Hate me, Miss Witch!

Lori looked at the revolver in front of him, his face ashen.

He had no idea where the gamble had gone wrong. The once-unfailing deals with the Spiritual Demon were now ineffective, but the ironclad truth lay bare before him.

The first five chambers had been empty; now he faced the last one.

The City of Eternal Night was dead silent, everyone watching as Lori's expression shifted unpredictably.

Eventually, his expression steadied. An ugly smirk twisted the corner of his dry mouth. "I think there has been some mistake in this round of gambling, and it's negligence on my part as the house."

As soon as Lori spoke, everyone understood his intention.

Without a doubt, he intended to play dirty—in other words, to flip the table.

Everyone knew such behavior was shameful, but they had to admit it was indeed effective.

The Audience only witnessed the gamble itself; they would not interfere with how the wager was fulfilled after the game. This had always been their stance.

And as the house, as the master of this casino, if Viscount Lori was determined to renege on the deal, then truly no one could force him to do anything.

It's the same old story: the referee, the judges, the officials, the organizers, the co-organizers—they're all my people. How can you possibly fight me?

Sure, such actions would drastically damage the casino's reputation, and business might suffer severely. But when it came to reputation versus life, everyone knew how to choose.

Instantly, an uproar arose from the gamblers below; all eyes were fixed on Shiayar on the stage.

Some were still marveling at Shiayar's insane maneuver, while others lamented that such a sensational gamble had ended so shamelessly.

But, on one side of the gambling table, Viscount Lori's expression suddenly changed.

At that very moment, he distinctly felt his spiritual power and soul starting to be devoured by something.

Instantly, his spiritual power dimmed, and he knew it would soon fade into nothingness.

Are you insane? I promised you souls equivalent to five hundred people, and I will certainly fulfill that! his spiritual power roared desperately. Yet, the only response Lori received was a deep, dark whisper.

"That was the past."

"Now, you have lost the ability to fulfill your contract."

"The soul of a contract breaker is also part of the deal."

The emotionless demon's whisper sounded again. The next moment, Lori felt another part of his soul ripped away.

The excruciating pain of his spirit being devoured further twisted his already grotesque, aged face.

Losing at Russian roulette wasn't the end for Lori. As long as he could abandon all shame, no one could force him to honor any wager. At worst, the reputation of the City of Eternal Night would be utterly shattered.

But what terrified Lori most was that his strongest trump card, the Spiritual Demon, had also turned against him.

Indeed, the slaves he currently controlled wouldn't provide the six hundred souls' worth he had promised the Spiritual Demon.

But with his accumulated wealth and hidden connections, gathering several hundred souls from across the Western Continent as an offering, even at great cost, was not an impossible task.

However, from the demon's words, it seemed the Spiritual Demon believed he had already lost the right to honor the deal.

RIP—

Another piece of Lori's soul was torn away. He had attained his 4-Ring status by relying on that demon from the Spirit Realm and had never tempered his own spiritual power like other Beastmasters.

Now, facing the backlash, Lori hadn't an ounce of strength to resist or struggle.

I understand...

I understand...

Amidst the excruciating pain of his soul being consumed, Viscount Lori's eyes, bloodshot to an indescribable degree, stared fixedly into the eyes of the mysterious person opposite him.

He staggeringly raised the revolver and pointed it at himself.

This mysterious person's rank must be lower than mine, he thought. It would be impossible for him to cheat in front of a 6-Ring Audience. The transaction with the Spiritual Demon must have been completed. My luck was enhanced; that's a basic rule every demon in the Abyss must adhere to during a deal. Under such circumstances, however small the probability, only one answer remained. The remaining live round in the chamber—was a dud. Although the Empire's munitions factory production lines were quite advanced, there was still a three-in-a-thousand to seven-in-ten-thousand chance of producing a dud. That's why the mysterious person could fire four shots without incident. Because from the very beginning, this wager was destined to be a draw—there would be no winner, nor any loser.

Viscount Lori shakily raised the silver revolver. An ugly smile twisted his lips as he looked at Shiayar.

"I admit... you did indeed win."

"But I haven't lost either."

His aged finger violently pulled the trigger, his bloodshot eyes staring intently at Shiayar.

"I'll remember you."

"This won't end here. From now on, I will—"

BANG—

A flash erupted from the muzzle.

The next moment, fragments of blood and flesh scattered as the headless, lifeless body collapsed onto the gambling table.