CHAPTER 145: THE PRICE OF A BLUFF

The air in the lighthouse was so thick with tension you could have cut it with one of Elisa’s swords. Every single Candidate in the room, from the hulking Dwarf in the front row to the shadowy assassins in the back, was staring at Nox.

’He doesn’t have twenty-one Flags,’ Serian thought, her hand tightening on the hilt of her sword. ’This was a bluff. He challenged a monster like Ragnar with a bluff. We are all going to die here.’

Elisa, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with a manic energy. ’Yes! This is it! A huge, bloody brawl with the biggest guy in the room! I knew I liked this human!’

Mela just stood there, her face a mask of cold, professional dread. ’He’s insane. We followed a complete lunatic into a den of wolves, and now he’s trying to pick a fight with the alpha. I am going to die because of this human’s ego.’

On the central platform, The Collector’s polite smile never wavered. He simply held out a hand, a silent, expectant gesture. "The payment, if you please, Candidate Nox. Twenty-one Flags. The price was agreed upon."

Nox met his gaze across the silent room. He didn’t have twenty-one Flags. He had exactly three. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest, most reckless thing he had ever done. And he didn’t regret a single second of it.

"I don’t have them," Nox announced, his voice echoing in the sudden, dead silence.

A collective gasp went through the crowd. A few of the Candidates actually started laughing.

"He bid without the funds?" the Ironbeard Dwarf boomed, his laughter shaking his braided beard. "The human is either brave or a complete fool!"

"He is a dead man," the Ashen Elf woman from the earlier bid stated, her voice full of a cold satisfaction.

The Collector’s smile did not falter. If anything, it widened just a fraction. "Indeed. A violation of the rules of my auction is a serious offense." He paused, letting the threat hang in the air. "However... I find myself in a generous mood. And your performance thus far has been... exceptionally interesting."

He steepled his fingers, his pale blue eyes fixed on Nox. "I am a storyteller, Candidate Nox. A patron of the arts. And a story requires a compelling protagonist. Ragnar is strong, but he is a blunt instrument. Predictable. You, on the other hand..." He let out a soft chuckle. "You are a beautiful, chaotic variable. You are a story I wish to see unfold."

A new screen appeared in Nox’s vision, a private contract from The Collector himself.

[Offer of Patronage]

[Terms: The Collector will provide a line of credit of 21 Flags to complete the current transaction. In return, Candidate Nox will owe The Collector a single, unspecified ’Favor’ to be redeemed at a future date.]

[Accept / Decline]

’A Favor? From a guy like him? That’s a deal with the devil if I’ve ever seen one.’

[The entity ’The Collector’ operates on a strict code of equivalent exchange,] Liona’s voice noted in his mind. [The value of the ’Favor’ will be commensurate with the value of the 21 Flags. The risk is high, but the immediate reward is substantial.]

’What’s life without a little risk?’ He mentally pressed the ’Accept’ button.

The Collector gave a small, satisfied nod. He clapped his hands once, and the bundle of ten Flags on the platform dissolved into motes of light that shot across the room and flowed into the black Flag on Nox’s back.

[Flags Acquired: 10]

[Current Flag Count: 13]

[Debt to The Collector: 21 Flags.]

"The transaction is complete," The Collector announced to the stunned crowd. "The final lot is sold. My business here is concluded." He gave Nox one last, knowing look. "Do try to survive the night, Candidate Nox. It would be a shame for my investment to be wasted so soon."

With a final, polite nod, he stepped back into a shadow and was gone.

The moment he vanished, the fragile truce of the auction shattered. The entire chamber erupted into a cacophony of shouted threats and challenges, all of them directed at Nox.

"The human has thirteen Flags!"

"He is a prime target!"

"After him! His head is mine!"

Nox didn’t wait. "Elisa, front! Serian, Mela, back! We’re leaving. Now!"

He flickered, a blur of motion as he headed for the exit. Elisa let out a wild whoop of joy and charged forward, her warhammer a spinning circle of death that cleared a path through the surging crowd. Serian and Mela moved to cover their rear, their own weapons drawn.

They burst out of the lighthouse and onto the dark, windswept cliffside. They didn’t stop running.

"This way!" Nox yelled, leading them away from the main path and down a steep, winding goat trail that led toward the docks.

They could hear the sounds of the hunt behind them, the roar of dozens of Candidates giving chase.

"They are gaining on us!" Mela shouted, glancing over her shoulder.

"Good," Nox said, a savage grin on his face. "It’d be boring if they didn’t."

They reached the bottom of the cliff and found themselves in a maze of dark, narrow alleys between towering warehouses. The air was thick with the smell of salt and fish.

"We need to lose them in here," Nox said, ducking into a particularly dark alley.

They ran for another minute before Elisa held up a hand. "Wait. It’s too quiet."

The sounds of the chase had stopped.

"It is an ambush," Serian whispered, her sword held ready. "They have us surrounded."

As if on cue, a massive figure dropped from a rooftop in front of them, blocking the alley. It was Ragnar the Berserker, his huge axe held in one hand, his Royal Flag slung over his other shoulder. His face was a mask of pure, murderous rage.

"Nowhere left to run, little man," he growled.

More figures appeared on the rooftops above them, their silhouettes dark against the moonlit sky.

’Crap,’ Nox thought. ’This is a problem.’

Ragnar didn’t waste any more time on words. With a roar that shook the entire alley, he threw his Royal Flag like a javelin. The sharpened wooden pole was a blur as it shot toward Nox’s chest.

At the same time, Ragnar unslung his massive axe with his other hand and charged, the ground trembling with each step.

’He’s using his Flag as a weapon? Clever.’

Nox flickered, his body a blur as he appeared beside the flag in mid-air. He grabbed the pole, using its momentum to swing his entire body around in a wide arc, his legs scissoring out to kick Ragnar in the side of the head.

The kick connected with a solid thud, but it was like kicking a brick wall. Ragnar barely even flinched, just grunted in annoyance.

"Nice trick, boy," he snarled, swinging his massive axe in a horizontal arc meant to cut Nox in half.

Nox let go of the flag and dropped to the ground, the axe whistling over his head. He flickered again, appearing a dozen feet away.

"Elisa! Keep him busy!"

"With pleasure!" Elisa roared, charging forward to meet Ragnar head-on, her warhammer clashing with his axe in a deafening explosion of sparks. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the alley, cracking the pavement.

"Serian, Mela! Rooftops! Take out the archers!" Nox commanded.

The two elves didn’t need to be told twice. They used the walls of the alley as springboards, their elven agility carrying them to the rooftops in a series of graceful leaps. The sounds of a new battle erupted from above, Mela’s needles a silver rain and Serian’s glowing blade a dance of death in the moonlight.

Nox ignored them, his entire focus on the two titans clashing in the center of the alley. Elisa was strong, but Ragnar was a monster. Each swing of his axe forced her back, her muscles straining to block the overwhelming blows.

’She can’t hold him for long,’ Nox thought. He looked at the Royal Flag, which had embedded itself in the wall of a warehouse. An idea, reckless and brilliant, formed in his mind.

He flickered, appearing beside the Flag. He grabbed it and pulled it free.

"Hey, ugly!" he yelled. "Looking for this?"

Ragnar turned, his eyes locking on the Flag in Nox’s hand. He let out a roar of pure fury and abandoned his fight with Elisa, charging at Nox with the force of a runaway train.

"That’s mine!"

"Come and get it," Nox taunted.

He waited until Ragnar was almost on top of him, his axe raised for a final, killing blow.

Then he threw the Flag.

He didn’t throw it away. He threw it straight up into the air.

Ragnar’s eyes instinctively followed the Flag, his rage momentarily overriding his battle sense.

It was the opening Nox needed.

’Monarch’s Dominion.’

A perfect sphere of absolute blackness materialized around Ragnar. The berserker’s charge stopped instantly as he was consumed by the silent void. The world inside the sphere became Nox’s.

Nox flickered, appearing inside the sphere with Ragnar. The hulking brute was frozen, his face a mask of confusion as his connection to the world, to his own power, was severed.

"My house, my rules," Nox said.

His fist, now coated in the jagged black armor of the Infernal Monarch, slammed into Ragnar’s unprotected face. The berserker’s head snapped back, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the pavement.

The black sphere vanished. Nox stood over Ragnar’s fallen form, breathing heavily.

[Candidate Eliminated.]

[Royal Flag Acquired!]

[Current Flag Count: 33]

[Reward for Royal Flag acquisition: +100 Unallocated Stat Points. 1x Legendary Skill Box.]

The other Candidates on the rooftops, seeing their leader fall, hesitated for a moment, then turned and fled into the night.

The alley was suddenly quiet.

Elisa walked over, her warhammer resting on her shoulder. "You stole my kill."

"You were too slow," Nox said, a tired grin on his face. He looked at the new Royal Flag in his hand. "Besides, I had a better idea."

Serian and Mela dropped from the rooftops, landing lightly beside them. "The others have fled," Serian reported.

"Good," Nox said. He looked at the haul. Thirty-three flags. He was now one of the biggest targets in the game. "Let’s find a place to lay low. This night is far from over."

As they walked away, a new message from The Collector appeared in Nox’s vision.

[A fine performance. My investment is already proving to be a most entertaining one.]

---

The god chat was, for once, almost completely silent. A few of the newer, lower-tier gods were chattering excitedly, but the major players were just watching, their minds processing what they had just witnessed.

[Athena, Goddess of Wisdom & Strategy] His growth rate is exponential. He is not just learning; he is evolving his entire combat paradigm with every engagement. The use of the opponent’s own objective as a feint... it was a masterful psychological gambit.

[Mars, God of Tactical Warfare] The gambit was secondary. The true victory was in the application of his Dominion. He did not use it as a simple attack, but as a temporary, localized reality-alteration. He created a pocket dimension where the opponent’s strength was irrelevant. That is a level of control I have not seen in a mortal in millennia.

[Lord of Carnage] He beat him. He beat the biggest, meanest dog in the yard. I don’t care how he did it. The boy is a true contender.

[Auraelia, Goddess of Resilient Sparks] He protected them! He gave them all orders and they worked together! They were a real team! I’m so proud of him! 😭💖

The silence was finally broken by a new voice, one that had not been heard in the chat before. The text was not gold or red or blue. It was a simple, stark white.

[Interesting.]

The single word sent a ripple of shock through the entire divine assembly.

[Zeus, King of Olympus] The Administrator...

[Odin, the All-Father] He is observing this channel directly?

[The Administrator] The anomaly ’Nox’ has exceeded the initial parameters. His evolution has become a primary narrative thread. Direct observation is now required. Continue your... commentary. It provides useful emotional data.

The gods, for the first time, seemed to be at a loss for words. The game had just gotten a new, very powerful spectator.