Chapter 7: The Game Begins

In the yard of Richter’s mansion, Butler Konrad Adlerfürst and Miss Jenny Nachtdorn were engaged in a fierce fight involving sabers. Ever since she lost her mother, Jenny had sworn revenge—a vow that drove her to take martial arts training early on. Her main instructor had been none other than Konrad, who, to best serve his employer in all regards, had dedicated considerable time to mastering various fighting styles.

The butler thrust forward, and Jenny blocked with a hanging parry while stepping backward. Their forms were elegant and smooth, honed over years of practice. Every parry, every riposte, every cut, and every thrust were timed perfectly, showcasing their honed skill. Jenny used her poker face and minimalistic movement to strike deceptively, just as Konrad had taught her. She varied the timing of each strike, slowing down and speeding up at just the right moments to mislead her opponent.

Jenny knew that the key to winning battles was to deceive the enemy. There was an eastern manuscript she had heard of that said, “All warfare is based on deception.”

Konrad had fought alongside and against Jenny for years now and was in harmony with her deceptive strikes. He responded with cautious but deliberate counterstrikes, rarely falling for her feints. They moved like dancers, perfectly in sync, their blades ringing out in the crisp morning air.

Yet there was one difference: age. As the duel wore on, Jenny’s youthful endurance began to show. Sweat dripped down her brow, but she pushed through, focusing on her breathing and the rhythm of the fight. Step by step, she pressed her advantage, forcing Konrad back until, with a final feint and a swift cut, she disarmed him, sending his saber clattering to the ground.

Konrad was breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his brow. “It would appear,” he said, shaking out his aching hand, “that I can barely keep up with you anymore, Lady Nachtdorn.”

Jenny lowered her blade, chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She smiled softly, bowing with a flourish. “I had the best teacher,” she said, meeting his gaze.

“Indeed,” Dravisha purred from the sidelines, breaking the tension. “What marvelous form you two have. Those deceptive strikes will work excellently when enhanced with a bit of shadow magic, my little witch.” Her amber eyes gleamed as she nodded thoughtfully, already planning new lessons tailored to Jenny’s capabilities.

“Sir Richter has a present for you, Lady Nachtdorn,” the butler announced. “I would like to present it as a final reward for your mastery at the sword.”

He led them to a small chamber adorned with polished wooden panels and faintly glowing sconces that cast flickering light across the walls. Weapons lined the racks—each meticulously crafted—but one stood apart, draped in a pristine white blanket embroidered with intricate silver runes.

“Lady Nachtdorn,” the butler intoned, gesturing toward the covered sword. “Please, reveal your reward.”

Jenny approached slowly, anticipation building with each step. She reached out, fingers brushing against the cool fabric of the blanket before pulling it away. As the cloth slid off, sunlight streaming through the high windows caught the blade, sending shimmering reflections dancing across the room.

It was a Dussack saber with a shiny polished blade. The black and silver hilt was protective with a shell guard and an integrated thumb ring, allowing for effective slicing cuts. It had a false edge which enhanced the saber’s versatility, enabling nimble reverse cuts and smooth thrusts. The false edge allowed Jenny to deliver good hooking cuts or sneaky upward cuts to exposed hands and wrists.

Jenny gripped the handle firmly, sliding her thumb through the ring as she tested the balance of the blade. The sword was well balanced, slightly more weighted towards the tip for devastating cuts. After practicing a few guards and cuts she sheathed the sword in its scabbard and turned to Konrad. “It feels amazing. Thank you.”

The butler beamed with pride. “We had it made exactly for your style, height, and strength. Sir Richter wished to honor your dedication and skill. He believes this saber will serve you well in the trials ahead.”

“Cute gift.” Dravisha said while approaching the sword. “Did I get something too?”

Jenny shook her head while Konrad looked for a polite way to say no.

“I didn’t realize you were interested in having a weapon,” the butler finally said.

“I don’t,” Dravisha said. “I just don’t like feeling left out.”

Jenny facepalmed.

Later in the afternoon, Dravisha and Jenny were once again in the Crimson Paradise, this time in the VIP lounge. The place had a low ceiling with dim lighting. The felt table in the center was surrounded by six plush seats. A private bar was at the back of the room with red leather stools. Jenny and the other contestants were gathered around the felt table, while Dravisha and the other onlookers were at the bar.

Across the table from Jenny was her father, Aldric, in the Small Blind Chair. He had a weird patch on his ear. His clothes weren’t as immaculate as they used to be. The suit hadn’t quite matched his pants, and the colour palette was off. Jenny surmised that the Nachtdorn estate was in dire straits. Not that she cared.

Her eyes shifted to the others. In the Big Blind Chair was a man with long, curly silver hair and high cheekbones, dressed impeccably in a white-gold suit. Jenny mentally dubbed him “Silver Locks.” Next to him sat a rotund figure with a thick, coarse brown beard, his burgundy attire giving him a rugged air. He became “Big Beard” in her mind. Beside him, a middle-aged woman caught Jenny’s attention; her blond hair was twisted into an elegant updo secured by an ornate clip, and her shimmering green dress paired with pearl earrings exuded sophistication. Jenny labelled her “Blondie.” Finally, there was a man in a slick black suit, his dark grey ponytail and neatly trimmed mustache lending him an air of calculated precision. To Jenny, he was simply “Ponytail.”

All of them had teased her earlier about her age, mocking her as the youngest—and newest—player at the table. But Jenny welcomed their underestimation. Let them think she was out of her depth. It would only make her eventual victory sweeter.

Just as the dealer began shuffling the cards, the door creaked open, drawing everyone’s attention. Two men strode in, their uniforms unmistakable: Inquisitors. They moved with arrogant confidence, their boots clicking against the floor as if claiming ownership of the space. Jenny’s heart rate shot up. Memories of the fire resurfaced, of her mother’s scream. She clutched the edge of the table.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” one of the Inquisitors said smoothly, his voice calm but commanding, “please don’t mind the intrusion. No need to worry. We’re not here on official business. Just think of us as any other spectators and enjoy the game.”

Despite his reassurances, the tension in the room was palpable. Jenny forced herself to breathe deeply, reaching for the brandy she had ordered earlier. She took a large sip, the liquid burning her throat as it settled uneasily in her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the other guests exchanging uneasy glances. Especially her father, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers brushed against the edge of his patch. She had heard rumours from Klaus that Aldric was somehow indebted to the church. They must have been true after all. People on the streets they talk, and while most of it is unreliable hearsay, some of it is pretty good information.

The buy-in was one hundred fifty gold marks, with the grand prize totaling nine hundred. During the first few rounds, Jenny bet low, observing the players carefully. They were seasoned gamblers, none making reckless moves or revealing obvious tells. Silver Locks played loose and aggressive, pushing chips into the pot with bold confidence. Big Beard, on the other hand, folded strategically, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But it was Aldric who caught her off guard—he seemed to anticipate the others’ hands almost too well.

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Her gaze flickered between Aldric and the dealer. There it was: a fleeting glance, a barely perceptible nod. Suspicion flared, and she focused her supernatural senses on the deck. Faint etchings marked each card, no one would be able to see them unless they were close and paid a lot of attention. To her it was glaringly obvious. With a subtle smirk, she began categorizing the cards by their markings, soon deciphering every hand at the table.

Now armed with this advantage, Jenny adjusted her strategy. She played aggressively, raking in chips while keeping her true abilities hidden. Exposing Aldric’s cheating would end the game prematurely, denying her the chance to enact her revenge. Winning was the better play, for now. If she kept him interested, he’d grow complacent, lowering his guard until the perfect opportunity arose. Then she could poison him or find some other opportunity to take him out.

Hugo narrowed his gaze, sweeping the room. His Heretic Seeker ability felt something, detecting traces of heretical energy, but it couldn’t pinpoint the source. Instead, the sensation seemed diffuse, emanating from multiple directions at once.

He focused first on the silver-haired girl in the striking purple dress. There was something off about her—the way she carried herself, perhaps, or the faint shimmer beneath her skin that caught the light unnaturally. Yet when he probed deeper, the feeling shifted, as if her presence were merely a distraction. Suspicion lingered in his gaze as he pulled out his notebook and began sketching her profile.

Jenny felt a chill creep up her spine. It was as if unseen eyes were boring into her, exposing every flaw and secret she tried so desperately to hide. She glanced at the Inquisitor and immediately became self-conscious, her earlier confidence wavering. She dialled back her aggression at the table, biding her time to avoid drawing further attention.

During a break, Jenny approached Dravisha and ordered another brandy. Leaning close, she whispered, “We need a new plan. That Inquisitor’s too observant. We need to isolate my father.”

Dravisha arched an eyebrow, smirking. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Jenny admitted. “I know he’s cheating—him and the dealer are using signals. I could use that to blackmail him, but it’s risky. Alternatively…” She hesitated, glancing at Dravisha. “You could seduce him, get him alone, and then… deal with him.”

“And why would I do that?” Dravisha purred. “Unless you give me something in return.”

“I’m not giving you another part of my name.”

“Then you are on your own. Seduce him yourself.”

“Ew no, he’s my father, I can’t do that.” Jenny sighed. “I could give you something else.”

Dravisha thought about it hard, but couldn’t think of anything else at the moment. “I can’t think of anything I want right now. If you want your father dead, do it yourself or give me another piece of your name.”

“Not happening.” Jenny snapped. There had to be another way. She couldn’t give another part of her name, or Dravisha would have way too much power over her. There were always more ways to kill her father, but making a deal with a demon was permanent and not easily changeable.

She went back to the table and played poker. Both she and her father were racking up wins while the others were slowly bleeding chips. After about half an hour into the game, she felt a sudden movement at her legs. She peeked down to see Dravisha, who had apparently crawled under the table undetected while using shadow magic to blend into the darkness. All Jenny could really see while peeking down were her round eyes.

Jenny had no idea what that demoness was thinking. A small folded paper appeared beside her knee, nudged gently by Dravisha’s gloved hand. The faint rustle of paper against fabric sent a shiver up Jenny’s spine. She scanned the room quickly, ensuring no one noticed. Satisfied, she unfolded the note and read its contents.

It was a new contract. The terms were simple yet devastating: Jenny could not have sexual relations with anyone but Dravisha. In essence, the contract denied her the possibility of ever forming an intimate connection with someone she could genuinely love. She knew Dravisha didn’t care for her beyond domination; this wasn’t about affection—it was about control.

Her heart pounded as she considered the implications. Signing meant surrendering any hope of love, of normalcy. Yet, what was normalcy worth when weighed against her mother’s memory? Every step forward felt like shedding another piece of herself, but she couldn’t turn back now. Not when she’d come so far.

Vengeance was a path of destruction, and bringing love into the equation would only complicate things. Love required trust, vulnerability—things she couldn’t afford. With a steadying breath, Jenny pricked her finger with a needle, wincing slightly as a bead of blood welled up. She pressed it firmly onto the contract, sealing her fate.

The contract disappeared with a puff. Dravisha’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction. She now had even more control over her little witch, and she needed to celebrate, beginning with a peck to Jenny’s thigh. Followed by a kiss. The witch didn’t protest, and Dravisha got bolder. Slowly, she trailed kisses up Jenny’s thigh until her head was fully underneath the Witch’s dress.

Jenny had not expected the Demoness’s sudden sexual advances. She could stop them right now, if she wanted to. It was way too dangerous, especially with the Inquisitors watching. But somehow that turned her on even more. She loved the dangerous environment, and Dravisha’s kisses along her thigh felt so good.

She had to stay focused on the cards. She did her best to remain concentrated until suddenly she felt a lick on her private parts. Jenny did her best not to make a noise.

Dravish pushed aside Jenny’s wet panties and began to lick up her already leaking juices. They tasted good on her tongue; they had a hint of blackberry. Her nose firmly pressed against Jenny’s clit inhaled the musky smell of her pheremones. She could feel the Witch’s body heating up and her restless squirming. It aroused her tremendously. She pulled up her own dress and began to rub herself while continuing to lick Jenny’s pussy.

Jenny's face was contorted in a tight grimace as she focused all her energy on continuing the game while not making a peep. Her thighs squeezed together, pulling the Demoness’s head more into her. She held the ledge of the poker table tightly and continued to call, raise or fold.

Dravisha slipped her serpent-like demon tongue deep inside Jenny’s tight cave, roaming about and exploring every crevice. Every shudder that went through the Witch’s body delighted her. The pace at which she rubbed her own pussy increased rapidly. She slipped three fingers in, wanting to pleasure herself even more.

Jenny’s performance decreased; she lost out on precise calculation. She often overbid or underbid and was starting to bleed chips, but she didn’t care. She was still way too far ahead and surely would climax soon.

Aldric was studying the silver-haired woman intently, so far she had been able to maintain a lead despite him cheating. He took out his Sanguine Prism, an artifact that could drain the energy and life force of others at the cost of corrupting the user. He used it in poker to make his opponents exhausted, making them slip in concentration. Carefully, he pointed it towards the woman and began slightly draining her energy.

Dravisha felt a sudden force drain her energy. It wasn’t much, but it was noticeable. She pulled her head out of Jenny’s dress and turned around, where she noticed a small red gem in the hands of Aldric, pointed towards her and draining her. Interest and curiosity immediately sparked in her eyes. She wanted that gem. Now she had even more reasons to kill Aldric. She summoned a small shadow barrier to block the life-draining beam and put her head back underneath Jenny’s dress to continue the cunnilingus.

Jenny breathed heavily, and her skin was soaked with sweat. Her needy pussy was suddenly left empty and it made her feel frustrated. She wanted to climax desperately, but the Demoness had left her high and dry.

“Feeling nervous.” Aldric teased.

Jenny shook her head, “It’s just a bit warm in here.”

She had noticed a sadistic edge to his tone, but she didn’t know why, and so scrubbed it from her mind. Demoness’ head slipped back inside her dress, and she felt satisfied again. She placed her hand over the top of the Demoness’ head and pulled it back inside her cave. She shuddered slightly as the long tongue gave her the pleasure she so desperately craved.

Aldric's plays became more aggressive, his raises left her in tight spots sometimes, and often she didn’t have the presence of mind to make good judgments. It was as if he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state, which left her questioning if he was aware of what was occurring underneath the table. That would be terrible, disgusting and embarrassing all rolled into one. She needed to finish quickly.

She could feel her climax approach. An orgasm would be catastrophic for her. She needed to contain her climax. Her back arched slightly, and she did everything to contain her movements as her floodgates opened. She felt herself squirt a lot, her entire body barely holding itself back from shaking.

Dravisha's mouth was wide open as she slurped up all of the juices. The amount of liquid that flooded her aroused her so incredibly much that she herself found herself in an orgasm. Her own pussy squirted all over the floor underneath the pokertable. Luckily, as a Demoness, she would never get herself dirty. She was always in pristine condition.