9 Circles - Round 4 vs Casino Carmada (Part 3)

Callidora nearly swooned as her head spun with the possibilities. A free pass to the final round, the glory of Olympus, a second life with her husband…Wouldn’t any of those outweigh a simple piece of sardonyx?

“There you are, you cheating bastard!”

Before Callidora could surrender her jewel, the sound of heavy footsteps thundered towards them. A figure jumped down from overhead, one hand holding tight to her worker’s hat while the other had a grip on her unsheathed blade. Mull crashed down between them, and before Van could react, whack! She swung her sword fast, slicing his arm off at the elbow. The detached limb burned and smoked, writhing in silent agony before melting into ash and dust with a soft poof.

“Thought you could pull a fast one over on us, did you?” Mull accused, redirecting her sword to Van’s face. By this point, the rest of the contestants had caught up with them, and none seemed too pleased with their host for the round.

“Now, now, no need to be hasty with that sword of yours, my dear,” Van laughed nervously. “C-Casinos are fickle businesses to operate, aren’t they? The house always has a trick up its sleeve, and--”

As if on cue, a piece of plastic slipped from Van’s shredded sleeve as he waved his stump around in desperation. Before it could tumble into the molten golden river around them, Callidora lunged forward and caught it. It was another poker chip. “What’s this about?”

“Six-hundred chips our asses, that’s what!” Byten snapped.

“We couldn’t have turned that casino more inside-out if we tried,” Spencer continued. “Best we could manage was 299.”

“¡Se parece al tramposo tenía la ficha finalmente!” Creep added, crawling up to Van and circling him like a demonic vulture. The Infernal cackled, all of its teeth bared in a bloodthirsty smile. “¿Hace la norma de ‘no asesinato’ está en vigor?”

“Contestants, please, we can all be civil about this little mess!” Van pleaded. He scrambled away from Creep, trying to find refuge hiding behind Callidora. “Calli, my little Grecian goddess, stand up for me, won’t you? Whether I played by the rules or not, you hold that infamous 301st chip! I can personally escort you down the Styx – you alone can move forward to finish the competition and face Lucifer! All you have to do is say the word, my dear, and the dominions of Hell are yours!”

Callidora glanced down at the plastic disc still between her fingers. Wouldn’t it be so easy? Surely, she would confront Lucifer at the end if the rest of the competition were stranded in Circle Four. Sailing through Circles Five through Eight completely uncontested sounded like a dream come true.

Coyly, she offered to return the chip. As Van reached out to take it, though, she turned around and drove her elbow hard into his jaw. Bone and cartilage popped under the pressure, and while the gambler was dazed, Callidora delivered a hard tackle that sent him tumbling down the unconquerable mountain into the crashing rapids of the molten golden river below.

I didn’t come this far just to cheat. I came to win.

“Ouch, nice hit, Athens,” Byten complimented with a chuckle.

“I certainly hope that doesn’t cost me points with Lucifer later,” Callidora said. “He never specified the rules about murdering judges.”

“If it makes you feel better, Byten and I did quite a number to Sann last round,” Spencer informed her. “If anything, it makes us a little more even.”

“If the rest of us even get to keep playing,” Sange pouted. “Cheating or no cheating, Van had a point - you’ve got 301 chips. The rest of us can’t win.”

Callidora looked down at the piece of emerald plastic still held tight in her fist, then over at her helmet and the other three-hundred discs it held. “How many did the rest of you manage?”

Spencer and Byten held 172 between them, while Creep and Sange each held 44, leaving the last 37 to Mull. The Athenian warrior retrieved her helmet, slowly counting out the colorful pieces of plastic as she distributed them.  She handed another 28 to Spencer and Byten, 56 each to Creep and Sange, and 62 to Mull.

“Now we’re square,” Callidora said, handing the final chip, her infamous 301st, to Mull. “That leaves each of us with a hundred exactly. The next judge can’t possibly deny us if there was a six-way tie, could they?”

“Hell, I’ve got half a mind to just Sparta-kick the next judge into this stupid gold river and start rushing down to Circle Nine for myself,” Byten argued, mimicking the dramatic kick against the air. Creep, with his mask returning him to muteness, excitedly matched the motion with a few excited kicks and flips of his own. “Yeah, see, Creep knows what I’m saying!”

“Oh, and the judges for Circles Six, Seven, and Eight wouldn’t catch you?” Spencer pointed out.

“Come on, this Styx River thing goes on forever, there’d be plenty of room for me to Sparta-kick more judges off of platforms.”

While Spencer and Byten continued to bicker, Mull took the moment to approach Callidora. “Thanks,” the sprite said, offering a grateful tip of her hat. “I owe you one.”

Callidora returned the nod. “Consider us even. I should thank my stars you and the others appeared when you did. Besides, a contest to the death may not be the best place to take on life-debts.”

“Yeah, guess that’s true. I like the sound of being even.”

Callidora couldn’t help but raise a brow. “How did you know to come find Van for the final chip?”

Mull suddenly averted her gaze. “Oh! Oh, you know, just a little…I-I just figured…”

While Mull stammered for an answer, Callidora gave her a thorough look over, more than the initial glances they exchanged in the Circle of Gluttony. At first, she thought that Mull was simply new to the contest, that her overall cleanliness was due to a lack of combat. (After all, the sprite wasn’t among them leaving Minos’ courtroom so many rounds ago, and she didn’t recall seeing the Templar pattern of her robes amongst the dead.) Upon closer look, though, that didn’t seem to be the case. Something else was causing her to radiate with some kind of purity, something that caused her to stand out from the rest of the contestants.

She turned an eye to Mull’s blade, which shone in the darkness not unlike the enchanted xiphos currently hovering at her side. Could it be that she wasn’t alone? Were there others amongst their ranks sent to deal with Lucifer on behalf of their gods?

“Call it a woman’s intuition,” Mull finally answered with a sheepish grin.

Callidora gave her a nod. “Very well, then.” Whatever the answer, it would reveal itself in time.

“We’d better go catch up with the others; who knows when that next judge is going to show up, right?” With another polite tip of her hat, Mull bounded off to rejoin the group.

Still, Callidora hung back. After so many rounds of blindly battling, she had almost forgotten her mission. True, she was here as a warrior of Athens, sent by Athena herself to do away with the king of darkness that sits on his throne in the lowest trenches of hell. But she was also here as a scorned bride, risking life and limb on little more than the promise she might exchange one more kiss with her beloved Theron.

She pulled her necklace loose once more, admiring the black and crimson stripes of the sardonyx pendant in the shimmering gold of the circle. Why was Van so hungry for it? Was there not enough gold and wealth left in this circle? In a waterfall of precious gems, was he so desperate for a single sardonyx? It all begged the same question, the one she had asked over and over again since the day its copper cord found its way around her neck. Only this time, she feared she would not want to know the answer.

Theron, where did you get this necklace?