WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 187 - Gambling

187: Gambling?

A Card?

187: Gambling?

A Card?

After introducing Barrek to Bragan and handing over the design, Ben didn’t linger.

He left them to it, blacksmith and merchant, both good enough to handle the rest.

He had bigger problems.

The design he’d given Bragan wasn’t a weapon, or some enchanted artifact.

Just a simple thing from his old world, a metal deck of cards.

In a land strangled by pressure and uncertainty, any kind of fun was worth gold.

And cards?

They were more than fun.

They were opportunity.

He wasn’t just selling entertainment.

He was planting something deeper.

Gambling.

Sure, gambling existed here, but it was crude.

People only bet on beasts in the pits, or warriors in the arena.

But not everyone can enjoy this.

Games like this only flourished in the capital.

The rest of the city barely knew what they were missing.

And this include Krahal-Zir.

Ben planned to change that.

He wanted these cards in every tavern, every inn.

He wanted stakes and tension and tables full of laughter and loss.

More than that, he wanted coins to flow.

A gambling scene meant taxes, house cuts, reputation.

It meant people talking.

The next morning, he found Zarnak waiting near the courtyard, arms folded, face unreadable.

Around him stood the remaining Nephirid still left in the city.

Ben stopped.

He hadn’t expected… this.

Most of them were old.

Their eyes were sharp, but their skin was pale, their breath just a little too shallow.

Some had heavy scars.

Others leaned on spears more for balance than threat.

And the young ones?

They weren’t warriors.

They were sons and daughters who’d stayed behind to protect their family.

Nephirid didn’t usually grow old.

That was the unspoken truth of their kind.

Their bodies burned bright, healed fast, and fought harder, but when that power dimmed, it dimmed fast.

What stood before him wasn’t strength.

It was what came after.

Decay.

The stage where regeneration failed and wounds stayed.

And then there were others, less fortunate.

Victims of cursed ruins or poison.

Their skin looked wrong, discolored in patches.

This was the price of power.

The hidden cost of being a species too strong for its own good.

Nephirid medicine was nearly nonexistent. frёewebnoѵēl.com

Why bother building a system when your body fixed itself?

It may not be like that fro some, but they’re the minority.

No one spend a lot of resource for them.

And their culture that praise strength make them look on this old nephirid in disdain.

For most city lords, Nephirid like these were easy to ignore, just another problem they’d rather pretend didn’t exist.

They saw old age, illness, or injuries as burdens to quietly hide away.

But Ben saw something entirely different.

Because these Nephirid knew the locations of cursed ruins.

A tresure trove.

So far, Ben had only encountered two ruins.

One was that strange tower he’d found earlier, a place he hadn’t dared challenge again.

The other was hidden beneath the Ravager nest, the ruin he’d explored after his battle with the Magus.

He hadn’t found much that interested him there, but Elvira had insisted they stay.

She’d lingered in those halls for days, carefully studying ancient writings carved into cracked stone walls.

To Ben, it was just an empty ruin, but Elvira saw it as a vault of lost knowledge, something precious to be preserved.

A slow grin formed on his lips.

He’d turn these Nephirid into his guides, and use whatever in the ruin to fund his revolution more.

Who knows he can get something to give solution on the tax problem.

Ben stepped forward, eyeing the group.

“I’m Tzarek, the new lord here.

I asked Zarnak to gather you because I’ve heard you all have something valuable.”

The old Nephirid closest to him, gray-skinned and heavily scarred, gave a dry chuckle, clearly unimpressed.

“Valuable?

Us?

Look again, lad, we’re old bones and cursed flesh.

Not much left to value.”

A few murmured bitter laughs filled the group, but Ben’s calm expression didn’t waver.

Instead, he smiled.

“I don’t care about you condition.

I’m looking at what’s inside your heads.

You’ve survived battles and seen ruins most people would never dare approach.”

The veteran narrowed his pale eyes, his voice skeptical.

“And what do you care about old ruins?”

Ben met his gaze steadily.

“I’m organizing an expedition.

We’re going to survey every ruin, and place around this city.

I need people who know the land, who’ve lived it.”

For a moment, silence hung over them.

Then, like embers stirred in ash, something shifted.

Their Eyes brightened.

The scarred veteran leaned forward, a spark reigniting behind those pale eyes.

“An expedition, you say?

With us?

You serious about this?”

Ben’s grin widened.

“Dead serious.

Who better than you to guide the way?”

Another Nephirid, one whose skin bore patches of strange discoloration, stepped forward eagerly, leaning on his spear.

“We might be wounded, but we’re still Nephirid.

Give us a good fight, and you’ll see exactly what we’re made of.”

Agreement rippled through the group, grumbles turning into laughter, bitterness replaced by excitement.

They weren’t soldiers past their prime, they were adventurers, explorers.

It didn’t matter how wounded or aged they were; the heart of a Nephirid never faded quietly.

Ben nodded, satisfied, watching their newfound energy.

“Good.

Then prepare what you need.

We’ll go tommorow.”

But as the old turn excited, Ben noticed the younger Nephirid had remained silent.

Their eyes filled with doubt even suspicion.

Eventually, the crowd dispersed, leaving the courtyard empty except for one young Nephirid.

She lingered, standing stiffly, gaze locked on Ben with undisguised skepticism.

When the others were finally out of earshot, she stepped forward.

“What’s your real purpose here?” she asked bluntly, narrowing her eyes.

“Are you planning to use them as some kind of bait?”

Ben studied her calmly for a moment before answering.

“If I needed bait, I’d pick someone stronger, healthier,” he replied evenly.

“I’m not sending them out because they’re expendable.

I’m sending them out because they’re the only ones who know where the ruin is.”

She crossed her arms, still wary.

“In that case you can just get the information from them.

Why you need to bring them with you?”

Ben raised an eyebrow, a small smile forming at the edge of his lips.

“I’m not here to convince you,” he said simply.

“But tomorrow, feel free to come along and see for yourself.

Maybe then you’ll understand.”

She looked at ben for awhile, but knowing there’s nothing she can do she turned, and walked away.

But even as she left, Ben knew he’d she’d be there when morning came.

“Zarnak, who’s she?”

Zarnak glanced after the girl, his expression thoughtful.

“Her name’s Kaela.

Lost both parents to a raid a few years back.

Been looking after her grandfather ever since.”

Ben considered that, then nodded slowly.

“That explains the suspicion.

She’s worried I’ll get him killed.”

Zarnak shrugged, but his eyes softened just a bit.

“She’s stubborn, but she’s smart.

Give her time, my lord, she’ll see you clearly enough.”

Ben gave a small, amused huff.

“I don’t mind if she doubts me.

It’s good to have someone around willing to speak up.”

He paused, glancing toward the direction she’d gone.

“Make sure you prepare extra gear tomorrow, Zarnak.

I have a feeling we’ll have another set of eyes joining us.”

Zarnak’s expression tightened at the question, the easy calm of earlier replaced by a soldier’s focus.

“No need to wait tommorow,” he said, tone low.

“We found more than just footprints.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“Go on.”

“There were drag marks near the Black Hollow trail.

Deep ones.

Like something heavy was being pulled, maybe armor, maybe a wounded man.

Blood, too, but not enough for a kill.

Just enough to say someone’s hurting.”

Zarnak paused.

“And they found a broken banner pole wedged between the rocks.

Gravenhold colors.

Tattered, but fresh.”

Ben frowned.

“A retreat?”

“Could be.

Or bait.” Zarnak’s eyes narrowed.

“But there’s more.

One of the scouts spotted strange symbols carved into a stone wall near the ravine fork.

Faint, old, but someone’s been refreshing the cuts.”

Ben’s eyes flicked toward the horizon.

“Magic symbol?”

“Yes,” Zarnak muttered.

“The symbols were similar to some summoning spell.”

That caught Ben’s full attention.

“What kind of summoning spell, Zarnak?”

Zarnak hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“It’s old script.

Not one I know fully, but I’ve seen parts of it before, during the siege at Blackmire.”

Ben’s brows furrowed.

He remember reading the siege of blakcmire, one of rare conflict that happened dozen years ago.

“Blackmire… that was the one where half the garrison went missing before the fighting even started.”

Zarnak nodded grimly.

“Exactly.

The same markings showed up around the edge of the valley before they vanished.”

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, unease settling in.

“Do you know what kind of creature they’re trying to summon?”

Zarnak shook his head.

“No.

Not exactly.”

Ben narrowed his eyes.

“Can you draw it?

The symbol”

Without a word, Zarnak turned to the nearest stone wall, dipped his fingers in a bit of ash from the forge’s edge, and began tracing.

The lines came slowly, sharp curves, forked edges, layered like overlapping teeth.

Ben’s expression shifted the moment he saw it.

His brow furrowed.

He knew that shape.

He’d seen it in the belongings of the Magus he fought.

‘Do they want to summon a daemon?’