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Ryuk speaks up. “You can’t just grant each of us a level.”

“Yes, in fact I can.”

The ink shadow’s stats appear:

Ink Shadow Level 49

HP: 851/851

MANA: 367/367

ATK: 254

MATK: 335

DEF: 256

MDF: 293

LUCK: 47

 “You’re level 49?” Ryuk asks. “What are you doing here?”

“I grew bored so I figured I would stop by my old home.”

“You used to live here?”

The ink shadow nods. “Yes, The Paradise of the Insane, as it’s called, used to be known as simply ‘The Paradise.’ You let in a few too many ink shadows and everyone goes insane.”

Hiccup grumbles a string of curses about the species.

“Now me, I’m not the spooking type, but I do like to play games, especially high stakes games. So, if you win, I will let you destroy me. All of you are at pathetically low levels and you’ll benefit from the experience that you’ll reap from besting me.”

“And if we lose?” Ryuk asks.

“What do you have that I want?” The ink shadow seeps into the ground and comes up directly in front of Ryuk. At this range, Ryuk almost can see the outline of an old man’s face. “Nothing,” the ink shadow says.

The ink shadow moves to Hiccup, who immediately looks away, shivering with fright. “Nothing.” He stops in front of FeeTwix. After examining him for a moment he says, “Something.”

“So you want something from my list?”

“I do.”

“And what would that be?”

The ink shadow shakes its head. “If I tell you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise. So what do you say?”

“It’s up to you,” Ryuk tells FeeTwix, “it’s your list.”

“We’ll do it,” FeeTwix says proudly.

“What?” Hiccup stomps his feet. “Are you fickin’ kidding me?”

FeeTwix steps back and puts his arm around Hiccup’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, goblin friend. You said you were a better gambler than he is, so I’m betting on you.”

A prompt appears before Ryuk:

Challenge: Will you engage in a game of chance with the ink shadow?

Rewards: A shit-ton of experience.

Risks: FeeTwix will lose an unspecified item from his inventory list.

Ryuk glances at FeeTwix, who gives him the go ahead. He presses his finger down onto the “accept” button.

Chapter 8: Natty Dread

The cathedral door silently swings open, and a breeze whips out of the cavernous interior, bringing with it the scent of arsenic and old lace. The ink shadow sinks into the earth and reappears in front of the open doorway.

“Shall we begin?” he asks in a syrupy voice.

A mirror appears in FeeTwix’s hand as he leads the way. He quickly updates his audience about his current decision-making process as Ryuk hangs back. Hiccup is a spiky ball of angsty nerves, equally pissed off at the ink shadow and spooked by the abandoned cathedral.

“There could be ghosts in there,” he grumbles, “and boy, do I fickin’ hate ghosts.”

“So what if there are? We can battle them, no problem,” Ryuk assures him.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Big Resetter who’s been to all three continents and has vanquished enemies big and small. Ooh-ahh, Mr. Big Balls over here thinks he’s got a third leg up on the supernatural! Must be nice; must be nice to be so confident about the unknown.”

The mention of his previous travels calls to mind a vision of Tamana, back when she was a level 96 White Mystic. Ryuk had been on the brink of death so many times only to see Tamana hovering over him, her hands radiant white as she healed him, as she saved him – something he couldn’t do for her.

He suddenly feels cold; he suddenly feels helpless and useless and empty, as if Tamana’s death also took part of his life. He pushes the memory away as he enters the derelict cathedral.

The pews inside the cathedral have been arranged in a circular pattern, facing inward, and the stained glass depiction of a famous Tritanian deity who oversees all three floating continents is the only source of illumination in the darkened former house of worship.

“Now where is it … ” The ink shadow scratches the place where his chin should be for a moment. “That’s right!”

The ground shakes and the wooden floor of the cathedral gives way as a vertically positioned disk the size of a monster truck tire rises from the ground. Its outer edge is marked in a repeating pattern of different images – a death’s head, question mark, broken leg bone, crossed swords, and ‘spin again.’

“Natty Dread?” Hiccup shakes his fist at the ink shadow. “You got some fickin’ nerve challenging me to a game of Natty Dread!”

The ink shadow seems genuinely hurt. “It was that or Buffalo Soldier, and I figured this would be more to your taste.”

FeeTwix scoots up next to Ryuk. “Am I missing something here? What exactly is Natty Dread?”

“It’s a game that originated in the city of Naklin on the continent of Polynya. You roll dice, and if you get an odd number, you spin the Wheel of Dread. If you get an even number, you’re good to go – no spin necessary.”

“And let me guess, each item on the Wheel of Dread is trouble in some way?”

Ryuk nods. “If you land on a death’s head you die instantly. If everyone dies, the game is over and we respawn back at our guild.”

FeeTwix checks out the Wheel of Dread for a moment. “And the question mark?”

“This is about the only good thing on the wheel. The question mark allows us to ask one question, which the ink shadow must answer truthfully.”

The ink shadow crosses his heart. “On my mother’s grave, I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Empress. To assure my veracity during the questioning phase, I’m temporarily given access to everything the Sage of Gotha knows. Everything.”

“And the broken bone?” FeeTwix asks Ryuk.

“If you land on the bone, you permanently lose a limb.”

“This is just bloody fickin’ great,” Hiccup laments. “My cousin, Spew Gorge, lost his chalupa in a game of Natty Dread. Talk about unexpected bone loss!”

The ink shadow considers this for a moment. “Well, the baculum is a bone, although not precisely a bone like any other bone. I suppose in the spirit of good sportsmanship, I could leave your taquito alone.”

Chalupa. And you promise not to touch it?” Hiccup protectively cups his hands over his groin.

“You have my word, and to be frank with you, I avoid the touching of goblin churros whenever possible.”

Chalupa,” Hiccup growls.

“Yes, yes – your chupacabra. Now that that’s settled, shall we play? Does anyone have dice? If not, you can use mine.” The ink shadow presents three eight-sided black onyx dice with numerals inlaid in gold.

“Do we look like we were fickin’ spawned yesterday?” Hiccup scoffs.

“I have these.” FeeTwix flips his hand over and three oversize dice of solid gold with diamonds inlaid as the spots appear in his palm.

The ink shadows form waivers. “Good! You’ll each get two rolls. If any of you survive two rounds, then you may kill me and reap in the rewards for the entire guild!”

Hiccup holds his hand out to FeeTwix. “Give me the dice; I’m going first.”

The goblin cups his hands and rattles the dice hard enough to shake the inlaid gems loose, blows on them, hops from foot to foot as he rattles them again, whispers ‘daddy needs a new pair of shoes,’ and lets loose the dice. They quickly settle on the old cathedral floor: 6, 2, 4.