Ash didn't take his eyes off the table. In front of him, ten soul fragments gleamed with that faint glow that drove men crazy in the Dark City. He had a small smile, barely a gesture of superiority that was getting under the skin of the other five. You could see it in the way they clenched their jaws and how they avoided looking him directly in the eyes.
Gunlaug's three dogs glanced at each other sideways. A silent message passed between them. The Sleeper dealing, a guy with a face that had seen too much hunger, stopped for a second. His fingers hesitated over the deck before continuing to shuffle with suspicious speed, trying to maintain his poker face.
Ash noticed all of this and didn't react at all.
The moment the guy reached out to deal the next round, Ash moved. It wasn't an elegant move, it was pure necessary violence. He trapped the dealer's hand against the wood and, with a dry twist of his wrist, broke two of his fingers.
The crack of breaking bone was followed by a scream that made the other tables fall silent. In a place where blood usually attracted trouble, attacking someone was practically a death sentence.
"If you rig the cards again," Ash said, with a tone so flat it was frightening, "the next thing I break won't be fingers."
"What the hell are you talking about?" spat one of the players, standing up with his hand near his belt. "You're dead, kid!"
Ash didn't even flinch. With his free hand, he flipped over his own cards: useless garbage. Then, with a sharp gesture, he turned over the ones the dealer had been preparing for the hunter across from him: a perfect hand, the kind of luck that doesn't exist in this hole.
"They were in cahoots to sink me while you all divided the rest," Ash said, looking at Gunlaug's men. "It's a cheap trick. Why don't we stop wasting time, raise the stakes, and let someone without dirty hands deal?"
A hunter who had been watching from another table stood up. He was a heavy guy, with more fragments on him than brains, but with armor that clearly said he knew how to survive. He lumbered over to Ash's table.
"You've got balls to do this here," the man growled.
Ash let out a dry laugh, loaded with venom.
"And you've got a lot of patience to watch these idiots rob you right to your face."
The hunter, caught between fury and curiosity, sat down with a thud. He pointed at an outer Sleeper trembling with fear near the wall.
"You! Come here. Deal. And if I see one wrong move from your fingers, I'll cut your hand off."
The new dealer approached with trembling hands. The hunter looked at Ash with greed.
"What are you betting now, brave one?"
Ash didn't hesitate. He pulled out a soul fragment that shone with a different intensity, denser. Next to it, he dropped a small gem of cold light: a Memory.
"This fragment came from a Fallen. And this Memory is Awakened. I suppose such an important guy like you has something worthwhile to match this, or are you just all talk?"
Around them, the air grew heavy. Even the manager, Aiko — that dark-haired girl who always seemed to know who owed what to whom — approached to watch the spectacle.
The hunter, stung in his pride, emptied a leather pouch onto the table. Forty fragments rolled like bloody coins.
"Matched. Now deal."
The silence was absolute. Only the rustle of cards on old wood could be heard. The hunter lifted his, saw his hand, and let out a sigh of relief that he tried to disguise as triumph. He had a high hand, the kind that doesn't lose.
"The story's over, kid," the hunter said, reaching for the pile.
"Hold it," said Ash.
With a calm that made your hair stand on end, Ash laid down his cards one by one. A higher hand. Impossible to get legally, and yet, there it was. The hunter's face went from red to white in a second.
"How...? It's impossible! You cheated!" the man bellowed, losing control.
"I trusted in the heart of the cards," Ash replied with an irony the brute couldn't understand. "And I have much more luck and much bigger balls than you. That's all."
The hunter couldn't take it anymore. He lunged across the table with a roar, but Ash was already out of reach. Before the guy could recover his balance, Ash planted a punch right in the center of his face. The sound of his nose shattering was music to those who hated Gunlaug's dogs.
The man ended up on the ground, rolling around in blood and filth. Ash stood there, looking down at him like he was trash blocking the way.
"Pathetic," he spat.
Without haste, he pulled out an old cloth, wrapped up the mountain of fragments and the Memory, and tucked them into his chest. No one dared to move as Ash walked toward the exit, leaving the Gaming Hall behind in stunned silence.
...
The icy air of the Dark City felt almost pleasant after the stale atmosphere of the gaming hall.
Ash walked back through the alley, feeling the comforting weight of the cloth bundle against his chest. It wasn't just the forty fragments; it was the feeling of having taken something from Gunlaug's dogs without them being able to do anything about it. His pockets were full and his knuckles were a little sore, but it was worth it. It was, without a doubt, a good night.
He walked with almost reckless unconcern, humming a nonexistent tune as he crossed the threshold of the hidden tunnel, when a voice cut through the darkness like a knife.
"You're late."
Ash jumped, his body reacting on pure instinct before his mind could process who was speaking. He spun around quickly, his hand reaching for the hilt of his weapon, only to find a figure leaning against the ruined wall.
It was Nephis.
She stood there, with a calm expression, her silver eyes fixed on him without showing much emotion. Although Ash caught something resembling anger or annoyance.
Without a doubt, Changing Star was angry with him.
Nephis looked at Ash, waiting for him to give her an answer.
"Gods, you almost scared me to death, Nephis," Ash said, relaxing his shoulders and trying to regain his composure from the shock.
"If a scare can kill you, you won't last long here," she responded without moving. "So where were you?"
Ash let out a sigh and patted the cloth bundle under his clothes.
"Getting soul fragments," he explained quickly, before she could start the interrogation. "I heard a Sleeper talk about a supposed hidden gaming hall near the castle. Got curious and went to check it out. Ended up sitting down to play a bit and... well, let's just say I had a legendary lucky streak. Came back with a small fortune."
Nephis pushed off the wall with a fluid movement, stepping closer. She raised an eyebrow, a gesture that in her was equivalent to a speech full of skepticism. Her gaze dropped to the bundle and then back to Ash's yellow eyes.
"A gaming hall?" she repeated, in a tone that made it clear she didn't like the idea of her companion gambling his life in dens. "Give me details. I want to know who runs that place, how you got in, and above all, what kind of people gather there."
Ash knew at that moment that his "night off" had just turned into an overly long briefing session that would stretch until dawn.