Marvel's master of cosmic magic-Chapter 828

That night, Rowan lay back on the narrow inn bed, a stack of borrowed books spread across his chest.

Clover Kingdom.

Heart Kingdom.

Spade Kingdom.

Diamond Kingdom.

He lowered the book slightly, staring at the ceiling.

The naming scheme felt... suspiciously themed.

He wondered if the world’s creator had a fondness for playing cards.

According to the texts, magic in this world centered around four primary elements—fire, wind, water, and earth. From those roots branched countless variations: healing, darkness, spatial manipulation, mirror magic, trap magic, poison magic, and more.

The books available to common buyers were broad summaries rather than deep studies. Still, they offered enough to sketch the structure of the world.

Magical attributes were hereditary. Children typically inherited one parent’s affinity—or, rarely, a hybrid of both. Most people possessed only a single attribute. Dual affinities were uncommon.

There were also persistent legends of devils, remnants of an era when a demon had nearly destroyed the world. The stories were inconsistent, bordering on myth, but Rowan made note of them anyway.

He rose from the bed and crossed to the window. Beyond the outer district, high stone walls separated the common city from the inner capital, where nobles, royal officials, and most Magic Knight squads resided.

If the public texts were this shallow, the real knowledge would be inside those walls.

The royal castle would almost certainly house deeper archives.

The Magic Knight headquarters likely maintained libraries of their own.

He was considering how best to gain access when a rhythmic thudding began against the thin wooden wall beside him.

The inn’s soundproofing was abysmal.

Rowan closed his eyes briefly.

He had forgotten how lively capitals could be.

Particularly when ambitious village boys arrived flush with dreams—and coin.

He exhaled.

"I should buy a house."

The thought was practical. A decent property, even in the outer district, would cost a significant sum. The gold and gemstones he had "happened upon" during his journey had provided comfort, but not permanence.

Which meant he needed more money.

Rowan descended the stairs and approached the innkeeper.

"Where’s the nearest gambling house?"

The innkeeper gave him a long, knowing look.

"Those places swallow coin faster than fire swallows dry wood. You’re here for the Magic Knight exam, aren’t you? I’d advise against it."

Then the man leaned forward and discreetly slid several illustrated cards across the counter.

"If you’re looking to spend a little gold, there are... other entertainments."

Rowan stared at the animated images on the cards.

"I appreciate the concern."

He left before the innkeeper could continue.

Outside, he nudged the threads of probability ever so slightly in his favor.

Luck responded.

He wandered through the night market without direction for nearly half an hour before a brightly lit building revealed itself in a side street—laughter, shouting, and the clatter of dice spilling from its doors.

A gambling house.

Perfect.

Money flowed quickest where chance ruled.

And chance, when properly persuaded, rarely refused him.

—

"Welcome!"

Two elegantly dressed attendants stepped forward as he entered, eyes immediately drawn to the heavy pouch at his side.

Young men with money were the establishment’s favorite customers—confident, inexperienced, and eager to prove themselves.

"First time," Rowan said mildly. "What are my options?"

He tipped them generously. They smiled brighter.

Roulette tables. Dice. Card games of varying rules. Private rooms for higher stakes.

Rowan scanned the room while they spoke.

Then something caught his attention.

At the far end of the hall sat a broad-shouldered man with black hair, lazily exhaling smoke as cards were dealt before him.

The mana around him was different.

Denser.

Sharper.

Not overwhelming—but clearly superior to anyone else present.

"Who’s that?" Rowan asked, nodding toward the man.

The attendant lowered her voice slightly.

"That’s Captain Yami of the Black Bulls. He comes here often."

Black Bulls.

Rowan’s memory stirred.

Clover maintained nine Magic Knight squads:

Golden Dawn.

Crimson Lion Kings.

Silver Eagles.

Blue Rose.

Green Mantis.

Purple Orcas.

Aqua Deer.

Coral Peacocks.

And the Black Bulls.

The strongest, by reputation, rotated among Golden Dawn, Crimson Lions, and Silver Eagles.

The Black Bulls were... less prestigious.

Undisciplined. Unpredictable. Known for property damage and erratic members.

Rowan considered that.

Less scrutiny. More flexibility.

Interesting.

He approached the table and watched a few rounds.

Captain Yami’s play was aggressive but inconsistent. He won occasionally through boldness, not precision.

After observing enough, Rowan took the seat opposite him.

Yami glanced up, smoke curling from his cigarette.

"I don’t play kids," he muttered. "Come back in a few years."

Rowan rested his chin on his hand.

"Is that because you don’t want to? Or because you can’t?"

He tilted his head slightly.

"I watched a few rounds. Your technique’s sloppy."

It was a calculated prod.

Yami’s brow twitched.

"You can question my strength," he said slowly, "but not my gambling."

Rowan smiled faintly.

"People call me lucky. I’ve never walked away from a table empty-handed. Care to test that?"

The room quieted slightly as cards were reshuffled.

Yami leaned forward, interest replacing indifference.

"Deal."