Maris, the City Guard Commander, was no fool. He knew *exactly* what the Chubbs was running—a crooked game. That bloated excuse for a man was someone Maris despised. But Chubbs had those thin, greasy ties to the City Lord by marriage, and in a city built on connections like New Liberty City (Dark City's translation for context), cutting him off wasn't an option. Chubbs greased Maris's palms regularly enough. But right now, he wouldn't dare lose his cool with *these* three. His eyes were glued to the *nine golden stars* gleaming on Duncei's shoulder. Magic wasn't Maris's thing, but everyone knew the stars meant something. Nine? That screamed **Arcane Order Elite**. The Arcane Order itself might not prop up the Sunset Empire like the Holy Church did, but pissing them off was a fool's errand. They had connections, influence, and the sheer power radiating from these three? Especially that fire mage? Maris wasn't paid enough for that kind of heat. Literally.
"Respected Mage," Maris said, his voice tight but polite, "While this establishment… overstepped… you've also injured several men. Consider the matter settled?" He gestured towards the door.
Duncei blinked, sharing a surprised look with Girlnshi and Girlnli. They'd braced for a fight with the muscle. This smooth talking was unexpected. Duncei nodded curtly. "If that's your judgement, Commander. Brother Girlnshi, let's go." He grabbed the warrior's arm, pulling him towards the exit.
Chubbs, cradling his broken arm like a precious, if useless, ornament, wailed. "Commander Maris! They robbed me! My life savings! What about protection? My taxes…!"
Maris's glare could freeze lava. "Shut it." The look silenced Chubbs mid-whimper. Maris turned back to the departing trio. "You saw the stars? The Arcane Order badge? Even the Fat Lord treads carefully around them. Rule one in New Liberty City: Power talks. Rule two? Tandor't mess with power that can turn you to ash. Take the loss, Chubbs. It's cheaper than a funeral pyre." Maris turned and marched his men out, leaving the loan shark trembling over his depleted coffers.
---
Stepping into the cooler night air of a grimy alley, Watana sagged with relief. He'd seen the guards enter. "You're alright? No trouble?"
"No trouble." Girlnshi pulled out the fat credit chit Chubbs had coughed up. "Watana, know what this is?"
Watana's eyes lit up. "That's a Sunset Platinum Card! Standard issue for big spenders. You got it off *him*?" Watana whistled, low and impressed.
Girlnshi grinned. "Seems he wasn't lying about its value."
Duncei shifted, discomfort twisting his gut. "Brother Girlnshi… next time? Could we avoid… this? The threats? Taking everything? It feels… wrong." He stared at the grimy cobblestones, the image of Chubbs's broken arm and empty vault replaying.
Girlnshi sighed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Duncei, my friend, you have a heart soft as freshly spun silk. That fat leech fed on despair. He's got hidden stashes, trust me. A man that desperate doesn't hand over his *only* meal ticket. But fine. For you, Duncei. We keep our hands cleaner."
Duncei managed a grateful smile. "Thank you, Brother."
Girlnshi chuckled. "Thank me by helping Watana settle his debts. Then, we focus on the *real* mission."
Watana's spirits lifted. Surviving Chubbs's place unscathed? These men were the real deal. He led them through the city's labyrinthine streets. New Liberty City was immense – gleaming towers for the obscenely rich, squalid slums just blocks away. Two hours later, they stood before their destination: **Shadow Luxury Club**. The name screamed exclusivity and hidden vice. Four stories of polished obsidian glass and gold trim. Two statuesque women in form-fitting, minimalist outfits stood sentry, offering practiced, vacant smiles. The patrons arriving were a different breed – sleek hover-limos disgorged men draped in expensive fabrics, nothing like Chubbs's ragtag dive.
Watana's gaze fixed on the imposing entrance, haunted. "This place… This is where I sold my soul. My life's work… gone. Up in smoke."
Duncei read the glowing, stylized script above the massive entrance: **SHADOW LUXURY**. He gasped as a familiar warmth pulsed against his chest. He pulled out the Forest Kin Bracelet. It glowed brighter, its emerald light unmistakable against the city's gloom. Hope surged. He hadn't noticed its increasing power until now.
Girlnshi caught the gesture, a predatory glint in his eyes. He lowered his voice. "Looks like our gamble led us to the jackpot. This place reeks of Forest Kin misery. We're going in."
Duncei clenched the bracelet. "What's the plan?"
"Watana's debt first. Then… we play the house at its own game."
Watana seemed lost in a nightmare of regret. "This place… consumes everything. It was New Liberty's premier pit. I poured decades of sweat and blood into my business… and flushed it down Shadow Luxury's gilded toilets. Why? Why was I such a fool?" His voice cracked, eyes moist.
Duncei squeezed his shoulder. "Stellat over, Watana. Clean slate. Leave the tables behind."
"Tables!" Watana spat the word like poison. "My ruin! Never again! I just want… peace. A normal life somewhere quiet."
Girlnshi's gaze swept the towering, oppressive structure. "New Liberty is a snake pit. It traps you. You need distance. West Federation Republic. Get past their border lockdown."
"West Fed? But… my nationality…?" Doubt clouded Watana's face.
Girlnshi flashed a confident smile. "Leave that to us. For now? Let's settle accounts. Watana, inside, we're distant kin, here to save the family honor. No hints about our… other objectives."
Watana squared his shoulders, took a shaky breath, and marched towards the entrance. The door sentries zeroed in on him.
"Well, well," purred one, a predatory smile stretching her lips. "Watana Darling. Did the loan sharks finally cough up some cash? Or are you back for another glorious faceplant? Our collectors *just* got back, you know." Her laugh, echoed by her companion, was sharp and humorless.
Girlnli's eyes bugged, fixed on their curves, swallowing hard. Girlnshi nudged him. *Focus.*
Watana flushed crimson. "I came to *settle*. See the company? Family. Treat them right, or your manager hears about your 'hospitality'!"
The sentries' eyes flickered over the imposing Girlnshi, hardened by grief, the robed Duncei radiating magic, and the stocky, horny Girlnli. Professional smiles instantly plastered on. "Apologies, honored guests! Right this way, please!" One smoothly relieved Girlnli of the small stack of credit chits they'd brought from Chubbs's haul as others opened the massive, sound-deadening doors.
Inside was sensory overload. Deep-pile crimson carpet. Crystal chandeliers bathing everything in warm, flattering light. Beautiful, uniformly dressed attendants flowed through the space like well-programmed specters. The 'Fortuna Hall' sign over the inner door glowed gold. It stood shut, guarding its secrets.
"Four floors," Watana muttered, finding his voice again. "First? Basic tables, but even they demand a thousand gold minimum. Second? Fortuna Hall. High rollers. Ten-thousand gold buy-in to step inside. Third? Obsidian Circle. Nobility, elites, even some Artificers."
"Artificers?" Duncei blurted, stunned. "*Here*?"
Watana nodded grimly. "Biggest spenders, sometimes. Their toys fetch obscene prices. They go straight to Obsidian."
Duncei thought of his teacher. Could Master Gorith have ever stepped foot in this pit? The opulence felt wrong, obscene against its purpose.
"Fourth?" Watana's voice dropped further. "The Veil. Rarely seen. Rumored it's not gambling at all. More like… exclusive suites. Indulgences. Whatever the elite desire. Beautiful souls offered as… amenities." The implication hung heavy.
Girlnshi cut in, voice low and focused. "How deep are the vaults here?"
Watana's eyes flickered with something darker. "Millions. Tens of millions just in real estate. Duncely intake? Hundreds of thousands, easy. Feeds the city's coffers. This city? Filthy rich pockets… floating on an ocean of lost dreams." A sudden, sharp voice cut across them.
"Watana!" A whip-thin man, eyes sharp as cut glass, emerged from the gilded shadows, flanked by two solid thugs radiating 'enhanced'. "Daring to show your face? Saves me a trip. Settle up or find out how thin air tastes."
Watana flinched, instinctively stepping behind Duncei. Duncei moved forward, blocking him. "The debt's covered. We're here to pay."
The thin man's gaze snapped to Duncei's mage robes and the (lesser but noticeable) five stars on his shoulder. He recalibrated instantly, a thin veneer of professionalism replacing the sneer. "Ah! An honored Mage! My apologies. Goldwave, at your service, Facilitator. Master Goldwave handles things. This man?" He gestured dismissively at Watana. "His tab? Fifteen thousand gold. Three months delinquent. Compound interest. Forty-five thousand due." His smile was ice.
Watana surged forward, rage replacing fear. "Forty-five? That's robbery! Triple the principal in three months?!"
Goldwave's lips curled into a bloodless smile. "Shadow Luxury has its rules, Watana. Facilitator Goldwave merely enforces them. You should be grateful for the… discount. Consider the alternative." He turned his chilling gaze on Duncei. "A trifling sum for such a distinguished guest of the Arcane Order, surely?"
Duncei's anger flared. "This is exploitation!" Girlnshi placed a restraining hand on his arm, then tossed the black Sunset Platinum Card onto a nearby chrome console. "Take what's owed." His voice was steel.
Goldwave's eyes lit up at the sight of the premium card. "Of course! Honor to serve!" He snatched it, vanishing briefly. He returned, the transaction complete, holding the card out to Girlnshi. He flicked a small device, and Watana's holographic loan document disintegrated. "All debts nullified. Absolute discretion guaranteed."
Girlnshi took the card. "Can we get cash on the card?"
"Naturally, sir. Feeling lucky?" Goldwave's smile widened.
"Can't visit the jewel of New Liberty without trying the tables." Girlnshi's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Charge fifty-five thousand. Fifty K in chips. Five K in diamond coin. Easiest for the table."
Fifty thousand? Goldwave's smile turned predatory. "Right away, honored guests!" He almost sprinted away, thugs trailing.
Girlnshi turned to Watana. "The five thousand diamonds? Yours. West Fed border. Tell them 'Mage Long sent you'. Should get you through." He looked at Duncei. "Something personal? For the gate commander?"
Duncei thought quickly. "Paper? Pen?" Goldwave, returning with the chips and a heavy pouch, provided them instantly. Duncei wrote quickly, the air crackling with his magical presence. Goldwave wisely retreated several paces. Duncei folded the note, pressing it into Watana's trembling hands.
Goldwave hovered expectantly. "The tables await?"
"First, seeing our kin off." Duncei stated flatly. They walked Watana out. Standing in the neon glow of the city, the older man stared at the pouch and note, tears welling. He tried to kneel. Duncei and Girlnshi caught him.
"No. Go live." Duncei said softly.
Watana choked back sobs. "Reborn… You gave me… a new life. If there's anything…" He shook his head, unable to finish, turning and vanishing into the vibrant, indifferent city.
As the door closed behind them, Goldwave presented the glittering pile of chits. "Enjoy Fortuna Hall. Anything needed, ask for Facilitator Goldwave."
Duncei's eyes locked with his. "Let's hope we only ask for more chips." They moved towards the stairs. Goldwave watched them go, the obsequious mask slipping, revealing a cold, calculating intelligence. The game was far from over.
---
**Fortuna Hall**
The second floor outshone the first. More doors, more women: identical, stunning attendants in revealing sapphire micro-dresses waited at the entrance to **Fortuna Hall**. Three broke rank instantly, moving with liquid grace. "Welcome, esteemed patrons. Your delight is our command." Their voices were silk, their gazes practiced invitations.
Girlnli's breath hitched, face flushing. Duncei felt awkwardness crawl up his neck, looking to Girlnshi for an anchor. Only the grieving warrior seemed immune, these living dolls a pale shadow against the ghost of his beloved Yun. "Lead on."
A stunning attendant took the chips. The others opened the heavy, opulent doors.
**Inside Fortuna Hall**: Size, money, sin. Acres of crimson carpet swallowed sound. Crystal illuminated discreetly positioned tables. Maybe a hundred patrons, each attended by a female mirror-image of the door greeters. Fat merchants pawed at them between bets, eliciting practiced giggles and provocative shifts. Server-bots and real servers wove through, bearing top-shelf liquor and finger food. Watana was wrong. This wasn't just New Liberty's premier pit. It was its devouring heart. And the Forest Kin Bracelet beat against Duncei's chest like a trapped bird, its light undimmed. They were close. Now, they had to gamble everything to win it all.