A Second of Light

Walking out of the hotel in his coffee-colored tuxedo, Cole squinted his eyes when the rays of sunshine fell upon them.

Aedenstile has risen, and people left their homes to welcome the new dawn. Pedestrians covered the sidewalks, and steam-powered cars and horse-driven carriages swarmed the busy streets.

Although technology has advanced to the point where both gas-powered and even electricity-driven cars were developed by the combined efforts of the church and authorities, it was not feasible for the normal population because of how expensive they were.

Gas and oil was a commodity that was greatly restricted by the authorities. They needed it to fight the dangers lurking in the darkness and couldn't afford to waste it on transportation.

Not to mention, the majority of the population doesn't have access to electricity. It was not just because of price but also Pollution. Pollution of darkness had bad blood with electricity.

In order to combat this, only extremely wealthy people, like the owner of the Dolors Club and similar establishments could afford to install expensive Runic Arcane Magic which facilitates the transfer of electricity.

Stretching his limbs to soothe his tired muscles from the heavy physical training of last night, Cole followed the large crowds and trotted towards the bus stand where he waited amongst the group. Cole withdrew his gaze; steam and the charcoal-like smell filled the surroundings but Cole was unperturbed as his mind drifted onto a realm of his own. Buses came and went, and several of them took half of the people on the platform by the time his ride came around.

The bus was crowded but using his superior physique it was fairly easy for him to squeeze through, ultimately–he pushed his way into a corner, near the backdoor and waited patiently for the bus to start.

The severely overloaded car started with a hoarse and laborious roar of the steam mechanism. Once the conductor arrived to collect the fares, Cole simply stated his destination:

"7th block, North Grovebourne."

"One hundred and fifty Tyov."

Cole felt a little pinch but didn't haggle. He tossed the required amount to the conductor and simply closed his eyes after the conductor handed him a ticket.

Even though Cole spent 80-100 Klal whenever he visited Dolor's Club, he was a little cheap stake by nature.

Cole obtained important information from Dolor, in addition to that, he also received missions that rewarded him greatly. It was an investment that was worth it, and as such he was willing to spend large. But, if it was avoidable, he would not spend a single Tyov.

Platforms after platform passed by as people boarded the bus while some alighted.

It was a long ride, but suddenly Cole opened his eyes as his spiritual perception triggered. His steady gaze raked over the new batch of people who had boarded the bus.

Cole's thoughts churned but he was a second too late to act. He felt the approaching danger and sensed a threat he has never felt before, after coming to Aedenstile–except for the areas under the control of the House of Tempest.

His senses screamed as the hair on the back of his neck stood up in fright.

'My money has been wasted once again because of you–Parasites!' Cole's eyes turned red with unbridled hatred.

Number 13 appeared deep in his pupils. It swirled and quickly changed to 12.

"Let's Bargain!"

A man walking on the sidewalk, a large distance away from the bus, suddenly frowned. The next moment he found himself inside a bus being squeezed by a swarm of people.

A zealot cry resounded in the bus:

"Praise the Light!"

Boom!!!

An ordinary-looking tall man with a fit physique in a coffee-colored tuxedo appeared on the sidewalk and swept his glance at a bus on the platform from the tail of his eyes.

"May, you find salvation!" He closed his eyes and prayed sincerely.

...

A thundering blast resounded in the Capital of Commerce. As if the day of doomsday has arrived. Thick smoke billowed in separate directions. Cries for help, and shouts for aid and assistance reverberated among the smolder of chaos. A fire of mayhem erupted in Aedenstile!

...

A figure crawled out of the scattered cloud of dust and calmly walked toward the epicenter of the blast.

Cole was not hurt in the slightest, and even his tuxedo was as clean as ever with not a speck of dirt. However, a frown marred his ordinary-looking face. Amongst the rubble, dead bodies, sporadically tossed limbs, cries, shouts blood, and gore, his gaze landed on the attacker who has died along with the blast.

"A Second?" He muttered and then lost interest in the dead.

The Seconds were the lowest-ranking member of remnants of Light. He was not worth Cole's attention.

What puzzled Cole was how such a low-ranking member was able to amass such strength to blow up a bus with such might that even he felt the threat.

Hmm… Something's not right. I did feel some Light energy fluctuation but even if this guy blows himself, he shouldn't be able to cause such destructive power. Cole thought as he rubbed his temples anxiously.

What did he do? And where did this strength come from? Was it his own power or external? If it is the former, should I re-evaluate my judgment of Hours? If a mere Second can cause such destruction, I might die if Hours or Days do the same…

Derailing his out-of-control train of thoughts, Cole let out a turbid breath of air.

I need to leave; Hounds will arrive soon. This matter can't be hidden… Quickly making the most appropriate judgment, he didn't waste time and blended with the crowd that had gathered around this place, whistling to a sad tune because of his loss of money.

I knew it. The Gambler has cursed me. In one incident I lost a Bargain worth a hundred Klal! Note to self: When you see signs of bad luck–Go into hibernation.

Surprisingly, nobody found anything weird as a man in a neat coffee-colored tuxedo walked out of the debris as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

...

Inquisitor Constance was commonly known as The Dealer by the addicts who visited the largest gambling establishment–Gamblings Den in West Grovebourne.

It was a miracle how an unorthodox practice, such as gambling was able to flourish and pushed itself to become an orthodox religion–dedicated to worshiping the one and only–God of Fortune and Misfortune, Master of Luck–The Gambler.

According to the mythologies, out of several deities that fell along with Light during the doom of the Light Era, The Gambler relied on his luck and prospered!

Coming back to Inquisitor Constance, a strange scene was happening on the bottom-most floor of the Gambling Den. Instead of going upwards, the establishment was entirely built undergrounds.

This floor was one where only high-ranking priests and officials could enter. The upper floors were where addicts gambled real money on various games and some even came here to pray to The Gambler, asking him to bless them with good luck.

A deep frown marred Inquisitor Constance's face as she gazed at the huge human-sized golden weighing scale placed in the center of the chambers, tilting to one side even though nothing was placed on the scales.

"Old man, our luck is on the decline…" She nudged the man beside her.

Bishop Julius deadpanned: "I can see that."

She heard a reply as she pouted, looking slightly chagrined.

"Should we do a mass healing or some donations to build good faith among the general public? It can help us pass this ordeal and pull some luck towards us–" Her voice trailed off as she continued, "–though it would only be temporary…"

Bishop Julius shook his head.

"Lord has pulled back his blessings from Aedenstile. Our Luck will continue to decrease till it reaches a breaking point. When that happens, we must bet on the Winner and pull them to our side to tip the scales in our favor. Otherwise, people might suffer… blood of innocents will flow Aedenstile…" Bishop Julius' tone was solemn.

Beneath chaos laid opportunities. And opportunities ring the bell for the rise of a Winner–who takes all, if not most of the benefits.

This was the philosophy of The Gambler. From being a nameless character to a God revered by many, The Gambler rose from the ashes of chaos and became a Winner.

Even if the mythologies might say the greatest winner was some other deity, it was an undeniable fact that The Gambler chose the winning side and not only survived but carved a path for the rise of a new orthodox church–The Gamblers Den.

"And who might that be, old man?"

Before the Bishop could answer, a man in silver clothes with an insignia of two red rolling dice on the left side of his torso–knocked on the door, after which he came up to the couple and placed his fist on his chest, and said piously:

"Almighty Luck!"

"May luck favor you. Speak." Bishop Julius beckoned for the man to state his reason for the visit as he turned around. Meanwhile, the childish nature of Inquisitor Constance was nowhere to be seen as her back straightened and her eyes grew fierce.

"Bishop, Inquisitor, something happened near the shopping district in West Grovebourne that you might want to look into…"

Hesitating a bit for a moment, the man continued,

"A bus was blown up by a Second of Light."

Julius and Constance's faces turned grave. Despite knowing their Luck was thinning, they didn't expect bad news to appear this soon.

"From the preliminary investigation–what is surprising, is the fact that–it was just one small minion who drank some knock-off elixir and gained some sanctity."

"How is that possible?" Constance quipped, her tone growing puzzled, "A pseudo Order 1 blowing up an entire bus? What heavenly luck! Was he blessed by The Gambler himself?"

She turned around as she seized the man with suspicion.

The man lowered his eyes, unaware of how to respond. How was he supposed to know whether The Gambler blessed a random remnant of Light?

"Old–Cough! Bishop Julius allow me to take this case under my supervision." She asked in such a tone that held no path for refusal.

Bishop Julius nodded as the man and Constance walked out of the hall.

"Take me to the site." Constance ordered in a serious tone.

Bishop Julius reminded her in a low voice, "Look for a Winner, there must be one!"