Neophyte began counting his ammunition and found that he had eighteen bullets—the exact number of enemies in the buildings.
Sheson stood before Neophyte, smirking.
"I'll be waiting for you at the end of the zone. If you don't make it out, your friend dies, you beautiful clown."
Neophyte smiled as he glanced at Nialen and said,
"No one's dying today except for that whore I already killed."
Sheson burst into loud laughter, slamming his hand on the table and wiping away tears of amusement.
"You're really starting to grow on me, clown."
He stood up from his chair, patted Neophyte's shoulder, and added,
"Let's see if your skills are just talk or the real deal."
Neophyte exited through the gate, his eyes locking onto the buildings marked in red. He entered the first one, which had four floors.
Moving cautiously, he ascended to the first floor, expecting traps. As he reached the hallway, he noticed a long corridor leading to a staircase going up. He gripped his gun tightly, stepping forward with care—only to accidentally trigger a pressure plate. A barrage of knives shot toward him, but he quickly ducked, avoiding them.
He muttered to himself,
"Do they really come up with stuff like this in this era?"
Continuing to the second floor, Neophyte found the hallway eerily quiet. But as he reached the midpoint, a man grabbed him from behind while another leaped at him from the front, aiming a knife at his stomach.
Neophyte struck the attacker in front of him, forcing him to stumble backward. Both enemies pulled out sharp knives, ready to fight. Neophyte wasted no time, lunging forward. He drove his fist into the first man's stomach, breaking his arm. Then, he struck the second man's hand to disarm him, but the knife didn't drop.
Snatching a blade from the fallen man, Neophyte prepared for battle. The second attacker lunged at him, but Neophyte swiftly struck his throat, then severed his hand—the one holding the knife—before finishing him off by beheading him.
Neophyte muttered to himself,
"No need to waste bullets. Looks like these guys are just puppets."
He climbed to the third floor, which was as silent as the others. But then, a sound behind him caught his attention—a flaming sphere was rolling down from the fourth floor, using a sloped surface to avoid falling straight down, heading directly toward him.
Neophyte sprinted up the stairs, pressing against the wall, his heartbeat racing.
He hadn't expected this. He was prepared for traps from above, below, or even in front, but a rolling fireball from above had caught him off guard.
Reaching the fourth floor, he was met with a monstrous figure sitting atop a corpse, gripping two swords.
The creature rose and turned toward him. It was massive, its face grotesquely disfigured. Without warning, it hurled one of its samurai swords at Neophyte, signaling the start of the fight.
Neophyte grabbed a sword just in time as the beast charged, slashing with such force that half the wall beside the stairs crumbled.
Neophyte moved to strike, but the creature suddenly dashed forward, attempting to stab him. He barely managed to shift direction, but the beast landed a powerful blow to his chest, sending him crashing into the wall.
The impact was painful, but strangely, the pain quickly faded. Neophyte observed the creature carefully—it relied entirely on its hearing. Its face was too mutilated for sight, and it lacked a mouth to make any sound.
Moving silently, Neophyte crept toward its left side before launching a swift attack, severing its left arm.
The monstrous being flailed wildly, unable to scream. It swung aimlessly, and Neophyte cautiously stepped back.
Seconds passed. Silence.
The creature stilled, then began walking slowly.
Neophyte seized the moment, circling to the right and slicing off its remaining arm.
The giant collapsed, utterly powerless.
Neophyte swiftly severed his opponent's head. He sat on the ground for a moment, speaking to himself:
"That giant was terrifying… and skilled with the sword. If he wasn't blind, the fight would have been much harder. He relies on his hearing—when I touched my sword, he reacted immediately and attacked. Truly terrifying… Thank the heavens he was completely disfigured."
Neophyte reached the end of the building, where a slope connected it to the second structure. He slid down the slope and landed in the next building.
At first glance, this building appeared simpler than the first, consisting of only two floors—ground and upper. Unlike the previous structure, which had no rooms, this one had six rooms on the ground floor, three on each side.
Neophyte placed his sword on his back and drew his gun. He checked the first room—empty. The second, third, and fourth—also empty. This meant that if someone was here, they had to be in the fifth or sixth room.
He opened the remaining rooms—nothing. Yet, a strange feeling crept over him. Something was off.
As he climbed the stairs, he was met with a shocking sight—all the rooms were sealed shut with thick iron bars.
While he was halfway down the corridor, he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs—three people, by the sound of it. Neophyte immediately drew his sword. The first person reached the top—Neophyte swung his blade horizontally, slicing them in half.
There was nowhere to hide. He had to improvise.
The remaining two figures emerged, dressed as hunters. Their faces were obscured. One of them glanced at the sword Neophyte had just used to kill their comrade. Without hesitation, the hunter threw a sword toward Neophyte. He caught it midair.
The first hunter fired a shot, while the second charged with a sword. The attack missed and struck the iron bars instead.
Neophyte thought to himself:
"Since when did I gain such speed and precision? My vision… it's like that of a hawk. I can see their movements so clearly… Is this the influence of the Jester? Or is it German?"
The two hunters attacked again. This time, their swords got stuck in the iron bars—exactly what Neophyte had planned. He severed their hands before they could react.
Both hunters attempted to shoot him, but he evaded their bullets with ease. Neophyte then hurled his sword horizontally, decapitating one of them before firing a single bullet into the head of the second.
So far, he had fired only one bullet. Seventeen remained. Twelve targets awaited him.
He glanced down the corridor before heading toward the third building. From a distance, it appeared connected to the others.
How?
Buildings three, four, five, and six were merged into one massive structure. Upon entering, Neophyte realized it was a maze of rooms, staircases, and long corridors—almost like a hotel.
Cautious, he gripped both his sword and gun, whispering:
"Looks like the real hunt is about to begin."
As he stepped toward the next staircase, three figures appeared—one in front of him, two behind, their guns aimed at his head.
The man in front sneered.
"Well, well… it seems we have a special guest. No one has ever made it this far into the mixed building before."
He pointed toward the staircase.
"We're going to play a game. If you win, I'll let you pass to the fourth building."
"And what game is that?" Neophyte asked, eyeing the man carefully. His crimson-red eyes gleamed in the dim light.
The man smirked.
"Finally, you speak. Let's play Blackjack, Jester. If you win, you move forward. If you lose… you'll be executed on the spot."
"Fine, let's begin," Neophyte replied, his voice calm and confident.
They entered a room, where both sat at a table. One gunman aimed his weapon at Neophyte's head, while another dealt the cards.
The red-eyed man grinned.
"Let's see how skilled you really are, Neophyte."
Neophyte had gathered enough information to know how to play this game in his favor.
The dealer distributed the cards.
The man received three cards, while Neophyte received four—a good start.
As they continued drawing, the man ended up with sixteen cards, while Neophyte drew the perfect Blackjack hand.
The man's grin faded, replaced by rage.
Sensing danger, Neophyte suddenly leaned back, slamming his chair into the gunman behind him. In the same motion, he drew his gun and shot the dealer before aiming at the red-eyed man's hand, forcing him to drop his weapon.
He quickly turned and finished off the gunman behind him. The red-eyed man clutched his bleeding hand in pain.
Neophyte smirked.
"I expected a dirty trick from you, bastard. That's why I'll send you straight to Hades."
He fired a single shot into the man's skull.
Standing over the bodies, Neophyte muttered to himself:
"That bastard had a disgusting look in his eyes from the very beginning."
Suddenly, a strange and ominous voice echoed from an unseen source:
"These are the blessings of the Lord of Gambling."