag and was about to leave the room, Sierra questioned me.
[Where dost thou intend to journey today?]
Having long since grown accustomed to me leaving the academy and acting on my own whims, she didn't bother asking what exactly I planned to do.
I offered her a smile in response.
"A gambling den."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"He... He got it right again!!!"
Inside a modest gambling den located in the underground of a certain city, a commotion had broken out due to the sudden appearance of a 'blind man.'
The game the blind man was playing was the shell game—guessing which of three cups hid a marble.
The blind man, his eyes wrapped in bandages, shouldn't have been able to see which cup held the marble. Yet, perhaps by listening to the sound of the marble rattling against the cups, he was pointing out the correct one with absolute precision.
When the blind man had first entered the den, sat down, and pulled out a heavy pouch of coins, the dealer had thought he was about to make a massive killing today.
How a blind man who couldn't see was supposed to guess the correct cup didn't matter to him in the slightest.
But now, cold sweat was pouring down the dealer's forehead.
It was already the thirteenth time.
Out of thirteen rounds, the blind man had not failed a single time, pointing out the correct cup instantly.
Even with the dealer's rapid hand movements, which easily deceived those with perfectly good eyesight, the blind man's accuracy was unbelievable.
Fuck... What am I supposed to tell the boss...?
The massive fist of the gang boss, who owned the gambling den, loomed large in the dealer's mind.
A shill, who was a fellow member of the gang, kept trying to distract and goad him, but the blind man paid him no mind, unfalteringly choosing the correct cup every single time.
By the time the coins piled in front of the blind man began to turn gold,
the gang running the gambling den finally made their move.
Losing money was one thing, but the 'marks'—the other patrons—had completely abandoned their own tables to crowd around the blind man, watching the bizarre spectacle.
For the gambling den, this was a massive headache.
Smack!
Someone struck the back of the dealer's head with force.
"Ugh..."
Tears welling in his eyes from the sudden pain, the dealer spun around.
The one who had smacked him was the gang's underboss—a bald, hulking brute of a man.
The underboss was also a dealer.
Unlike the previous dealer, who relied solely on quick hands, the underboss employed far more insidious tricks.
"Get out of the seat. The boss is calling for you."
At the menacing voice, the dealer scrambled out of the chair, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios.
The underboss sat down and addressed the blind man.
"You don't mind if I take over, do you? Your eyes might be useless, but your ears seem sharp... A pro should be dealt with by a pro."
"I don't mind. In that case..."
The smiling blind man replied nonchalantly, letting his voice trail off.
He then pushed his entire coin pouch and all his winnings forward.
"W-Whoa, all in...!"
"Damn!"
"Now that's a man with some balls!"
As the blind man wagered everything he had, the surrounding onlookers erupted in awe.
"Hah..."
The underboss let out a scoff of disbelief, then immediately hid the marble under one of the cups.
Foolish bastard. Going all in right in front of me?
His hands began to shuffle the cups with blinding speed.
Swoosh.
Swoosh.
The underboss's shuffling was far more dazzling than the previous dealer's, causing the onlookers to grimace in confusion.
"Ah, I lost track of it."
"I can't tell either..."
"It's the right one, definitely the right one."
At the same time, the shill was diligently doing his job, trying to mislead the crowd.
Finally, the underboss's hands came to a halt.
"Alright, pick."
His confident voice rang out, and a heavy silence descended, filling the room with the onlookers' bated breath.
Would the blind man get it right this time as well?
He had wagered everything.
"Hmm..."
The blind man hummed, stroking his chin.
Unlike before, when he had pointed out the correct cup instantly, he was hesitating.
It was a bad sign.
One of the onlookers clicked his tongue, muttering, "He's done for."
The corners of the underboss's mouth began to curl upward.
"Hurry up and choose!"
Urged on by the shill, the blind man finally spoke.
"...There is none. None of the three cups... contain the marble."
The blind man's quiet declaration sent a ripple of murmurs through the room.
"None? What does that mean?"
"Did they cheat? I knew something was fishy the moment they switched dealers."
"What kind of bullshit is that? Isn't he just making excuses because he doesn't know?"
But the underboss, watching him silently, did not lose his smirk.
"Hey, can you take responsibility for those words—"
It was at that moment, as the underboss taunted the blind man while reaching toward the cups with a practiced, natural movement.
"..."
Suddenly, the blind man reached out and blocked the underboss's hand.
Immediately after, the blind man used his free hand to flip all three cups over at once.
"There's nothing!"
"It's empty?"
"What the hell!"
The marble was nowhere to be found.
The watching crowd gasped in shock.
The shill fell silent, cold sweat breaking out on his neck.
"The marble... is here."
The blind man said, tapping the back of the underboss's hand that he had blocked.
At that, the marble slipped out from the man's palm.
He had been hiding the marble in his palm, exploiting the blind spot of the onlookers' line of sight.
Clink!
With a clear, metallic ring, the steel marble hit the floor.
Roll, roll...
The onlookers' heads naturally turned to follow the marble as it rolled across the floor.
The underboss barked out an order.
"Fuck! Lock the doors!!"
Immediately, a gang member standing near the entrance slammed the heavy doors shut.
In the gambling business, having the house's cheating exposed was a fatal blow.
At the very least, they couldn't let any witnesses leave.
"What!"
"What do you think you're doing!"
"Are you people insane?!"
A few oblivious patrons shouted in anger, completely unaware of the danger they were in.
The gang members began to close in on them with heavy strides.
Scratching his bald head, the underboss spoke.
"Losing a few marks is better than losing the whole den, don't you think? Shame there isn't a single woman here... Hey, don't kill the healthy-looking ones. We can sell them off as raw materials for black magic."
At his words, the thugs drew weapons from their coats.
Only then did the patrons realize what was happening, and they began to tremble violently.
Though they came from various walks of life, not a single one of them was armed. To enter the gambling den, they had been forced to deposit their weapons at the entrance.
And the distance to the doors was far too great to cross before the armed thugs could cut them down.
"Is there a mage here? Anyone?!"
Desperate to escape, one patron grabbed the collar of the man next to him and screamed.
The man slapped his hand away.
"What's your problem? I have no intention of dying with you lot. Pwahaha!"
With a mocking laugh, he stepped out of the crowd of patrons and stood beside the underboss.
He was the shill—one of the gang members.
"Fuck... No wonder he was giving such shitty advice..."
The dumbfounded patron spat out a curse, but it did nothing to change their grim reality.
The underboss chuckled at the pathetic man's swearing.
Yet, there was one person among them who remained entirely unbothered.
Even as the thugs closed in, the blind man—the very catalyst of this entire situation—sat calmly in his chair, a faint smile still playing on his lips.
Seeing this, the shill standing next to the underboss whispered.
"Hey, boss... why is that guy smiling?"
"How the hell should I know?"
Did his lack of sight prevent him from realizing his life was in danger?
Just as the underboss was pondering this,
"What the—!"
The thug guarding the door suddenly cried out in confusion.
Immediately, something flew from the entrance, hurtling toward the blind man at breakneck speed.
Thud.
The blind man caught it with perfect precision.
It was the sword he had brought with him.
Everyone in the gambling den doubted their own eyes.
It looked as though the sword had floated into the air and flown to the blind man of its own accord.
Though they failed to notice, a thread so thin it was virtually invisible was attached to his sword.
In that moment of sheer bewilderment, as the entire room froze in disbelief,
Sring.
The smiling blind man rose from his seat and drew his blade.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
It was so noisy, and now it's suddenly quiet.
An old man locked in a cell beneath the gambling den stroked his beard.
It was Megredo, who had been caught using spirits to cheat in the gambling den.
"Hmm?"
Just then, Megredo sensed a presence.
Someone was descending the stairs.
Megredo tilted his head, watching the stairway.
A man stepped off the bottom step.
It was not the usual thug who brought him horribly unpalatable slop and called it food.
A blind man?
The man approaching him wore clean white bandages wrapped around his eyes.
"...Who might you be?"
Megredo asked, his voice laced with caution as he caught the pungent scent of blood wafting from the blind man. The man turned his head toward him.
The blind man spoke immediately.
"This voice... Could you perhaps be the famous spirit summoner, Master Megredo?"
"...For now, yes."
Megredo replied, his tone somewhat sour.
Am I famous enough to be recognized by voice alone?
...Well, he was famous, though mostly for the wrong reasons.
More than that, it had been quite a long time since anyone had actually referred to him as a spirit summoner.
The blind man standing before Megredo flashed a bright smile.
"I'm glad to see you're still alive."
"Well, they said they had no use for an old man's body... but since I'm a spirit summoner, they figured I might be useful for something and kept me alive."
Megredo had absolutely no idea who this blind man was, but he answered without hesitation.
Just as he said, the other prisoners in the cells had vanished one by one. Most of them were unfortunate souls who had been cheated by the gang and fallen into debt.
...Though, considering they had dabbled in gambling in the first place, it was hard to call them entirely innocent.
From what he had overheard of the thugs' conversations, the women were used as playthings before being sold to brothels, while the men were sold off to black mages or blood mages.
If not for that incident at the Imperial Casino, I wouldn't have had to resort to a dangerous place like this...
Thus, Megredo had been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to escape.
He was currently unable to command spirits of Intermediate rank or higher due to a certain set of circumstances. In short, he was in a severely weakened state.
And then, this blind man had arrived.
The commotion from the gambling den.
The thick scent of blood radiating from him.
And on top of that, he knew exactly who Megredo was.
He was a complete enigma.
Yet, judging by his gentle smile... he didn't seem to be an enemy.