The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 21

"I told him, put on this mask, and he'd become Sabo, with power and a price to pay. The real Sabo wouldn't give up his dignity, making a fool of himself." Sabo kicked the body aside, smiling at Lloyd, but that smile sent chills down Lloyd's spine, something he never anticipated.

"Surprised, aren't you? The real Sabo is deformed, a dwarf."

Sabo seemed unsurprised by Lloyd's astonished gaze, as if he had seen too many of those in his life, becoming accustomed to it. He stretched his short arms, the piled-up flesh and fragile bones twisting his body, organs squeezed into this small frame. He breathed lightly after swinging the sword just now, his thick fingers laboriously picking up the blood-soaked cards. He looked bulky, yet indifferent.

"Hope you're not displeased with my stand-in. After all, I'm the master of the Green Shark. Trying to dominate a group of rogues with a dwarf's body isn't very effective, especially when I'm also a Viking... Viking dwarfs are quite laughable, aren't they?"

Sabo said indifferently, though it was a sad thing, it didn't sound like his own story.

"Rather than laughable, I find it... admirable, to command a group of rogues with such a physique, quite impressive."

Lloyd said sincerely.

Sabo didn't feel happy about Lloyd's praise, instead, he calmly said, "And you? Lloyd Holmes, I'm curious why you're so confident in defeating him. Just a slight deviation of luck and your head would explode completely. That's not something mere luck and fearlessness can achieve."

It was a gamble on the edge of death, akin to dancing with the Grim Reaper, only pure madness could control it.

"His eyes, his eyes." Lloyd pointed to his own eyes, the gray-blue irises shining brightly, reflecting the bloody gambling table.

"That guy wants to win too much, madly so. As a leader, he should be awe-inspiring, but his dominance is too feeble. I've studied acting; he's not a qualified actor, nor a qualified gambler. True gamblers don't retreat; the chips in their hands are everything they have."

Lloyd had seen through that stand-in long ago, thinking it was just a negligible underling. But evidently, the real Sabo's appearance complicated matters.

"You seem to enjoy gambling, but I've never seen you in a casino."

Sabo, washing the cards, asked without animosity, music still playing in the hall, people immersed in warm prosperity, the death of that stand-in unnoticed.

"Gambling is a good thing. It can turn the tables. Even with just a coin, you could win the entire kingdom."

Fingertips lightly rubbing the new butcher's coin, Lloyd replied.

"But I had a friend who once told me, luck is limited. A person's lifetime luck is fixed. Perhaps today you were meant to be run over by a carriage, but lucky you tripped before it, escaping Death's grasp. Like a soldier on the battlefield, dodging countless bullets purely due to luck. But when your luck runs out, a fatal bullet takes your life. My friend was the best gambler I've ever seen, but he seldom gambled, saving up his luck."

Sabo nodded, having heard such stories before, but it felt different hearing it today.

"And your friend? Did he win the whole kingdom?"

"No, in one battle, he exhausted his luck. Shattered shrapnel pierced through the only gap in his armor, piercing his artery, the sturdiest armor became his tomb."

Lloyd said slowly, without any change in expression, as if it were a forgotten past for him.

"I also love gambling, but I love that feeling of teetering between life and death, escaping with all the spoils before the Grim Reaper's scythe falls."