NOVEL NEXT Chapter 25: The House of Fortunes
It wasn't hard to find them.
While Katrina and Jesse remained at the Ilagron Estate, Lukas had brought the Kraken who was more than glad to finally leave the pond he had been ordered to stay in.
The skies above Ilagron were bruised with twilight, casting long shadows over the quiet village.
Lukas strode through the cobbled streets, the weight of Velena's words still clinging to his chest like a shroud. At his side, the Kraken lumbered forward in his humanoid guise—towering, cloaked in seawater-slick robes, and impossible to miss, with the telltale octopus-like tendrils coiling where a beard should be.
The village itself was even more quiet than it had been that afternoon when they had explored Ilagron earlier that day. But as time went on and the two continued through the ghost town, signs of life could finally be heard. Lukas soon heard the distant cacophony of voices and laughter—coarse, raucous, and growing louder—from not too far away.
The source was impossible to miss.
Set on the outskirts of the village, nestled between jagged cliffs and the sea, stood a massive, ostentatious stone-and-wood structure glowing with torchlight and spell-runes.
Unlike the weathered houses of Ilagron, this place pulsed with life—music, coin, and mischief. Silken banners fluttered from carved balconies, and the fragrance of tobacco, spiced alcohol, and perfume tainted the salty sea breeze. An enchanted sign hung above the wide entrance, glowing faintly: "The House of Fortunes."
So this was what Jerry must have been referring to.
As they approached, two guards flanking the crimson double doors stepped forward, crossing their spears. They wore mismatched armor and wolfish grins.
"Place is full tonight, sorry. And I've never seen you around here," one of them barked, eyeing Lukas warily—until his gaze slid sideways to the Kraken. The guard stopped short, his eyes widening.
There was a moment of tension as the man studied the Kraken's face under the large cloak he wore to hide his monstrous features. Most striking of all about the Cthulhu was the the Sigil of House Drakos, pulsing faintly in gold upon his forehead: a mark of loyalty, a bond between familiar and master.
"Hold up," the other guard muttered, nudging his companion. "I'll be damned. That's a familiar…and he looks like a bloody strong beastman, I've never seen one as scary as this bloke that's for sure. You here to sell?" he asked Lukas, a glint of begrudging respect in his eyes, as he jerked his head towards the Kraken.
Before the Kraken could open his mouth, Lukas spoke.
To be able to afford such a lavish establishment, Lukas was not surprised that they offered more than just loan services. They were a full-on criminal organization, one that was in the business of slave trading.
"No," Lukas told the man, voice calm but cold. "This familiar isn't for sell. But I am here to buy. I've been told you have…items of great interest."
One of them stepped aside to allow for them to enter as he opened up the giant wooden doors. "This way, then, dear customer. We hope you enjoy your time here with us and don't be shy about spending, aye?"
The heavy doors of the House of Fortunes groaned open as Lukas and the Kraken stepped into the first floor and were immediately bombarded by flashing enchantments, the sound of clinking coins, and the cries of broken dreams.
The air inside was thick with the scent of sweat, ale, and desperation. Tables littered with cards and dice lined the hall, while magical slot orbs blinked and spun in feverish rhythms. The floorboards creaked with every step, stained and sticky from spilled drinks and frenzied movement. People shouted, laughed, groaned, and cursed: all of them swept up by the frenzied mania of false luck.
It was like Las Vegas in a magical world.
Now Lukas understood why the village remained mostly empty. Among the gathered were weathered farmers, gaunt mothers, sunken-eyed merchants, all of them gambling with what little they had or perhaps with what they'd already lost long ago. Their clothes hung in tatters, their hands trembled with addiction, and yet their eyes clung to the tables like moths to flame.
Not one noticed Lukas or the Kraken as they passed.
Lukas hated it, everything about the House of Fortunes filled him with disgust and pity. He hated knowing that once this village had been a thriving community with a bright future to look forward to. He hated seeing what it had now become.
The guards passed them off to a well-dressed gentleman who looked terribly out of place. "I am William. I will be your guide for today and you are in luck! Tonight, the House of Fortune is having an auction for their esteemed guests. I hope you have come prepared because you are about to see the wonders of this world and hopefully you may be able to walk home with some of them if you wish!"
The man led them toward a staircase at the back, flanked by rune-etched iron doors. With a whispered password, they descended a spiral of opulent black stone—lit with dim, floating lanterns that flickered with hues of sapphire and emerald.
Just before they entered, their guide held out a hand and brought to their attention a table set outside the room they were meant to enter. On it laid out was a wide array of different wooden masks.
"The House of Fortunes is honoured by your presence. We hope that this will be a memorable first visit. As tonight is our monthly Auction Night, tradition calls for anonymity. Please, wear a mask. Choose any that you prefer."
Lukas took one with cold fingers, studying it. It was a sleek, angular visage of a black dragon, the eyes narrow slits of amber glass. It was fitting. He placed it over his face without a word.
The Kraken didn't bother with a mask for none would fit his face anyways and William did not seem to mind; it appeared that the tradition didn't apply to mere familiars.
With Lukas donning the mask, the guide finally led them into the underground floors of the House of Fortunes and the difference between the upper and lower floors was like night and day.
The scent changed from one of sweat and rot to the sweet scent of rose oil, fine incense, and aged wine. The floors here were of polished marble veined with gold, reflecting the warm glow of chandeliers fashioned from crystalized mana. Velvet curtains hung between archways, and fine carpets muffled footsteps. Dozens of well-dressed guests wandered the room with glasses of jeweled liquor in hand, eyeing the caged displays that lined the walls and center.
Humans in chains. Beastkinwith muzzles. Trolls and goblins trapped behind reinforced glass. Magical beasts, their eyes glazed over as a result of heavy sedation. Enchanted weapons glimmering behind rune-sealed casings.
It was all here.
Before Lukas was a sick menagerie meant to be paraded before buyers like trinkets at a festival. Even the Kraken looked slightly disturbed at the sight.
Instead of being allowed to browse what was on sale, the guide actually led them away from the items on display. Lukas followed the man with the Kraken close behind to another room away from the crowd of guests who were all excitedly waiting for the auction to begin.
The doors to this smaller room opened to reveal not a chamber of power that Lukas expected some kind of criminal mastermind to have, but a lounge dressed in velvet. The air was warm here, fragrant with cinnamon and citrus, and the lighting was golden, casting a soft glow on plush carpets and intricately designed archways. A jazz-like tune played from nowhere in particular, whimsical and oddly cheerful.
Standing at the center of it all—arms wide open as though welcoming old friends—was a man in a tailored pinstripe suit that shimmered faintly under the light. He wore a porcelain bunny mask with exaggerated ears, its mouth curled in a painted smile. A matching carrot-colored cravat puffed from his collar. He was not intimidating, not in the traditional sense. But he radiated control in the way the room was tailored to him, like he'd handcrafted the entire ambiance to be an extension of his own charm.
Lukas recognized the type. This was the type of man who could sell you a pen, even when you had no need for one.
"My my my, to think a true Dragon would come to grace my presence! That's a fine mask that you have chosen, my dear customer!" the masked man exclaimed, practically bouncing toward Lukas and the Kraken with a silk-gloved hand extended in Lukas' direction.
For a second, unreasonable panic had risen up within Lukas; thinking that this man had somehow figured out his true identity. But it had just been his choice of disguise.
"If I am not wrong, you are new to the House of Fortunes. I personally, as the Head of Staff, would like to welcome you with open arms. I'm truly grateful to have you here for the auction tonight! You may call me Mister Rabbit!"
Lukas cracked a small smile under the mask, influenced by the strange energetic man who seemed to be the man in charge around here. But the man's friendly nature would not distract Lukas from the fact that Mister Rabbit was not a good man, far from it in fact.
His handshake was firm but exaggerated, like he was used to buttering potential customers up. Especially ones that had money to spend. Lukas also noticed that Mister Rabbit did not bother asking him for a name. They really did mean it when anonymity was mandatory in the House of Fortunes.
Mister Rabbit turned to the Kraken, placing a hand over his heart. "And you—by the gods of oddity, what a splendid creation! It's like Oceanus molded those tentacles himself! That shine! You certainly are one hell of a specimen. I've never quite seen a Beastkin quite like him. I would love to take him off your hands, Mister Dragon, for a good price of course." Mister Rabbit let out a theatrical chuckle, full of mirth but not entirely devoid of calculation.
"He's not for sale," Lukas replied curtly, "but you can cut the flattery. I appreciate you coming to greet me personally and I'm glad you did. But I'd like to talk business."
Mister Rabbit gasped, clasping his hands together. "Music to my ears! You've come to the right man." He did a little bow, the floppy ears of his mask bobbing comically as he straightened. "Now tell me—are you looking to buy? Sell? Trade? Or perhaps…" he leaned in, voice dropping just enough, "you're in need of a little...financial flexibility?"
Lukas smiled faintly. "All of the above."
"Oh-ho-ho!" Mister Rabbit beamed, spinning on his heel. "Then come, come—let me give you the full tour. I will take time out of my own hands to show you around myself. William, please attend to the other guests, I've got this one. We've got everything you could dream of: rare beasts, magical items, trained sorcerers, even a sentient harp that insults your enemies in song. And if you're looking to borrow, we've got terms so fair they make the Titans themselves look greedy."
Lukas nodded but glanced towards the Kraken, his eyes squinting as he concentrated now. Ever since he first awoke and somehow instinctively used one of the three Legacies of a Lord: the Crown, Lukas had been practicing to make sure he could actually put it to good use.
Instead of blasting out his message to everyone around him, he focused the thought straight towards the Kraken. "Ease into his mind. Make him talk. I need answers."
The Kraken gave the faintest nod, his eyes darkening as he worked his magic. Lukas' new familiar just seemed glad to put his magic to use after such a long time.
As they strolled past golden banisters and glass displays of enchanted curiosities, Lukas turned slightly toward their host. "This place is…quite grand," he remarked. "Tell me a little about this place."
Stolen novel; please report.
"Ahhh, now you are the one flattering me, my dear friend!" Mister Rabbit chuckled, throwing his arms out as if gesturing to a glorious kingdom of his own creation. "Yes, yes! We are a humble house of fortune indeed. This..is everything to me. I have spent my entire life building this from the ground up." There was something genuine in his voice, not the pitch a salesman gave just to get another lead. He meant what he was saying. That also meant the Kraken's magic was working.
"Velena Ilagron," Lukas stated, his voice like steel wrapped in silk. "How much does she owe you?"
At the mention of the name, the Head of Staff's shoulders twitched ever so slightly. Mister Rabbit's tone remained upbeat, but it lost just a hint of its previous bounce. "Ah. The lovely Countess. Tragic tale, really. So full of fire, but no kindling left to burn. A shame. Debts are just promises dressed in gold, and who doesn't love a promise? How much exactly? Even I don't know the exact amount, it goes far beyond the average loan we give out. But we keep thorough records. Every coin in, every soul out. All records are stored safely in our archive tower. Top floor, guarded and sealed. Only a few of us have access."
Mister Rabbit smiled again, but this time, the exaggerated joy didn't quite reach his voice. In fact, Lukas could hear the strain in his voice; his mind struggling against the control of the mystic arts. The Kraken remained a half-step behind them, silent but very present. His tentacled face betrayed nothing, but his magic was already worming its way past the man's polished facade.
It was a terrifying power—not just persuasion, not just suggestion. The Kraken's mind control was precise, invasive, and almost surgical. Thoughts unraveled like strings before him, and all he had to do was tug. Like a puppet on a string.
Mister Rabbit's speech began to flow faster, more casual, like he was chatting at a dinner party instead of giving away secrets. "The amount of money the Countess owes the House of Fortune is astronomical actually! Compound interest is such a cruel, delicious thing. Let's just say, even if she sold every brick of that estate, it wouldn't scratch the surface. But that's fine. We hardly care about that. We stand to gain so much more than just the Ilagron Estate."
"And what exactly is that? What is it that you stand to gain?" Lukas pressed on, his suspicions rising with each answer the Rabbit gave him.
"Oh ho! That is a very good question, my friend." Mister Rabbit tried to chuckle but ended up sounding just a touch out of breath. "You see, the House of Fortune has…investors. Business is business, and kingdoms need leverage. You destabilize one estate, wait for the noble blood to run thin, then swoop in with a lovely contract and an army of searjants. Everyone wins. Except the Countess, of course." The man giggled at his own joke, then blinked, confused, like he hadn't meant to say all that out loud.
From behind, the Kraken's eyes glowed ever so slightly. The spell around his mind was tightening.
Lukas stopped walking. "So that's the grounds they're standing on. They've been planning the downfall of Velena Ilagron for years now. The ones backing you is the Kingdom of Nozar themselves, isn't it?"
Mister Rabbit began to nod—but before he could speak again, a shadow moved from deeper within the hall.
A man in rich crimson robes, flanked by two guards, stepped forward with a practiced smile. "Mister Rabbit," he called out pleasantly, "I have been meaning to speak with you for a while now."
The Kraken flinched and so did Lukas.
Neither of them had not noticed the man walking up on them and instantly they exchanged a knowing glance.
This man was strong. Strong enough to pose a threat to Lukas if things went wrong but still nothing that Lukas did not think the two of them could not handle.
The distraction had been enough for the Kraken to lose his control over the man's mind and Lukas quickly saw that there was no point in going any further with their investigations. Not if they wanted to remain out of suspicion.
Mister Rabbit startled and stepped back, suddenly flustered. "Ah! Of course, of course, where are my manners—just excited to meet a new investor!" The Head of Staff gave a stiff little bow towards Lukas. "Please, do enjoy the auction tonight. So many treasures to see, mm?"
The robed man turned to Lukas with a tight smile that seemed as genuine as fool's gold. He wore a wooden fox mask, the look in his eyes was cold and unsettling; dark brown eyes that bore into Lukas' unblinkingly.
"It's always nice to see a new face. Especially a dragon's. Maybe we might find the time to have a chat later on into the night. But I'm afraid I will have to steal this Rabbit away for just a moment." And with that, the man in crimson ushered Mister Rabbit away with a hand on his back, whispering something just out of earshot. The bunny ears of the man's mask drooped slightly as he disappeared around the corner.
Lukas watched them vanish, jaw tight. "Let them go," he muttered to the Kraken. "For now."
Because around them, the crowd had begun to gather—the auction was about to begin, and the stage was already being lit. Golden spotlights glimmered over polished cages. And soon, the night would begin revealing its darkest treasures. As the golden lights dimmed and the crowd surged toward the velvet-draped stage, Lukas leaned slightly toward the Kraken.
"We should go now, while everyone's attention is on the auction." He murmured.
The main event had drawn nearly every pair of eyes in the room—Lukas knew that an opportunity like this wouldn't come twice. With practiced calm, they slipped sideways, weaving through the crowd rather than against it.
Lukas exchanged a few well-placed nods and smiles, murmured polite greetings to masked nobles and cloaked merchants.
One man from Nozar commented on his mask while a merchant from Easthaven joked about placing a bid on the Kraken. Lukas laughed lightly, all while guiding them closer and closer to the marbled staircase that curved toward the upper floors.
"Esteemed guests," the emcee called out, voice booming through the crystal acoustics, "we thank you for your patience…for now, we present tonight's MAIN EVENT!"
Gasps filled the room and a silence thick with suspense settled over the room.
Lukas froze, his gaze snapping toward the stage against his better judgment.
The curtains fell with a dramatic flourish, silken red dropping like the breath before a storm.
At first, there was confusion.
A hush settled over the lavish room—not the stunned reverence of awe, but the thick pause of disappointment.
Because standing on the raised platform was just a girl, a girl that could not have been older than fourteen. Slim, small, barefoot, with a mop of tangled red hair and dull gray eyes that scanned the crowd with quiet fear. She wore a simple cotton shift, dirty and torn at the hem. There were no jewels and no ethereal glow.
She was just a child. And she was supposed to be the main event of the auction?
A murmur rippled through the audience. Whispers of uncertainty and disapproval rose up from the crowd until one of the handlers stepped forward. He was dressed like a butler, polite to a fault—but what he did next chilled the room.
Without a single change in expression, the handler withdrew a sleek, rune-etched rod from his belt. Then he pressed it to the girl's side.
A pulse of violent energy cracked outwards—the girl gasped, doubling over, her fingers clawing at the stone beneath her feet. A second guard moved behind her and jabbed something into her neck. Another jolt. Pain and true anguish twisted across her face. Then the emcee cleared his throat as if embarrassed before he spoke, loud enough for all to hear.
"She's being stubborn. But don't worry, ladies and gentlemen…she'll show her true form soon enough."
The girl's body shuddered violently. Her eyes rolled back. Bones crunched, skin gleamed, and scales began to ripple across her flesh in patches—first on her arms, then her back. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her transformation began. She collapsed to her knees as another jolt struck her, harder than the first. Her thin arms trembled as she braced herself against the cold marble floor of the stage.
And then it happened.
Like ink bleeding through parchment, fine streaks of crimson shimmered beneath the girl's flesh. Her breathing grew ragged, uneven, as if each breath was pulling something impossible from within. Her back arched violently, her head swinging back as she let out a guttural roar. Her bones cracked like thunder, shifting and moulding itself to take on her true form. Her shoulders heaved as deep red scales began to pulse through her skin, displacing human softness with the sheen that gleamed under the light of the chandeliers that hung above.
Her scream was not human.
It was ancient and unbridled, vibrating with resonance that reached beyond voice—beyond pain.
Flames flickered from her mouth for the briefest second before vanishing—suppressed by the shackles inscribed with magical runes that had been clamped around her wrists and ankles. Her hair began to lift as though underwater, suspended in the magic that swirled around her like a cocoon. Claws erupted from her fingers, her spine elongated, a tail forming as tendrils of smoke bled off her back where wings struggled—fought—to emerge.
The girl standing before him was...a dragon.
When Lukas had fought the Kraken, the Draconic Flow surged through him with pride and purpose. It filled him with power and pride, astonished that he was able to transform into such a mighty being of pure power and authority.
The dragon that now stood on the stage was just as breathtaking—and heart-wrenching.
Her scales shimmered a deep, molten red, like rubies bathed in firelight, but their luster was marred by lash marks and cruel scars that had been burned into her flesh.
Jagged lesions webbed across her flanks, and one of her wings dragged against the ground, torn at the membrane as if it had been pinned down and ripped apart. Her horns, which should have curved with grace and strength, were chipped and uneven, like someone had tried to saw them off.
Yet, despite it all, there was something undeniably celestial about her.
The humans around Lukas, standing with their coin purses ready and their lecherous eyes fixed on the red dragon, seemed to gleam with a sickening hunger.
In an instant, the pleasantries and polite smiles were erased and thrown to the side.
They hollered, their voices filled with greed and disdain, bidding for the dragon like she was nothing more than a prized animal. They shouted out prices, their words cutting through the air like blades, as if the creature's torment was just another transaction. Some laughed, some cheered, but all of them were complicit in the degradation of what should have been a being of unparalleled majesty.
Lukas could hear the voices of men and women alike—rich merchants, corrupt nobles, and even soldiers—jeering as they haggled over the price of her life.
They did not care about her suffering, did not care about the life that had been torn from her; they only saw a rare commodity, a trophy for their twisted collections.
This was a defining moment.
It was a breaking point.
This entire time in his second life, Lukas had always held a connection to his past life as a human. He had never truly accepted himself as a dragon. But now, Lukas did not want anything to do with this race that he had once been a part of.
He was witnessing the evil humanity was capable of.
Lukas continued to watch the crowd, seeing how far these humans were willing to go for the sake of their own desires.
He did not know it then, but it was in this very moment in which Lukas Drakos abandoned his humanity and began to embrace what he truly was now in this second life.
As every single person's attention remained riveted on the youngling, this would have been a perfect moment for Lukas and the Kraken to sneak away. But that was no longer on Lukas' mind.
There was only one thing on his mind now and it was rage.
Fury coursed through him like an inferno, an unstoppable, blistering wave of fury that obliterated every trace of control he'd ever had. The audacity of these filth-ridden humans, standing there like parasites, tearing apart the dignity of a being that was more majestic than any of them could ever comprehend! They laughed, they bid, they owned her in their twisted minds, and Lukas felt the pressure build up in his chest, a roar bubbling up his throat.
The dragon inside him roared louder, sharper, an answer to the torment of the slave they were auctioning like cattle.
He did not even think.
Every muscle in his body screamed for vengeance. His voice tore through the air as he bellowed, a primal, guttural cry of pure destruction. The ground trembled beneath his feet, the air thick with the crackling of his fury, the raw power of a Dragon Lord unfurling violently. The energy from his Mana Pool surged to the surface, a tidal wave of water forming from the air around him as it tore through the nearest humans in an instant.
Blood sprayed as bodies were ripped to shreds, flesh and bone pulled apart by Lukas' spell.
The first man to scream was silenced mid-breath as Lukas' claws tore through his throat, a wet, sickening spray of crimson painting the air. The second barely had time to turn before his skull was crushed beneath Lukas' heel, caving in with a crack that echoed above the chaos.
Crimson red gushed across the marble like spilled wine, warm and slick beneath his feet. The polished lobby was soaked red in seconds. Entrails spilled from a man clutching his stomach, gasping, crawling—until Lukas shoved him aside like trash.
Another tried to run, only to have his spine ripped clean out, dangling like a grotesque rope from Lukas' blood-soaked hands. The gold chandeliers above trembled as bodies were hurled through furniture, tables splintered beneath corpses, and screams morphed into choked gurgles.
All of this happened in a matter of seconds.
Lukas turned to his familiar as the humans stared in horror, wails of horror rather than entertainment filling the air as they realized what had just happened, his face smeared in blood and viscera.
He had but a single order for the Kraken.
"Spare the slaves. Kill the rest. Kill them all."