The Anomaly's Path

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 smell of roasted meat 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, same as every night, but something felt different.

People were staring at me.

Not in a bad way. Not in a scared way. Just... looking. Some of them nodded. Some of them smiled. A few old men 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 slammed 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 me by the legs, their faces wide with a mix of excitement 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 formed their usual semicircle, blocking my path like a tiny army.

"Whoa, easy there," I grunted, ruffling Tobin’s hair. "What’s with the name? 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 immediately 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, meeting them at eye level. "Listen to me. I’m not leaving to become 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 mean 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 me. "She was here earlier, but then she just... disappeared."

I frowned, thinking for a moment, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

A loud, boisterous, and very drunken voice echoed from the center of the plaza, cutting through the music.

"Ahhh, come on! How do you always win?! This is rigged! The cards are cursed! I swear, you sold your soul to some 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 game?! 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 slammed his fist on the table. "One more game! Just one more! I will win this time!"

"You said that seven games 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. Some things never change.

I walked toward the group, the crowd parting slightly to let me through.

"Mind if I join?"

Roran looked up, his eyes brightening the second he saw me, and then a huge, drunken grin spread across his face.

"Leo! My boy! Come, 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 me with a sharp, knowing grin. "Ah, Leo. I hear you’re leaving the village in a day or two. Wanna play one last game? A parting gift, perhaps?"

"I was actually looking for Mia," I said, leaning against a nearby post.

"You can meet her later," Roran slurred, suddenly standing up and clinging to my arm like a desperate beggar. He practically hugged my shoulder, his breath smelling like a brewery. "Please! One game! 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 game. Help me beat these bastards."

I looked at the Gambling King. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The other men at the table watched me with amused expressions.

I sighed, the sound lost in the festive noise. "Fine. One game."

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 me. "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 game, then. For old times’ 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 men at the table laughed. A small crowd had gathered around us, watching the show. Every time Roran lost, they cheered. Every time 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 time. 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 me. "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 moment. 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 immediately, the warmth of the tavern moment 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 me until it was swallowed by the silence of the trees.