Will of the Battlefield

The bright light illuminated the interior, its sparkling flashes dancing across the glass-crafted decor.

The entire casino, once resounding with a cacophony of noise, had fallen silent. The only sound left came from the fat man.

The man was not small in frame. He stood at 6’2, with a pot belly and a toothbrush moustache curled over his lips.

His neck was buried beneath a double chin, his fat cheeks flushed red as he agonized in pain.

His blessing seemed to be on fire. His skill had something to do with his charcoal-blackened hand, now crushed under the firm, unyielding grip of Hawk.

Hawk was a man of calm demeanor. His actions carried a cold air. He spoke little, and only when necessary.

His hand, fingertips, up to his arm, had turned into diamond, one of the toughest materials on the continent.

He stood at six feet, with the body of an athlete. Not too lanky, not too bulky. The kind of physique one might expect from a manager of a refined establishment.

Everyone saw how the man who claimed to be the brother of a Baron was crying.

There were eyes, many eyes. Some watched with excitement. Some did not care and only wanted to resume their game.

Others were slightly afraid and silently hoped for the fat man to win. They were the ones who had lost almost all their money and wanted chaos to erupt.

However, their hopes were crushed along with the man’s hand.

"Who sent you?" Hawk asked.

Those three words shifted the entire scene. The blame now fell fully on the fat man.

Hawk had successfully painted the picture that he had intentionally caused the uproar.

Human minds are delicate.

If you use the right moment and feed them the right idea, they will accept it. The subconscious is most vulnerable during moments of disturbance, just like now.

In such times, if you expose a specific idea to the mind, it can settle in as truth. Not for everyone, but for most.

"Is he really the brother of a Baron?" one man asked.

"I don’t know. I’ve never seen him in the capital," another replied.

"He said he’s the brother of Baron Edward. Do you know any Baron like that?"

"No. He must be some hillbilly noble."

"Don’t be mistaken. Baron Edward is well known. But his brother is a gambler. A stain on his name."

Voices spread like wildfire. Every mouth had something to say, and the fat man heard it all.

"I won’t let you off after this. You’ll answer to my brother," he shouted angrily, spit flying from his lips.

Hawk loosened his grip slightly, and the fat man smiled. He thought he had won.

Then Hawk spoke.

"Just now, in front of several esteemed guests, you threatened this casino in the name of Baron Edward.

If anything happens to this establishment, he will be held accountable."

The fat man’s eyes widened.

"Haha, stupid pig," chuckled a man wearing a blank mask. It had no design, just plain white.

They understood exactly what had happened.

Max smirked. "Look at this guy. He’s learning my ways," he muttered.

The fat man’s eyes grew watery. For a moment, he forgot the pain in his hand.

"What have I done?" he whispered to himself.

That fool had dragged his brother into this mess.

"I take it back. My brother has nothing to do with this," he said, his voice trembling. He was defeated, not just physically, but mentally as well.

Hawk shook his head. "It’s useless."

He pointed in a direction, and all heads turned.

There, floating slightly above a pedestal, was a palm-sized, multi-faceted prism. It resembled a stretched diamond, tapering toward the end.

Its surfaces were perfectly symmetrical, unnaturally precise. Inside, faint ring patterns floated like frozen ripples of time. Its base color was deep indigo.

"A crystal?" someone asked.

"You fools. That’s a Chrono Crystal. It records moments," another replied.

"A Chrono Crystal?" gasps spread.

"It’s my first time seeing one. It’s beautiful. How expensive is it?"

"Too expensive for us."

"I’ve seen them in the capital, but never in a place like this."

"Look at the silver threads inside. That means it’s recording."

Surprise spread across the room. No one expected a slum-side casino to possess such an item.

"What an interesting place. Even a Chrono Crystal," said another man wearing a blank mask.

Max, with his unnaturally sharp hearing, caught the comment. He turned his head and found the man already looking at him.

Max raised his cup slightly in greeting.

The masked man nodded back.