Reborn Financier-Chapter 14: Money Demon

The casino in the basement was a cesspit of dirt, sweat, and despair. It was a den that was full of all kinds of individuals—gangsters who had muscular arms and black eyes, homeless individuals who had nothing but the shirt on their back, and gamblers who were trapped in the vicious cycle of gambling addiction. There was the strong stench of smoke which seems to be a cigarette but something more potent and cheap liquor that filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of coins and the raucous laughter.

Kaidën maneuver his way through the chaos, his cloaked figure a plain young man. No one gave him a second look, as he had planned. His dark magic had given him the indulgence of altering his shape, hiding his own face. To the world at large, he was a young man—a tall, slender, inconspicuous young man. In truth, though, his magic was failing due to his low mana capacity, and if he kept up the disguise much longer, it would fall apart.

Not that it made any difference, as he had only come to collect his winnings, which should not be problematic, right!.

****

At the far end of the hall, a few of the men were clustered over a wooden counter, counting piles of gold coins. They laughed and smiled among themselves, wealthy at the fortune they had gained on the last bout. The duel between the Mad Giant and the sword bearer had drawn much more bets and loss than expected, swelling the wealth of the owners of the betting house more than it ever was to.

He walked towards them, his face serene but authoritative.

"I have come to claim my reward. I betted on the sword expert, and I won. Here is the evidence."

He passed a small betting slip over the counter. The men gazed at him, their faces blank for a moment—then they growled. A big man with a thick beard and numerous missing teeth took the slip, read it, then ripped it in half with a wave of his hand.

"You lost, kid. You wagered on Mad Giant and still owe us 500 gold pieces."

They smiled, already turning away as if the matter was resolved.

Kaidën didn’t bat an eyelash. Rather, he let out a low, measured laugh—a laugh that sent the chills running through the air. It was not the laugh of a man who had just been robbed. It was the laugh of a villain, the laugh of a man who was completely in control of the situation.

The men tensed.

"What’s the joke?" one of them growled, irritation in his voice.

Kaidën’s laughter stopped, his features darkening. His voice was glacial, deadly.

"Two of mine you don’t touch."

He lifted one finger. "One—my family."

He raised another. "Two—my money."

He immediately picked up a glass bottle that was on the ground nearby and smashed it into the speaker’s face before any of them could act. The man screamed in a choked voice as glass cut into his face.

Pandemonium erupted.

The other thugs leapt at his feet, drawing weapons—daggers, sticks, and rusty machetes. They twisted their faces up in fury as they struck at him.

Kaidën was smiling, though.

Fools

The first attacker slashed a machete straight into his head. Kaidën jumped, landing on the man’s shoulders, balancing there for a brief moment with fluid grace before kicking him in the crown of his head, sending him crashing to the ground.

The others pushed him forward in a mob, guns flashing in the low lights. But to Kaidën, it was all play.

He danced, weaved, and dodged around their punches, his movements loose and almost sloppy. A knife slashed across his cheek, but he evaded the blade with ease, responding with a nasty elbow that caused a thug to stumble back.

"This is fun," he said to himself, laughing as he played with them.

His laughter made them even angrier.

One of them clubbed him over his ribs. Kaidën had the man’s wrist clutched in the air and was twisting it around. The second scream was music to his ears. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Minutes passed, and the gangsters began to tire. Their punches were wild, their breathing heavy. Their exhaustion was palpable.

Kaidën gave a dramatic sigh. "What’s happening? You’re lagging, lagging. This is boring—alrigh’, let’s play for real."

The men stiffened.

Their arms fell into stiffening positions, their eyes open in horror as they realized they could not move. They were frozen.

Kaidën stepped closer, quietly, step by step.

"A demon. he’s a demon!" one of them shouted.

He growled, grabbing the hair of the closest gangster. With a swing of his sword, he decapitated him. Blood splashed on the ground as the corpse fell.

The others tried to scream, but their throats were frozen in fear.

He read them one by one.

Each of the murders was slow, calculated, deliberate.

By the time he had reached the last two remaining, they quaked with fear, their eyes wildly searching the door.

Kaidën knelt before them, his eyes dully shining in the dark. "Where is my money?"

One of them, trying to talk, gestured to a wooden chest in the corner of the room.

Kaidën moved forward, opened the lid, and whistled low. There was gold in the chest.

He laughed, scooping up a handful of coins and tossing them over his shoulder with flair. "Pleasure doing business with you."

And, smiling, he just walked out of the front door as if nothing was amiss.

Behind him, the other two gangsters collapsed to the floor, their trance finally broken. Their bodies twitched, their minds shattered.

They had survived it—but never would they ever be able to forget what they had seen.

****

Kaidën returned home, drifting in through the window like a specter. The evening air was chilly, and he glowed with excitement for his new blood hunger.

But the moment his feet touched the wooden floor, his senses shrieked.

Someone was inside.

Kaidën’s face changed in a heartbeat. His fists tightened, his fingers instinctively seeking a weapon.

One figure stood motionless in the darkened room.

Waiting for him.

Kaidën’s eyes narrowed. Who is this?

And most of all. What would be next?

To be continued...