Chapter 92: The Demon King of the Orphanage
The village was still alive when I walked back through the gates.
As I walked back through the village gates, now wearing a clean tunic and trousers, I felt a shift in the atmosphere.
Lanterns swayed from every post and doorway, casting warm orange light across the cobblestones. The sll of roasted at and spiced wine hung in the air, mixed with the sound of laughter and off-key singing from the tavern. The festival was still going, sa as every night, but sothing felt different.
People were staring at .
Not in a bad way. Not in a scared way. Just... looking. So of them nodded. So of them smiled. A few old n raised their cups in my direction as I passed.
What is wrong with them...?
I sighed and kept walking.
Before I made it ten steps, a small body slamd into my leg.
"Demon King Leo! Demon King Leo! Is it true?!"
I was nearly tackled by a flurry of small bodies. Lily and Tobin had
by the legs, their faces wide with a mix of excitent and betrayal. Lily was hanging onto my arm like a monkey, her big eyes wide and wet.
Behind her, the rest of the orphanage kids had ford their usual semicircle, blocking my path like a tiny army.
"Whoa, easy there," I grunted, ruffling Tobin’s hair. "What’s with the na? And why are you shouting? And is what true?"
"Are you really leaving, Leo?" Lily asked, her big eyes starting to water. "Are you going to go fight all the demons and leave us here?"
Tobin crossed his arms, his face serious in a way that looked funny on a kid his age. "The Demon King of the orphanage is leaving us."
I closed my eyes and took a slow breath.
Demon King of the orphanage?
I let out a long, heavy sigh and looked toward the village square. "Who told you I was leaving?"
The kids imdiately looked in three different directions, dodging the question with practiced ease. "We just heard!" Tobin shouted, suddenly very interested in a nearby flower stall. "Everyone knows! You are going to go be a big hero and forget about us!"
I sighed again, rubbing my temples. I had a very good guess who the source was.
That old drunken fool. I am going to kill him one day.
I crouched down, eting them at eye level. "Listen to . I’m not leaving to beco a ’Demon King.’ I’m leaving because the world is getting a little louder, and I need to go see why. But that doesn’t an I’m forgetting anyone. You have got Roran and Marta to keep you in line, right?"
"But they aren’t you!" Lily sniffled.
"Exactly," I said with a tired smirk. "They’re much scarier. Now, have you seen Mia? I still need to talk to her."
"We don’t know where she is," Tobin said, finally looking back at . "She was here earlier, but then she just... disappeared."
I frowned, thinking for a mont, but I didn’t have ti to dwell on it.
A loud, boisterous, and very drunken voice echoed from the center of the plaza, cutting through the music.
"Ahhh, co on! How do you always win?! This is rigged! The cards are cursed! I swear, you sold your soul to so gambling demon! YOU CHEATING BASTARD!"
I turned toward the sound and found Roran. He was sitting at a table outside the Rusty Mug with the Gambling King and a few others.
Roran was literally grabbing his own hair, his face flushed red with effort and alcohol. "Why do you always win this shitty ga?! You’re using magic! I know you are!"
"No magic, Roran," the Gambling King laughed, calmly sweeping a pile of small coins toward himself. "Just a better head for numbers than a man who drinks his weight in ale every night."
Around them, a crowd of onlookers laughed and cheered.
Roran slamd his fist on the table. "One more ga! Just one more! I will win this ti!"
"You said that seven gas ago," the Gambling King said, his voice dry as old wood.
"Shut up! Deal the cards!"
Roran cursed loudly and slumped back into his seat, looking like a pouting child who had just lost his favorite toy. I watched him for a second, shaking my head.
I shook my head in disbelief. So things never change.
I walked toward the group, the crowd parting slightly to let
through.
"Mind if I join?"
Roran looked up, his eyes brightening the second he saw , and then a huge, drunken grin spread across his face.
"Leo! My boy! Co, my favorite student! Sit, sit! You are leaving soon, right? A day or two? So this is your last chance to play with your old master!"
The Gambling King leaned back, eyeing
with a sharp, knowing grin. "Ah, Leo. I hear you’re leaving the village in a day or two. Wanna play one last ga? A parting gift, perhaps?"
"I was actually looking for Mia," I said, leaning against a nearby post.
"You can et her later," Roran slurred, suddenly standing up and clinging to my arm like a desperate beggar. He practically hugged my shoulder, his breath slling like a brewery. "Please! One ga! For the honor of the Iron Hound! Defeat these bastards and win back my dignity!"
I gave him a look of pure disgust, using my free hand to push his face away. "You don’t have any dignity left to win back, old man."
"Please, just one," he said, his voice suddenly soft. "One ga. Help
beat these bastards."
I looked at the Gambling King. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The other n at the table watched
with amused expressions.
I sighed, the sound lost in the festive noise. "Fine. One ga."
I sat down across from the Gambling King, who dealt the cards with practiced ease, his fingers moving so fast they blurred. "So," he said, looking at . "You are really leaving the village?"
"Yeah. In a day or two."
He nodded slowly. "Figured. A young man like you cannot stay in a place like this forever." He dealt the cards. "One last ga, then. For old tis’ sake."
I picked up my hand and looked at the cards.
"Just so you know," I said, "I am terrible at this."
"We know," the Gambling King said. "That is why we like playing with you."
They all laughed.
_
The next two hours were a blur of frustration and mounting losses.
Two hours of losing—watching Roran throw his cards on the table and curse at the sky, watching the Gambling King stack his winnings higher and higher while the rest of us stared at our empty coin pouches.
The crowd around us was growing, people cheering and laughing as Roran and I fell deeper into the hole. Roran was shouting at the cards, and I was using every ounce of my Instinct just to try and read the Gambling King’s tells, but the man was a stone wall.
"Hehehe! I told you, boys!" The Gambling King laughed, leaning over the table. "You’ve got the swords, but I’ve got the luck!"
The other n at the table laughed. A small crowd had gathered around us, watching the show. Every ti Roran lost, they cheered. Every ti the Gambling King won, they cheered louder.
I lost count of how many hands I lost.
By the end of the second hour, my coin pouch was empty. Roran’s was even emptier. The Gambling King’s pile had grown into a small mountain.
"I call it a night," I said, pushing back from the table.
"Giving up already?" Roran asked, his words slurred.
"I have nothing left to lose. Literally."
The Gambling King chuckled and swept his winnings into a leather bag. "A good night," he said. "As always."
I looked at him. "You never told us to strip off our clothes this ti. That is a win, I guess."
He smiled. "Consider it a farewell gift."
Roran snorted. "How generous of you."
"Alright, alright," the Gambling King said, finally standing up and sliding a large mug of ale toward . "You’re a good sport, Leo. If you’re really leaving, you’ll need a thick skin and a sharp eye."
The tension finally broke, and soon everyone at the table was drinking.
"To Leo," Roran said, raising his cup. "The most stubborn brat I have ever trained."
"To Leo," the others echoed.
I raised my cup and drank.
I took a few sips, the warmth of the ale and the genuine camaraderie of the villagers creating a rare, heart-warming mont. We sat there under the lanterns, sharing stories and laughing at Roran’s increasingly tall tales.
"So, you’re really leaving?" one of the other gamblers asked, his voice quiet.
"Yes," I said, looking into my mug. "Tomorrow or the day after."
Roran, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for a few minutes, leaned over and nudged my shoulder. "If you’re still looking for Mia... I saw her heading toward the jungle earlier. Just past the eastern gate."
I froze, my hand tightening on the mug. "What? Why did she go there? It’s dark, and the monsters—"
"You’ll realize why if you go after her," Roran said, his eyes suddenly clear and serious. He didn’t say anything else, just turned back to his drink.
I stood up imdiately, the warmth of the tavern mont fading into a sudden sense of urgency.
I gave a quick nod to the group and started heading toward the eastern gate, the music of the festival following
until it was swallowed by the silence of the trees.
Reviews
All reviews (0)