For the past few days, Jexy Bakian had done absolutely nothing productive.

From sunrise to sunset, the Chalice of Emberlight’s guild hall buzzed with activity—  

Velna darting in and out chasing tiny bounty slips, Tyria hauling sacks of monster hides, and even the usually lazy Zerik pretending to research quest logistics.  

They were all trying to climb their way out of F-rank obscurity.

Jexy watched them through the cracked window, swirling a glass of watered-down ale with mild disgust.  

“Picking up lost goblin ears for pocket change,” he muttered. “This realm truly rewards ambition.”

Lyssara had given him a speech that morning about “teamwork” and “earning reputation,”  

but halfway through, his brain had already checked out.  

By noon, the spoiled heir had quietly slipped out the back door.

The tavern he wandered into was a noisy den of crimson light and laughter.  

A dozen succubi swayed between tables, their laughter like music, their eyes like traps.  

It was called **The Velvet Cauldron**, and every patron knew it was where good sense went to die.

Jexy sat at the center of it, comfortably surrounded by three of the tavern’s finest.  

They poured him drinks, leaned close, whispered flattery that he didn’t believe but enjoyed anyway.  

Gold coins clinked across the table like raindrops.

“Another round!” he said cheerfully. “And one for everyone else!”

The entire tavern cheered.  

Some shouted thanks, some just raised their mugs, and a few—lurking in the darker corners—watched his overflowing coin pouch with narrowed eyes.

Meanwhile, **Rhazel Vornik**, the dragon-blooded warrior of the same guild, was wandering past on his way back from a job.  

He caught sight of the chaos inside and groaned.

“Of course he’s here.”

He pushed open the door, the smell of liquor hitting him like a punch.  

At the center, surrounded by admirers, sat Jexy—laughing, glowing, and irresponsibly rich.

“Hey! You trying to bankrupt the guild in one night?” Rhazel shouted, making his way through the crowd.

“Ah, brother Rhazel!” Jexy beamed, slapping the seat beside him. “Come, join me! You look thirsty!”

“I *am* thirsty,” the dragonborn admitted, “but mostly for answers.”

“Answers can wait. Drinks can’t.” Jexy waved for more.  

Moments later, they were clinking mugs and howling in laughter like they’d been friends for years.  

Gold scattered again, bouncing across the floor.

Rhazel shook his head but didn’t stop him. “You’ve got guts showing this much gold in the open.”

“In the human world,” Jexy replied lazily, “that might be dangerous.  

In the demon realm, it’s *entertainment.*”

“Entertainment for who?” Rhazel asked.

Jexy smirked. “Whoever’s stupid enough to test me.”

Outside the tavern, a few shadows detached themselves from the walls.  

Rough-looking demons—horns cracked, eyes gleaming with greed—followed the two men as they stumbled out, laughing, looking for their “next stop.”

They didn’t have to wait long.

As Jexy and Rhazel crossed into the next street, one of the demons lunged from the side alley, blade glinting.  

Rhazel’s instincts flared. He shoved Jexy aside and caught the strike with his scaled forearm—steel screeched against dragon hide.

“Ambush,” he snarled.

Five more emerged, circling like wolves.  

Their leader grinned, teeth jagged and yellow. “You two had a good time in there. Hand over the gold and we’ll let you keep your limbs.”

Jexy dusted his shoulder, completely unfazed. “Ah, finally. I was wondering when the inevitable mugging would start.”

“Don’t play dumb, rich boy,” the demon sneered. “You flash money in this district, it belongs to everyone.”

Rhazel stepped forward, fists crackling with red aura. “Try taking it.”

But Jexy raised a hand. “Wait.”

Everyone froze.  

Even the street wind seemed to pause, curious what this madman would say.

Jexy smiled lazily. “Why waste time fighting? You want money, right? Then let’s make it fun.”

The bandits exchanged confused glances. “Fun?”

“Yeah. There’s a tavern right ahead,” he said, pointing down the street. “We’ll have a drinking contest.  

You win, you take it all. Every coin I’ve got.  

We win, you leave us alone and buy the next round.”

Rhazel’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious about alcohol,” Jexy replied smoothly.

The gang hesitated.  

They weren’t used to anyone *negotiating* robbery terms—much less turning it into a drinking challenge.  

But their leader, prideful and reckless, spat on the ground and grinned. “Fine. You’re on, pretty boy. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

---

The street had grown crowded by then.  

Other guild members, drunk mercenaries, and curious onlookers gathered to watch the bizarre negotiation unfold.  

Someone shouted, “They’re settling it in the bar!” and suddenly half the block was following them.

The tavern they entered next was even louder, the air thick with the smell of ale and fire oil.  

Tables were cleared. Barrels rolled in.  

The owner just shrugged—chaos was still business.

On one side of the table sat Jexy and Rhazel, both smiling like lunatics.  

On the other sat six angry demons, flexing their claws.

“First one to drop loses!” shouted the barkeep.

Jexy lifted his mug, eyes glinting under the firelight. “Gentlemen, to peace, prosperity—”

“And incredibly poor decisions,” Rhazel added.

“Cheers!” the room roared.

Dozens of mugs slammed together, and the contest began.

Outside, the noise of cheering and breaking glass echoed down the street.  

The night in Solneva had just begun—  

and none of the onlookers knew that one of the drunkards at the center of the madness  

was the most dangerous man in the Demon Realm—  

a man no one recognized,  

and who preferred to keep it that way.