Chapter 309: The Gamble
The biggest contrast between the Dark Sector and the rest of the Nebulous Bazaar was the sky. One was dark and full of nothing but the night sky; the other was blue and alive. Mythical creatures like pegasi and griffons were common sights in the White Abyss, but here in the Dark Sector, the sky was perpetually shrouded in darkness, and only carriages navigated the shadowy street.
He spotted a parked carriage nearby, a unicorn hitched to it. Activating Sigurd’s cloak, he vanished from sight and slipped inside the carriage. The unicorn was none the wiser.
Moments later, the owner of the carriage arrived—a burly man with a grizzled beard, known throughout the Dark Sector as Frank the Bookie. The unicorn began to move as soon as he climbed in. Frank settled into his seat and laughed. On his lap was a wrapped spear.
"Another day, another win. It’s just too easy." Frank smiled and inspected the spear. It was astonishingly short and wrapped in white. "Husnü’s greatest spear. That big bastard might have stopped making spears but that doesn’t mean they aren’t circulating in the market. Hahaha, I can’t believe those idiots would actually bet it away."
Dasha crossed his arms. The bettor was oblivious to the invisible intruder sharing the cramped space.
Dasha deactivated the cloak and Frank’s eyes widened in shock. "Well..." Franky’s eyes darted. Instantly, he understood he was trapped. "...this is unexpected." The bettor smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Without a word, Dasha severed Frank’s arm. The bettor gasped in pain, clutching the bleeding stump. His smile nearly fell but remained standing. He was a bettor, after all—challenges were his lifeblood.
"Go to the headquarters of the Monster Hunters."
"T-the Monster Hunters?" Frank lost colour as blood poured out from his arm. Panicking was natural. So was thinking things through. "A-alright. Hey girl, g-go to the Monster Hunters! You know ’em!"
The unicorn trotted faster through the darkened streets. Dasha had his eyes fixed on Frank. "You’re Frank the Bookie, right?" he asked, his tone the closest it could be to conversational.
"You know me? Haa...strange, because I don’t forget a face and I don’t know you," Frank said, a hand pressed to the blood pouring out from his arm.