Hate me, Miss Witch!

Although relying on these intelligence trump cards successfully forced Soros into a life-and-death gamble, it correspondingly meant that Shiayar had also pushed himself into a desperate situation.

He was the king of gamblers. Cheating, deceit, or an honorable contest at the gambling table—what hadn't Viscount Lori experienced over these past decades? Placing one's own life on the gambling table, especially in the opponent's area of expertise—in Dark Raven's view, Joker's actions were undoubtedly suicidal.

"Admittedly, what you said is theoretically correct," Dyres began. "However, is constantly hiding, constantly showing weakness, and cloaking oneself in Darkness truly useful? Although I haven't joined, as far as I know, the previous Swordbearers always embraced the philosophy of hiding and developing, but in the end, their fate remained unchanged."

Also wearing a half-mask that revealed only her fair and delicate chin, Dyres took a sip from her wine glass and softly continued, "Hiding in the shadows, retracting all claws, nominally developing patiently... But if this continues for too long, when the time is truly ripe... having grown accustomed to endurance and long forgotten how to wield a sword, can we still bring down that punishing Sword of Damocles?

"His Highness chose to forgo selecting a Swordbearer from the old Round Table and his confidants, many of whom were 5-Ring or even Titled Rank powerhouses. Instead, he invited him—then just an ordinary student who had recently broken through to 3-Ring—perhaps precisely because he wanted to bring about some change... A change that's completely unlike any of the previous Swordbearers."

"I can understand His Highness's intentions," Dark Raven frowned. "But that still isn't a reason to attack the enemy's strength with our own weaknesses, rashly seeking death."

"I understand your concerns." Dyres gazed with her pure eyes towards the scene on the highest level. "To be honest, I also don't think Joker's Illusion Technique will be effective. But, after all, the leader is someone personally chosen by His Highness, and ever since I've known him... he has never let me down. Perhaps this time, he might bring about some surprise?"

As she spoke, Dyres turned slightly to glance at the blonde girl beside her. Though wearing the same style of half-mask, Enola had not joined their conversation. She merely sat quietly in the corner, her gaze locked on Shiayar at the gambling table on the highest level.

As someone who had entered Shiayar's dreams, often playing the role of the interloper, Dyres was well aware of the unspoken understanding between Enola and Shiayar that outsiders couldn't comprehend. If Shiayar truly found himself in a life-or-death crisis, Enola would have already gone berserk, just as Colonel Zieg had recently experienced when Shiayar had fallen unconscious. And now, the blonde girl was still waiting quietly, which meant everything was still In Control.

Unexpectedly, Dyres found herself looking forward to what was about to happen.

...

SCREECH— The metallic body of the revolver made a grating sound against the wooden tabletop before coming to a halt in front of Viscount Lori.

He picked up the revolver with movements befitting a gentleman.

Viscount Lori paid no mind to Shiayar's previous trash talk. In the countless gambles he had experienced, he had heard words a thousand times more offensive, yet he always maintained his lazy smile. In his eyes, it was nothing more than the whimpering of losers. He was indeed old, but he was still a lion at the gambling table.

The City of Eternal Night was the lion's territory. He roamed it day and night, watching countless lavish gamblers kneel, trembling with fear after defeat, emitting pitiful pleas and wails.

The fog of information still clouded the revolver, concealing all information and details within the chamber. The arrival of Soros, the 6-Ring "spectator," was unexpected by Viscount Lori, making cheating with the revolver itself a fool's errand.

But that was no problem. Viscount Lori indeed understood a wide variety of cheating techniques, but he disdained their use, learning them only to see through an opponent's deceit. With mere tricks like those, he could never have become the king of this City of Eternal Night.

"A hundred souls."

"Deal struck."

A dark and profound voice resonated deep within Viscount Lori's soul. The next moment, Viscount Lori aimed the revolver, named Kamacite Moon, at his own chin.

BANG—

The muzzle flashed with white smoke and firelight, but no bullet emerged. It was a blank. This was only to be expected.

He was a Beastmaster, yet not skilled in combat. His attainment of the 4-Ring rank was solely due to the Pet Beast he had contracted by chance.

To be precise, calling it a Pet Beast wasn't quite right... The contract they had signed wasn't a traditional master-servant agreement, but a trade agreement. It was a demon from the Spiritual Abyss. The terms of the trade were simple, much like those with every demon: one side provided souls, and the demon granted a temporary boost in luck.

Thanks to his trade with the demon, Viscount Lori had won every crucial gamble. Through those gambles, the City of Eternal Night had consumed the lives of countless people.

The rampant sins beneath the City of Eternal Night initially served to satisfy the demon's voracious appetite for souls. However, once Lori became Borgia's white-gloved hand, he too grew to indulge in the sinful pleasure of controlling the lives and deaths of others.