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Half an hour later, George slowly overturned his cards, flashing a smile at a visibly sweating Yami.
"Sorry about that. Looks like I win again."
Yami groaned, clutching his forehead in disbelief. With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his final layer of defense—his boxers—and tossed them onto the growing mountain of gold and discarded clothing piled in front of George.
Using Yami's tunic as a makeshift bindle, George bundled up the winnings and the clothes, standing up as if ready to depart.
"Hold on," Yami interjected, spitting out his cigarette butt. "One last hand. If I win, you give everything back."
George paused, waving a dismissive hand. "But you've got nothing left to bet. What are you going to use for stakes?"
"Gambling isn't about what you want; it's about what I have!"
With a resounding thud, Yami slamd his Grimoire onto the table. "I'm going to surpass my limits right here. This is my final stake."
"A Grimoire, huh? Alright," George mused. He hadn't expected Yami to go that far—the man was clearly tilted. But this played right into his hands. "Tell you what: I don't want your Grimoire. If I win, you just have to induct into your Magic Knight squad."
There were two ways to join the Magic Knights. The standard route involved the official entrance exam, where candidates displayed their prowess to the nine Captains. The other was much simpler: a Captain could scout and recruit anyone they deed fit on the spot.
If Yami agreed, George could bypass the tedious exams, secure a place to stay imdiately, and save himself the trouble of buying a house.
"Deal. Let's do it!" Yami agreed without a second thought.
Five minutes later, Yami had reclaid his clothes and was tossing a short black mantle emblazoned with the Black Bull insignia toward George.
"As of today, you're a mber of the Black Bulls. Follow back to the base."
Yes, he had lost—spectacularly.
However, Yami wasn't depressed. In fact, he was secretly thrilled. Why? Because having a subordinate with such god-tier gambling skills ant he'd never have to worry about losing his pants at a casino ever again.
As for the kid's combat strength? It didn't matter. Yami was the strength of the squad, and the kid could always be trained. If he pushed himself hard enough, he'd eventually "surpass his limits" and beco a powerhouse. Yami had never cared about raw power when recruiting; if he liked soone's vibe, they were in.
This was precisely why the other squads viewed the Black Bulls as a chaotic collection of eccentric misfits. But Yami didn't care. As long as they were happy, it was all good.
"So, kid, what's your na?"
"George."
"Your skills are insane. What's the secret? So kind of technique?"
"Pure luck," George replied simply.
"Luck?"
"Yeah. I've been incredibly lucky since I was a kid. I basically never lose."
"Perfect," Yami grinned. "Next ti I hit the casino, you're coming with ."
"I'm busy."
"Busy? Don't forget, I'm the one who recruited you! I'm your Captain!"
"That was the condition for your loss," George reminded him. "By the way, Captain, you look like you're in your mid-forties. Doesn't your wife mind you spending all your ti gambling?"
"Forty? I'm twenty-eight! And I'm not even married!"
"Twenty-eight?" George gave him a skeptical look. "You've definitely had a rough life, then."
---
The two chatted as they trekked out of the Royal Capital's outer ring and into the surrounding forest. Just as dawn began to break, they ca to a halt before a dilapidated, sprawling castle.
This was the headquarters of the Black Bulls.
"What do you think? Impressive, right?" Yami puffed on a new cigarette, looking quite proud of the ramshackle structure.
George's spiritual sense swept over the building, and his eyebrows arched in surprise. "It looks like a ruin, but it's full of surprises."
It wasn't a standard castle; it was a magical construct. He could sense that it had been modified to shift and transform for offense or defense when necessary.
"Not bad at all," George admitted.
"Welco to the worst, most dysfunctional squad: the Black Bulls!"
Yami kicked the front door open and led George inside. "Find an empty room and get so rest. I'll introduce you to the others once I've had a nap."
Without another word, Yami yawned, retreated to his quarters, and fell into a deep sleep. At this hour, most of the mbers were either out on missions or dead to the world.
George didn't mind the lack of ceremony. Instead of heading to bed, he took a leisurely stroll through the base. However, as he finished his tour, a frown deepened on his face.
"One of the nine great Magic Knight squads, and they don't even have a library?"
He had hoped to find a repository of knowledge to better understand the chanics of this world's magic. Instead, he found nothing but a few vicious magical beasts kept as pets. Then again, a Captain who spent his ti smoking and gambling didn't exactly scream "intellectual."
"I'll have to check the inner city later, or maybe pay a visit to one of the other squads," George sighed.
He eventually found a vacant room and lay down. Unlike his various avatars, his current fifteen-year-old body lacked superhuman physical stats; it still required food and sleep to function optimally. While his consciousness remained eternally alert—his soul didn't need rest—the physical shell would beco sluggish and uncomfortable if neglected.
---
George woke up near noon. Once his body felt fully refreshed, he headed down to the common room. By now, the rest of the Black Bulls were awake and gathered in the hall.
He scanned the room, counting five mbers.
First was a mature woman with long, pink wavy hair. She was lounging on a sofa in nothing but her lingerie, revealing plenty of fair skin as she chugged booze straight from the bottle.
Next was a girl who looked no older than a child, sitting before a table overflowing with food. Her stomach seed like a bottomless pit as she inhaled dish after dish.
Beside her sat a massive, hulking man who was constantly emitting steam or smoke from his mouth. George could tell at a glance that this wasn't his true form—so kind of transformation magic was masking his actual appearance.
Opposite the large man sat a tall, gaunt fellow wearing a military cap. He had dark, heavy bags under his eyes that made him look like he was suffering from chronic poisoning.
Behind the man in the cap was a young man holding a photograph of a little girl. He had a nosebleed and was muttering sothing about his sister, Marie, being an angel. He was clearly a severe "sister-complex" fanatic.
George stepped forward with a polite smile. "Hello, everyone. I'm George, from Saussy Village in the Forsaken Realm. I'm the newest mber of the squad."
(End of Chapter)
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