Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 42: The Roulette of the Gods

Narinder walked with firm steps, moving away from the cult as the night air whispered around him. His cloak fluttered gently, and his mind was filled with dark and strategic thoughts. As he advanced, the landscape around him changed until he found himself at the threshold of the dwelling of the mystical merchant, a being who always seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

The mystic was there, as if he had been waiting for him, with his bright, inhuman eyes peering out from under his hood, surrounded by a thick shadow that enveloped his face.

The mystical merchant greeted him with a deep, melodic voice: "Tell me, freed god, do you long for more? Of course you do. What god is satisfied with what simply is?" The mystic smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "As you have seen with the bishops, there exists a state between the layers of this world. Between what you see and what is real."

Narinder, frowning, studied the merchant. "My desire for power will never be satisfied," he said in a low but determined voice.

The mystic regarded him with shrewd eyes, evaluating him with an almost hypnotic gaze. "I remember Leshy," he said softly, his tone seeming to slither through the air. "Before you, he was the last to negotiate with me. Despite his skill, he quickly accepted the challenges of divinity, with the help of his brothers."

The merchant paused, his eyes sparkling with a mix of nostalgia and cunning. "Many were drawn to his chaotic ways. He was an unpredictable god, a being who enjoyed chaos as much as you enjoy control."

Narinder clenched his fists; the mention of Leshy always infuriated him. "And in the end, he was defeated by me," he said, a note of dark satisfaction in his voice, his words laced with a mix of pride and disdain. "As will all who cross my path."

The mystic smiled, this time more widely. "Yes, those who seek power always face the same fate, sooner or later. But you... you are different, are you not? You will not let fate decide for you. You write your own ending."

Narinder watched the merchant, aware of the double-edged words he offered. Although the conversation flowed smoothly, both knew that every word had a purpose. The air around them felt heavy, filled with promises and dangers.

Without saying another word, Narinder pulled out the three divine tears he had earned after defeating Leshy from his tunic. The small orbs shone with an ethereal, almost unreal light as he handed them over to the mystical merchant.

Narinder then directed his gaze to the merchant's roulette, that strange artifact of fate. He turned it with a smooth motion, watching how the options danced before his eyes, each offering promises of power and wisdom. Finally, the roulette stopped. Three rewards emerged from it: a talisman, a new shining blue tablet, and an unknown relic.

Narinder tucked each of the objects into his infinite pocket. He examined the relic more closely: it was a bomb, with runes engraved on its surface, an arcane artifact called "The Great Mancer's Bomb," according to the description his crown provided.

Intrigued, Narinder decided to try something he had been contemplating for a long time. He took out his red claw, that relic he always carried, and with a precise movement, he plunged it into the Great Mancer's Bomb, hoping to extract more power from the relic.

But to his surprise, the bomb simply crumbled before his eyes, shattering into dust. The power he hoped to extract vanished instantly, leaving Narinder momentarily stunned.

Frowning, Narinder looked at the mystic, demanding an explanation: "Why didn't it work?"

The mystical merchant, with an unperturbed smile, replied calmly: "You were incompatible with that relic. With your claw, you can extract more power, yes, but not every artifact is suitable for you. The Great Mancer's Bomb simply wasn't meant for someone of your nature."

Narinder gritted his teeth, frustrated by the loss, but he knew he still had other cards to play. The pursuit of power was not always straightforward, but he remained determined to claim it, whatever it took.

Narinder observed the sealed door blocking access to the portal of Anura. Carved with ancient symbols that seemed to pulse with dark energy, the door exuded an ancestral power. Without hesitation, he extended his hand toward it, and his crown, as always, whispered the truth Narinder needed to hear.

"To pass, a sacrifice is required."

Narinder closed his eyes, allowing the words to resonate in his mind. He knew what he had to do. As the leader of the cult, he had power over his followers but also over their destinies. Then, a list of names arose in his mind, faces of the faithful who served him devotedly. One in particular stood out: Rinor, a green skunk who had been loyal and helpful. Without blinking, Narinder decided it would be her.

With a simple snap of his fingers, Rinor was teleported right there, appearing before him with a look of confusion. "M-my lord? What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty. But Narinder did not respond. He knew there was no room for explanations or sentimentalities.

With a wave of his hand, he lifted her into the air. Rinor floated, paralyzed by the power of her leader, her body motionless while her terror-filled eyes looked at him, searching for answers. However, the portal's door demanded her. Slowly, Narinder guided her toward the barrier blocking the entrance to Anura. The moment her body touched the door, she was absorbed, and her life was extinguished instantly, sacrificed to open the way.

The door, once unbreakable, vanished, leaving the portal to Anura open. Without looking back, Narinder stepped forward, his mind already focused on the next step of his mission. Rinor had fulfilled her purpose.