I Die to Rise: Resurrection System-Chapter 101: Gods of gambling and scams!

Guards bowed as VIP guests entered the auction hall. Inside, a massive stage dominated the center of the room, surrounded by tiered seating that looked more like an opera house than a prison facility.

The moment Cassandra stepped through the entrance, it was as though everyone stopped breathing for a moment. Women and men alike turned to stare, conversations dying mid-sentence.

’Thank you, gods of gambling and scams’, Kurt thought, lips twitching. You beautiful, treacherous bastards actually delivered.

It was the perfect distraction, their gazes glued to her like she was the only thing worth looking at in the entire bloody room, and Kurt didn’t let it go to waste.

He snapped the cuffs around his wrists with brute force instantly, metal breaking apart with barely a sound, and moved toward Razor to do the same.

But he found even Razor at the moment completely dumbfounded like the rest, mouth hanging slightly open and eyes locked on Cassandra.

Kurt had to yank him away quickly, dragging him toward the staff prep room Lena had been taken to. Snapping Razor’s cuffs would have to wait.

He slipped out the stolen key card and placed it against the scanner. The door hissed open, revealing Lena kneeling in front of the guard, her fingers on his zipper while he fumbled desperately with his belt buckle.

The guard’s helmet was off, sitting on a counter behind Lena. He was breathing heavy with glazed eyes, face flushed and stupid with lust.

"So that’s what they look like under the bucket?" Kurt said with a grin.

"Nasty," Razor replied in a mocking tone.

The guard spun around. "Hey, what the—"

Before he could finish, Lena’s hand shot upward like a striking cobra. Her palm struck the underside of his jaw so hard Kurt heard teeth crack, and the guard dropped like a sack of potatoes, out cold instantly.

"Took you long enough," Lena said, standing up and dusting off the knee area of her pants. "For the record, I definitely was not about to blow him."

"You weren’t?" Kurt asked playfully while snapping Razor’s restraints with his bare hands. "Because the zipper, and the belt, and the knees..." He gestured all over with his hands.

Lena simply shot him a wicked grin.

"How did you even know he was going to fold like that?" Kurt asked, genuinely impressed.

Lena lifted herself over the counter and sat on it, crossing one leg over the other. "I could practically smell the virginity and anxiety coming off him from twenty feet away. Great combo for an easy target."

"Let’s move it," Razor said, already stripping the guard of his uniform. Vest, armor, baton, everything. Then he began putting them on.

Among the guard’s items was a small notepad and a pen.

"Hey." Razor held up the notepad and pen. "We could use this to write a note to that pretty, fancy friend of yours, and I could pass it to her."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. It was a good idea—let Cassandra know the plan had changed. But he couldn’t help but wonder if Razor’s intentions were a bit less altruistic.

"You’re just looking for an excuse to get close to her, aren’t you, you horny bastard?" Kurt said with a smile.

"Yeah, no shit." Razor grabbed the notepad and pen. "So what’s the message?"

Kurt dictated, and Razor scribbled it down: Auction’s a bust. New plan. Follow my lead. —Kurt.

"That’s that." Razor tore out the paper and tucked it into his uniform pocket.

Then he grabbed the helmet and tried putting it on, but it wouldn’t budge. His bloody mohawk was in the way.

"The hair’s gotta go," Lena offered sweetly, slipping down from the counter.

Razor kept struggling. "Just—fuck—hold still—" He kept trying, even knowing it was futile, shoving the helmet down with both hands.

Lena lifted her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, her claws extended. Three inches of razor-sharp keratin popped out from her fingertips. "The hair’s gotta go," she repeated.

"No! Not the mohawk! Anything but the mohawk!" Razor yelled, but Kurt immediately clamped a hand over his mouth while holding him down.

"Sorry, mate," Kurt said as Lena swiped once, then twice, cleaving the hair completely.

Kurt let Razor go, and he dropped to the floor, grabbing pieces of his fallen mohawk like he was mourning its death. He practically stared at the pile of red hair on the tiles like someone had just murdered his childhood pet.

He grabbed the helmet and shoved it on. "Fuck you guys," he growled, voice muffled and distorted once the helmet finally locked into place. He looked every inch the faceless Circle guard now.

With the helmet on, he had completely transitioned from prisoner to guard.

"Not bad," Lena said with a grin while adjusting his uniform to make sure it covered up his collar. Then she moved toward the door. "It’s almost time. We’ve gotta sell it, make it look good."

"And this poor wanker?" Kurt pointed to the still-unconscious guard slumped against the wall.

Lena turned around and gave Kurt a sly grin. "He won’t be getting up anytime soon."

With that, she and Razor left the room, leaving Kurt behind.

***

"Back in line, convict!" Razor barked, grabbing Lena’s arm roughly.

And she played along perfectly, stumbling slightly like her legs had turned to jelly. "Give me a second. I can barely stand, let alone walk."

Some of the guards who heard this acknowledged a disguised Razor with howls or taps on the shoulder.

"You dog," one guard said.

"Don’t let the Warden catch wind of this," another muttered.

Razor gave them a stiff nod and kept moving, escorting Lena toward the auction floor like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Before he dropped her off, she said to him, "find Urm. Big bull guy, hangs out with the Minaris, you can’t miss him."

"Always wanted to be part of decent prison Riot," he said with a smile to Lena and stepped naturally into a flow of guards escorting VIP guests toward the hall.

As he moved, one of them nodded at him. "Processing done?"

"Almost," Razor replied through the helmet filter, and kept walking toward the auction floor.

When he arrived, he needed a moment to take it all in.

The auction hall was massive. Rows of luxury seating surrounded a central stage, and overhead, a giant display screen flickered to life. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm light across velvet cushions and polished wood.

Ahead, the voice of the Warden echoed through the chamber. "Ladies and gentlemen... welcome." The lights dimmed slightly and he continued. "Today’s auction will begin shortly."

Across the hall, Razor spotted Cassandra. She’d taken her seat near the front, crossing one leg over the other as she studied the stage with a growing smile.

Razor stepped behind her chair as if checking security and leaned in carefully. Even in a relaxed state, Cassandra radiated a killing intent that made his instincts scream danger. So he had to be careful with his approach.

"Kurt Manchester," he whispered.

At the name, Cassandra uncrossed her legs. Without looking back, she muttered, "Speak."

Razor retrieved the slip of paper and dropped it beside her glass. "Plan’s changed, love."

Cassandra slid the note into her palm, read it, and her smile widened.

Razor’s job was done. So he made his way out of the Inner Circle and headed back toward the Walk.

***

Meanwhile, Kurt grabbed the unconscious guard by his singlet and punched him again in the face for good measure. Then he shoved the body into a locker and slammed it shut.

A portal opened on the floor right next to Kurt’s feet, and another portal appeared on the ceiling of the Warden’s office, connecting both points.

He stretched one arm up through the rift. The limb thinned as it extended, narrowing until it was little more than a length of wire, silently snaking along the ceiling of the Warden’s office above.

As it moved, his fingers spread wide and formed eyes, each nerve ending acting like a tiny sensor. Through them, Kurt searched for cameras.

Then he found it. Mounted high in the corner, the security camera turned slowly on its bracket. Its small red light blinked with lazy indifference as the lens swept across the office, watching everything.

"Slow and steady now," Kurt said from the staff prep room, carefully and patiently guiding the stretched limb forward.The arm slid along the ceiling until it reached the camera’s natural blind spot.

From there, the fingers crept closer, inch by inch, until they curled around the back of the lens like a python coiling around prey. Then Kurt tightened his grip and squeezed.

Crunch!

Glass crunched softly between his fingers, and a tiny spark spat from the crushed wiring as the red light died instantly. The Warden’s precious office was officially blind.

Successfully disabling the Warden’s camera, Kurt retracted his arm and stepped through the portal, dropping down into the office and landing on the floor with a soft thud. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

His eyes swept the office, and it was exactly as cold and arrogant as he’d imagined. Dark wood furniture. A massive desk cluttered with paperwork. Shelves of leather-bound books. And against the far wall sat the system terminal.

"There we go." Kurt rubbed his palms together and dropped into the chair, settling in like he owned the place.

He powered on the system and cracked his knuckles with an exaggerated gesture, fingers interlocking before stretching them out.

The screen lit up, and predictably, there was a password prompt.

Kurt stared at it. He had absolutely no idea how to crack it. "This is what winging it gets you." Kurt sighed, face-palming himself.

His fingers hovered hesitantly over the keyboard, brain already racing through every trick he knew when a soft beep echoed through the office, forcing his gaze to shift away from the screen and towards the door.

Kurt froze as the door lock disengaged. Someone was coming in.

"Bollocks."