The villain's side of the novel-Novel

Chapter 216  The Blood Poker

The group gathered around a dimly lit table, the cards laid out before them. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, and a chilling breeze seemed to fill the room, making the candles flicker and casting eerie shadows on the players' faces.

The innkeeper and his shadowy accomplices sat on the opposite side, their faces obscured by the darkness. The burly man, now skinny and pale, coughed weakly, a reminder of the stakes they were facing.

Lisa, Aslan, and Lysander exchanged determined glances, knowing the gravity of the game they were about to play.

Fray was called but also concerned as he looked at the cards in front of them as each one represented a portion of their life essence, and losing a round meant surrendering a portion of their blood to the sinister darkness that surrounded them.

The innkeeper's voice echoed through the room, low and ominous. "Welcome, to the next round of Blood Poker," he announced. "Prepare yourselves for a game that will test your wit, your luck, and your resolve."

As the first round began, the tension grew even thicker. The group played with skill and cunning, carefully choosing their moves. But the innkeeper and his team were no ordinary opponents; they seemed to know the group's strategies even before they made their moves.

Fray, Aslan, and Lysander won the first round, their spirits lifting With each loss, a huge paul of blood will leave their body and fade into the darkness that surrounded them.

with the hope of success. But the innkeeper's team was relentless, and the following rounds proved to be more challenging than they had anticipated.

With each loss, Fray and his team felt the weight of their sacrifice. With each loss, a huge paul of blood will leave their body and fade into the darkness that surrounded them.

The burly man, now weak and shaky, coughed up more blood with each passing round, but a twisted smile remained on his face as if reveling in the chaos.

The man with one arm played with a cunning gleam in his eye, while the scarred man's gaze was cold and calculating. The fat man, with a seemingly friendly smile, hid darkness within.

Despite their best efforts, Fray and his team found themselves on the brink of defeat after the fifth round. As they lost three rounds and a huge portion of their blood,  they knew that if they continued, the consequences would be dire.

Taking a moment to share a meaningful look, the group made a silent decision. Fray, Aslan,  Lisa, and Lysander knew that they had fought with all their strength, but it was time to protect what remained of their lives.

"We surrender," Fray finally said, his voice tinged with resignation.

The innkeeper's smile widened, and his shadowy accomplices seemed to sense their victory. "A wise decision," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Fray raised an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion evident on his face. "You want to save your question as well?" he asked, his tone guarded.

The innkeeper's smile widened, and he leaned back in his chair, the fire from the nearby hearth casting flickering shadows on his face. "Indeed," he said, his voice calm and enigmatic. "Just like you, I believe there will come a moment when the right question will reveal itself."

...

The group stood before a hidden entrance under the innkeeper's watchful gaze. A spiral staircase led them deep beneath the surface, into a dark and mysterious maze. The walls seemed to pulse with an eerie energy, and strange whispers echoed through the corridors.

As they descended, the innkeeper's voice carried through the air, explaining the rules of the game they were about to face.

"Welcome to the Maze of Shadows," the innkeeper declared. "The rules are simple. The first one to reach the center of the maze will be declared the winner. But be warned, within these walls, you will encounter your deepest fears and most haunting memories. They will manifest as hallucinations, and you must face them to move forward."

Aslan and Lisa exchanged wary glances, steeling themselves for the challenges that lay ahead. The innkeeper's team of villagers looked equally determined, ready to face their own fears in the dark maze.

Without further ado, the group entered the maze, and the entrance was sealed shut behind them. The air grew colder, and the walls seemed to shift, disorienting their senses.

...

Aslan ventured deeper into the maze, the dim corridors twisting and turning, leading her further into the heart of the labyrinth. With each step, the air seemed to grow heavier, laden with a somber weight that mirrored the darkness within her.

As she turned a corner, she found herself face to face with a wall of memories. Images of her mother's funeral adorned the stone surface, hauntingly vivid. The scene depicted a gray and overcast day, with raindrops falling like tears from the somber sky.

The funeral procession was a melancholic affair, with mourners dressed in black, their faces etched with sorrow. Aslan stood amidst the crowd, her heart heavy with grief. Her mother's casket was lowered into the ground, and she felt as if her world was being buried along with it.

In the midst of the mourners, her father stood tall but distant, his expression cold and indifferent.

The memories of that day flooded Aslan's mind, overwhelming her with a profound sense of loss and abandonment. She felt like an island adrift in a sea of sorrow, unable to find solace or refuge.

The weight of her mother's absence bore down on her, and she longed for the warmth of her embrace, the sound of her laughter. Aslan's heart ached as she recalled the void her mother's passing had left in her life.

In the maze of memories, Aslan confronted the darkness that had lingered within her for so long. The pain and sadness enveloped her, threatening to pull her into an abyss of despair.

But just as the darkness seemed to swallow her whole, a flicker of light emerged in the form of a familiar image. Then suddenly a certain memory awakened her and replaced the darkness in the wall

Aslan was sitting with her head between her legs, her tears flowing freely. The weight of her grief was too much to bear, and she felt utterly alone in her pain.

But then, without a word, a tall young boy with tousled black hair approached her. His mere presence brought a sense of comfort as if he understood her pain without her having to say a word. He sat beside her, leaning against the same wall, and gently rested his head on his knees just like she did.

Aslan looked at him, her tear-streaked eyes meeting his compassionate gaze. It was as if he wanted her to know that he was there for her, offering his silent support. In that moment, she felt a sense of connection, a bond forged in shared pain and understanding.

No words were spoken between them, but it didn't matter. Aslan could feel the warmth of his presence, and it was enough to ease the ache in her heart. In his silent companionship, she found solace and the strength to carry on.

Standing in the dim corridor, A single tear escaped, slowly making its way down her cheek. Aslan lifted a trembling hand to touch her face, feeling the warmth of the liquid that mirrored the warmth of the memory playing before her.

She tried to blink away the tears, but they continued to flow, unbidden and unstoppable.