Half an hour later, Rowan turned over his final card and offered Yami a polite smile.
"Sorry. That’s another one for ."
Silence lingered around the table.
Yami stared at his hand for a long mont, then let out a slow breath. Without a word, he pulled off the last thing he had left—his underwear—and tossed it onto the growing pile of coins and discarded clothes in front of Rowan.
Rowan calmly used Yami’s shirt to bundle the winnings into a neat sack and rose as if to leave.
"Hold it," Yami said, flicking away his cigarette. "One last round. If I win, you give everything back."
Rowan glanced at him. "You don’t have anything left to wager."
"Betting isn’t about what you want," Yami replied, slamming his grimoire down on the table. "It’s about what I’ve got."
The room went quiet.
"I’m putting this on the line."
Rowan hadn’t expected that.
Yami’s grimoire wasn’t just a tool. It was the foundation of his magic.
Reckless.
Or desperate.
"Fine," Rowan said. "If I win, I don’t want your grimoire. I want you to recruit into the Black Bulls."
That was the cleaner path.
Normally, joining the Magic Knights ant participating in the formal entrance exam and impressing one of the nine captains. But a captain could recruit directly if they wished.
No exam.
No ceremony.
Imdiate entry.
Yami didn’t hesitate. "Deal."
Five minutes later, Yami was reclaiming his clothes.
Rowan had won again.
Yami draped a black cloak over Rowan’s shoulders, the emblem of the Black Bulls stitched into the fabric.
"Welco aboard," Yami said, cracking his neck. "You’re one of us now. Let’s head to base."
There was no resentnt in his voice.
If anything, there was satisfaction.
With soone like Rowan around, future trips to the gambling hall might not end with him half-naked.
As for strength? Yami never recruited based on reputation or status. If he liked soone, that was enough. Power could be trained. Potential could be tested.
The Black Bulls had a reputation for chaos, but Yami didn’t care what other squads thought.
"You got a na?" Yami asked as they walked.
"Rowan rcer."
"Your card skills are ridiculous. What’s the trick?"
"Luck."
Yami snorted. "That’s it?"
"I’ve always been fortunate."
"Good. Next ti I hit the tables, you’re coming with ."
"Unlikely."
Yami shot him a look. "I recruited you. I’m your captain."
"You lost a bet."
There was a pause.
Rowan studied Yami’s face.
"You’re what—mid-forties? Surprised your wife doesn’t object to your hobbies."
Yami stopped walking.
"Twenty-eight."
Rowan raised an eyebrow. "You’ve had a hard decade."
They left the outer district and moved into the forest beyond the city. Just before dawn, a crumbling castle erged from the trees.
Stone cracked. Windows uneven. One tower leaned at an angle that suggested gravity had given up trying.
Yami spread his arms. "Impressive, right?"
Rowan extended his senses across the structure.
The exterior was deceptive.
Beneath the broken walls ran layered magical reinforcent. The castle wasn’t just a headquarters—it was a weapon. With the right activation, it could likely reconfigure itself for combat.
"Functional," Rowan said.
"Welco to the worst squad in the kingdom," Yami declared, kicking open the front doors. "Find an empty room. I’m sleeping."
He disappeared down the hall without ceremony.
Rowan wandered instead of resting.
He explored corridors, chambers, courtyards.
There was no library.
Not even a modest archive.
For one of the kingdom’s nine Magic Knight squads, that was... disappointing.
He did find caged magical beasts and training equipnt.
But no aningful collection of books.
Rowan exhaled softly.
If knowledge wasn’t here, he would have to seek it in the inner capital—or perhaps another squad.
Eventually, he chose an empty room and lay down.
This body, young and human, required rest. Unlike his greater incarnations, it was bound by physical limits. Hunger and fatigue would not kill him—but discomfort accumulated.
His mind, however, never slept.
He remained aware through the night.
By late morning, the body had recovered. Rowan rose and descended to the main hall.
Five figures occupied the space.
A pink-haired woman lounged on a couch, clad in little more than undergarnts, drinking straight from a bottle as if it were water.
Nearby, a petite girl consud an alarming quantity of food, stacking empty plates with chanical efficiency.
Beside her sat a large man who exhaled smoke continuously—but Rowan sensed the bulk was an illusion, a transformation spell masking sothing leaner beneath.
Across from him sat a tall, gaunt man wearing a military-style cap. Heavy dark circles hung under his eyes, as though sleep had abandoned him years ago.
Behind them stood a young man clutching a photograph of a little girl, muttering adoring nonsense about how she was an angel.
Rowan paused.
Yes.
This seed consistent with the Black Bulls’ reputation.
He offered a calm smile.
"Rowan rcer. From Soshi Village. I’ve just joined."
The room reacted in various degrees of curiosity and indifference.
His new Chapter had begun.
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