King of Spades

by kurenohikari

Husker, known as the Gambling Overlord, caught the attention of Hell by rapidly amassing power, souls, riches, and territory. His casino, The Cat's Den, became a hub of vice and despair, where sinners gambled away their souls in a chaotic environment. Initially underestimated, he proved his potential by transforming from a small-time overlord into a formidable powerhouse in Hell.

3. Mafia Overlord

The staff at The Cat's Den were buzzing with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Usually, Husker expanded his territory through gambling, outsmarting rivals in games of chance, or, in some cases, by simply buying them out. But a turf war? That was a whole different game. It set their hearts pounding with a thrilling anticipation that was rarely felt in the day-to-day operations of the casino and resort.

Husker, known for his cunning and sharp intellect, had managed to keep his empire growing steadily and safely. His methods were strategic and precise, rarely involving brute force or direct confrontation. So, when word spread that Husker was about to get involved in a turf war, it sent a ripple of excitement through the staff. The idea of their overlord stepping into a more aggressive role against the Mafia Overlord who had been causing trouble was an unexpected twist that everyone was eager to see play out.

Whispers spread quickly through the staff. Bartenders shared knowing glances over the counter, cocktail waitresses exchanged hushed speculations in the break room, and the security team buzzed with anticipation. It was a rare event, something that broke the routine of the usual hustle and bustle. They had seen Husker win many things with his sharp mind and even sharper cards, but this direct confrontation promised a different kind of excitement.

In the staff lounge, small groups huddled together, discussing the latest developments. There was a tangible energy in the air, a sense of unity and loyalty that bonded them even more tightly to Husker. They were ready to stand by him, no matter what.

"Can you believe it?" murmured one of the bartenders, his voice low and filled with excitement. "Husker, going into a turf war. This is going to be something to remember."

"It's about time we showed that Mafia Overlord what happens when you mess with the King of Spades," one of the bouncers muttered, cracking his knuckles with a satisfied grin.

Another staff member, a waitress with bright red hair, nodded vigorously. "I can't wait for the boss to put that Mafia Overlord in his place. He's been a thorn in our side for too long."

"I know, right?" A dealer added, shuffling a deck of cards with practiced ease. "Always trying to poach our clients, spreading rumors. It's time he learned his lesson."

The head of security, a towering figure with a stern expression, chimed in. "Husker's got the brains and the strategy. If anyone can take that bastard down, it's him. And we'll be right there with him, making sure it happens."

There was an undercurrent of loyalty and fierce protectiveness that ran through The Cat's Den. Husker had built more than just a casino and resort; he had created a family of sorts. And when one of their own was threatened, they all felt it. The Mafia Overlord had been a nuisance, trying to edge into Husker's territory, underestimating the strength and unity of The Cat's Den's staff.

As the staff buzzed with rumors and questions, Husker and Melora were in the overlord's office, engrossed in a surprising and peculiar delivery. Melora, frozen beside Husker, stared in disbelief at the object before them.

"Is that a star?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.

Husker nodded, his face blank, though Melora could sense his disbelief. "It is."

"His Majesty Paimon's gift was a star?" Melora's face remained expressionless, but her voice betrayed her shock.

"It is," Husker repeated, as if he could not believe it himself. He then turned to the delivery demon and forced a smile, baring his fangs. "How are we supposed to move it? Or will it remain in my office forever?"

The demon shook his head and replied, "The star is linked to you, Lord Husker. As such, only you can touch it or manipulate it."

Husker raised an eyebrow, finally showing a hint of being impressed. "Well, that will help when it comes to thieves. Please send my regards and gratitude to His Majesty and inform him that his son and granddaughter's stay at The Cat's Den will be on the house. It is the least I can do, especially when news about the ex-princess Stella spread wide after we assured him to keep it silent."

The messenger's expression twisted in disgust. "There's nothing for you to apologize for. You and Princess Charlotte behaved with decorum and as expected of your stations. It was on the spies and that... harlot. They made a mockery of the ancient and noble house of Ars Goetia!"

"In the end, she got what she deserved," Husker said blandly, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"She deserved more than simply getting her titles stripped," the messenger scowled, clearly still enraged by the scandal.

Husker turned to Melora, his expression almost saying, "See? The suckers don't know what a poker face is!" before addressing the messenger again. "When it comes to entitled people like the ex-princess Stella, those titles are everything. Once taken, she will live forever in shame, and that is torture enough. King Paimon's decision was wise, punishing her accordingly without making his family suffer more. After all, Stella is still Princess Octavia's mother."

The messenger perked up, his anger dissipating. Though an avian, Husker could have confused him for a puppy, practically wagging his tail and wiggling in his chair. "You are right! King Paimon is wise indeed!"

"Would you like a drink? It must have been a long journey," Husker offered, eager to end the conversation on a more pleasant note.

"I cannot intrude anymore, my lord," the messenger said quickly, though his eyes lit up at the offer.

"Nonsense! I enjoy mixing drinks. Let me do this. You did bring me a star, after all!" Husker chuckled, barely containing his amusement. He and Melora exchanged amused glances, both silently questioning if the Ars Goetia were so easily won over.

"If you say so," the messenger said, delighted by the reception. No wonder Princess Charlotte only had good things to say about Overlord Husker; he was a true lord, nothing like that harpy Stella.

Husker moved to stand behind the bar, a serene smile on his face. A smile he only wore when crafting drinks. There was something in the simplicity of mixing alcohols that he enjoyed. He reached for a bottle of St. Germain elderflower liqueur, its delicate floral notes promising a refreshing start. Measuring out exactly 1.5 ounces, he poured it into a sparkling wine glass, the golden liquid catching the light.

Next, he turned his attention to the sparkling wine. Choosing a crisp Prosecco, he carefully poured 3 ounces into the glass, the effervescent bubbles dancing up to meet the liqueur, creating a light and airy blend. The room filled with a soft fizzing sound, a promise of the refreshing drink to come.

Husker reached for the club soda. He measured out an ounce and poured it in, the clear liquid mingling with the wine and liqueur, completing the mix. The cocktail sparkled invitingly, its pale gold hue reminiscent of a summer's day. For the final touch, Husker picked up a slice of candied lemon, its sweet and tangy flavor a perfect garnish. He carefully placed it on the rim of the glass, adding a touch of elegance and a burst of color.

With a satisfied nod, he placed the light, fruity, and refreshing drink before the messenger. "Here you go, a hummingbird cocktail!"

"Delicious!" the messenger chirped, delighted. After savoring the drink, he soon took his leave, still beaming from the reception.

Both Melora and Husker sighed in unison as the door closed. Husker rubbed his forehead, and Melora slumped into the chair the messenger had occupied. They both stared at the star in disbelief.

"The Ars Goetia are mad," Husker declared, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Melora, unable to defend her fellow royals, could only nod. Who gifts a star? She thought to herself. Husker then mused, "Anyhow, this will look good as a chandelier for the ballroom."

Melora turned to her boss, stunned. Husker was planning on turning a star into a chandelier, and he thought the Ars Goetia were mad? She shook her head and replied, "Whatever you say, boss."

This was above her pay grade.

However, her attention turned back to her boss, when the atmosphere in the office became more serious. Now the messenger was gone, Husker had turned his focus back to the issue at hand. He was going over maps and documents spread out on his desk.

"This isn't like our usual methods," Husker said, his voice thoughtful. "We're stepping into dangerous territory, Melora. The Mafia Overlord isn't going to play fair. So, we need to take him out in one go, leave no room for retaliation."

Melora nodded, her face set with resolve. "I understand. But the staff is behind you, Husker. They're ready for this. We're all tired of that Mafia Overlord's antics."

Husker looked up at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You've come a long way, princess. From a naive young woman to my right hand in a turf war. You're ready for this too, aren't you?"

Melora met his gaze, her eyes full of confidence and determination. "I am. And I won't let you down."

As the days passed, the preparations for the turf war ramped up. The staff was drilled and briefed on their roles, and the casino's security measures were tightened. It was a tense but invigorating time. Everyone knew the risks, but the sense of loyalty to Husker made them willing to face whatever came their way.

As Melora walked through the casino, she could feel the eyes of the staff on her, filled with respect and admiration. She paused at the bar, where a group of employees were gathered, their conversation hushed but animated.

"Melora," one of the bartenders called out with a grin. "We're ready. Just give the word."

Melora felt a warmth in her chest. "Thank you. All of you. This means a lot. Tomorrow, we show that Overlord Henroin what The Cat's Den is made of."

A cheer went up from the group, and Melora felt a surge of pride. They were ready. She was ready. And together, they would see this plan through. Later that night, before the confrontation, Husker gathered his key staff in a private room. The air was thick with anticipation as they waited for him to speak.

"We're not just fighting for territory," Husker began, his voice calm but filled with resolve. "We're fighting to protect what we've built here. The Cat's Den is more than just a casino. It's a home. And no one threatens our home."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Husker's words struck a chord with everyone present. They were ready to fight, not just for Husker, but for each other and for the place that had become their sanctuary in Hell.

With his people ready, Husker prepared to leave The Cat's Den, entrusting Melora with the crucial task of holding the fort. As he rallied his team, their expressions reflected a blend of anticipation and resolve. They moved with purpose, blending into the shadows of the night, their presence barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of the city.

The stage was set for the turf war, and The Cat's Den was ready.

Infiltrating the Mafia Overlord Henroin's territory was a calculated risk. Husker had expected Henrion's men to be unprepared for the assault, and in that, he was right. His team moved like a well-oiled machine, taking down Henroin's mafiosi with precision. But what took Husker aback was that they were not the first ones there.

Husker and his team landed right in the middle of an unexpected fight. An imp, half-feral and covered in blood, was battling Henrion's men. The imp's eyes were wild, yet fiercely protective, as it guarded a hellhound pup. The scene was chaotic, a whirlwind of violence and desperation.

Husker quickly assessed the situation and barked orders to his people. "Get the imp and the pup to The Cat's Den Hospital Wing. Now!" His voice was a blend of authority and urgency.

As his ppeople moved to secure the imp and the pup, Husker turned his attention to Henroin's mafia. This was where he would show why he was one of the most powerful overlords in Pentagram City. With wide wings spread, his golden irises glowed demonically, casting an eerie light over the battlefield.

Husker launched himself into the air, a fearsome figure against the night sky. He swooped down with lethal grace, claws tainted red as he tore through Henrion's men. His movements were a blur of deadly precision, each strike calculated and devastating. He moved like a force of nature, unstoppable and merciless.

Henroin's men fell one after another, unable to match Husker's ferocity. The air was thick with the sounds of battle, the cries of the fallen, and the smell of blood. Husker's presence was overwhelming, a demon in his element. His power was palpable, an aura of intimidation that left no doubt about who was in control.

As the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, Husker surveyed the remnants of Henroin's mafia. His people were efficient, ensuring that no threats remained. "Secure the area," Husker ordered, his voice steady and commanding. "We're almost done here."

In the midst of the chaos, Husker caught sight of Henroin himself. The Mafia Overlord's face was a mask of fear and disbelief as he watched his empire crumble around him. The coward left his men to perish as he went to hide inside his manor. Husker landed, wings still spread wide, eyes glowing with a malevolent light. The cat overlord prowled the corridors of the manor using his keen senses to find the Mafia Overlord.

Husker burst into the Mafia Don's office, his presence commanding and intimidating. The scene he stumbled upon was unexpected: Henroin, the spider Overlord, lay unconscious on the floor, while another spider-like sinner leaned casually against the desk. This younger spider, clad in the attire of a typical Italian mafioso, was smoking nonchalantly. His entire figure was shadowy black, blending almost seamlessly with the dimly lit office. Husker raised an eyebrow in recognition. This was Arackniss, Henroin's son and heir.

"What made you turn on your own father?" Husker allowed himself a moment of curiosity, sensing no immediate threat from Arackniss.

Arackniss shrugged, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "This fucker turned on our family first, the moment he forsook my brother, his own son."

Husker's brow furrowed. "Brother? I thought you were an only son."

Arackniss let out a humorless chuckle. "This bastardo wishes I was an only son. But no, I have a little brother. A brother I mistreated in life, and who is now, in death, suffering at the hands of a sick monster."

Husker crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly. "That still doesn't answer why you're telling me all of this."

Arackniss's lips curled into a sardonically smile. "Because my useless father is unlikely to help. Even if he wanted to save Tony, he doesn't have the power or the allies to keep my fratello safe. You, on the other hand, can."

Husker smirked, intrigued by the spider's audacity. "Why would I help you? Why would I save your brother? If I kill your father, your soul and every other soul under his command will be mine."

Arackniss's smirk matched Husker's, his eyes gleaming with a mix of desperation and determination. "My soul is not owned by this useless piece of shit, but it can be yours."

Husker's eyes narrowed, realizing the weight of Arackniss's proposition. "If I save your brother."

Arackniss nodded, his voice steady. "If you save Tony."

The office fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words and heavy intentions. Husker's mind raced, weighing the potential benefits and risks. He had always been a shrewd strategist, and this deal could tip the balance of power in his favor.

Husker's eyes narrowed as he pressed further. "Who is your brother?"

Arackniss hesitated for a moment before answering, "Angel Dust."

Husker's eyes widened in surprise before he burst into laughter. "Hell's most viewed pornstar is your little brother? Well, I can understand your willingness to sell your soul. Valentino is a monster of the first rate. But what makes you believe that your soul is worth more than Angel Dust's? Why should I not keep his soul the moment I get it from Valentino?"

Arackniss's smirk never wavered. "I know that you don't need a whore and that you have enough stars for your lounge and people coming to your establishment that you don't need Angel Dust's popularity. Also, I am the best shot in Pentagram City. The real backbone of this mafia and the reason why my fucker of a father even made it to overlord status, small time as he was."

Husker considered this, intrigued by the sibling relationship and his own disdain for the Vees. The prospect of gaining a loyal lieutenant in Arackniss, along with additional forces, was tempting. Moreover, taking Angel Dust would weaken Valentino, potentially opening new avenues for expansion. He weighed the options, the possibilities spinning in his mind. Finally, he nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Very well," Husker said finally, his voice decisive. "I'll save your brother. But know this, Arackniss: betray me, and you'll wish for a fate kinder than your father's."

Arackniss nodded, his expression resolute. "Understood. I won't betray you."

To seal the deal, instead of a handshake, Husker extended his hand, palm up. Arackniss took it, leaning down to place a kiss on Husker's knuckles, like in those old mafia movies. Once the golden glow dissipated and the demonic deal was sealed, Husker wasted no time. With a swift motion, he brandished his staff, its diamond dice head glinting in the dim light. Though the staff appeared golden, beneath the paint lay angelic steel, a fact unnoticed by most.

As Henrion lay helpless before him, his son Arackniss standing nearby, Husker's mind was already on the next step. In one decisive swing, Husker severed Henrion's head from his body, the act cold and efficient. There was no hesitation, no remorse, only the relentless pursuit of power. As the body fell, Husker calmly took a seat on the ex-don's desk. Arackniss stood before him, his expression unreadable. The air crackled with tension as they began to discuss the future.

Husker leaned back in the leather chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest as he listened to Arackniss's assessment. The air in the room was heavy with tension, crackling with the weight of their newfound alliance.

"So, who's with us, and who's against?" Husker's voice was low, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

Arackniss hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting as he weighed his words. "Most of them will follow your lead, especially the younger ones. They've grown tired of the old ways, understand that survival in this new Hell means adapting."

Most of the mafiosos had adapted to the shifting dynamics of Hell, their loyalty easily swayed by the promise of power and protection. But there were still a few holdouts, stubborn remnants of a bygone era unwilling to accept the new order.

A flicker of satisfaction danced in Husker's eyes. "And the troublemakers?"

Arackniss's expression darkened. "There are a few diehards, loyal to my father to the end. They won't bend, won't accept change."

Husker nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge ahead. "Very well. We'll deal with them swiftly."

Arackniss wrote down a list of names and handed the paper to his new boss. With a nod of agreement, Husker signaled to his men, who began to usher the dissenters into the room. Arackniss watched in silence as they lined up before him, his heart heavy with the weight of what was to come.

Husker approached him, a gun glinting in his hand. Arackniss's eyes widened in shock as he realized what Husker intended. "Take it," Husker commanded, his voice firm. "Show me where your loyalty lies."

Arackniss's hand trembled as he accepted the weapon, the weight of it unfamiliar in his grip. He glanced up at Husker, his expression conflicted.

Husker's gaze was unwavering. "Do what needs to be done."

Arackniss swallowed hard, steeling himself for the task ahead. With a heavy heart, he raised the gun and fired, each shot ringing out like a damning echo in the room.

As the last of his father's loyalists fell, Arackniss's hands trembled, the weight of his actions settling heavily upon him. But Husker's steady gaze offered him silent reassurance, a reminder that sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

With the territory now under his control, Husker and his team began the process of consolidating their victory. As they moved through Henroin's former stronghold, Husker couldn't help but think of Melora back at The Cat's Den. He had left her with a heavy responsibility, especially since he wouldn't be able to make it back to the casino & resort until he has mangled every single one of his new souls into compliance. But he trusted her completely, she had proven herself time and time again.

And taking care of The Cat's Den she did. However, her focused was mostly in the situation at

As Blitzo slowly blinked his eyes open, the dim light of the hospital room greeted him, casting a soft glow on the bandages wrapped around his body. His head throbbed dully, his body aching with the aftermath of whatever had landed him in this unfamiliar place. Beside him, Loona lay sleeping, her form curled protectively against his side, her breathing steady and reassuring.

For a moment, Blitzo simply lay there, his mind swirling with fragments of memories and unanswered questions. Then a surge of relief washed over Blitzo as he realized he was alive, his mind racing to piece together the events that had led him here. Memories of his capture by the mafia flickered in his mind, and he groaned.

Blitzo had no idea about how he had ended up in Pentagram City, nor how he had been captured by the mafia. Then again, Blitzo blamed it on his bad luck. However, the moment Blitzo had seen the hellhound pup in the cell in front of him, Blitzo knew he had to act and save the two of them. The sight of the frightened creature had stirred something deep within him, igniting a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.

With a heavy heart, Blitzo reflected on the reckless decision to orchestrate a daring prison break. He knew the risks, understood the odds stacked against them, but in that moment, he had seen no other choice. For the sake of Loona, for the chance at freedom, he had gambled it all.

Yet, against all odds, they had emerged from the chaos battered but alive, their spirits unbroken. And now, as Blitzo lay in the quiet sanctuary of the hospital room, a new wave of questions flooded his mind.

With a sigh, Blitzo pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as pain flared through his body. He glanced around the room, taking in the sterile surroundings and the quiet hum of machinery in the background. It was clear that he was in a hospital of some kind, but how he had ended up here remained a mystery.

Just then, the door creaked open, and a sinner with delicate butterfly wings fluttered into the room. Blitzo's eyes widened in surprise at the sight, his mind racing with confusion. What was going on?

The butterfly-like sinner approached Blitzo's bedside, his expression gentle as he checked Blitzo's vitals with practiced ease. Blitzo couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over him as he watched the sinner work, his mind buzzing with questions.

"Where am I?" Blitzo finally spoke up, his voice hoarse with disuse.

The sinner paused, glancing up at Blitzo with a sympathetic smile. "You're in The Cat's Den hospital wing," he replied softly.

The words sent a chill down Blitzo's spine, his mind racing with implications. How had he ended up here? What had happened to him? And most importantly, why was he in the territory of the Gambling Overlord? The Cat's Den was the territory of the Gambling Overlord, a powerful figure in Pentagram City. What could someone like Blitzo possibly have to do with someone like him?

As Blitzo stewed in his thoughts, the sinner continued his examination, his movements methodical and precise. Blitzo barely noticed when the sinner injected a sedative into his IV bag, the world around him fading into darkness as sleep claimed him once more.

But even as he drifted off, Blitzo couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air, a sense of foreboding that whispered of secrets yet to be revealed.

As Blitzo stirred awake once more, his senses gradually returning to him, he found himself met with a heartwarming sight: Loona, the gloomy pup he had risked everything to save, was awake and playful, her laughter filling the room with a sense of joy.

Beside her stood a demoness, her demeanor calm and welcoming. With short black hair framing her face and golden eyes gleaming with kindness, she introduced herself as Melora, a representative of Overlord Husker.

Blitzo listened intently as Melora explained the recent turn of events: Overlord Husker had seized control of Overlord Henrion's territory, and in the process, had extended an invitation for Blitzo and Loona to stay until they had fully recovered. Furthermore, if they had nowhere else to go, Husker was willing to offer them a place to stay and employment under his security team. This offer came with a room, food, and a good salary.

Blitzo, still feeling a bit disoriented, blinked a few times, his mind struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of events. "So... let me get this straight," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. "You're saying that this Overlord Husker guy just... wants me to join his team?"

Melora nodded reassuringly. "That's right. He sees potential in you, Blitzo. Your skills are valuable, especially in a place like Pentagram City."

Blitzo glanced down at Loona, who was now resting her head on his lap, her eyes shining with trust. "And Loona? What about her?"

"Loona is more than welcome to stay with you. Overlord Husker understands the importance of family." Melora explained gently.

A sense of warmth spread through Blitzo's chest at Melora's words. "I... I appreciate the offer. More than you know. But, uh, why exactly is Husker being so... generous?"

Melora's expression softened. "He's seen what you're capable of, Blitzo. And he believes that you could be a valuable asset to his team."

Loona tugged at Blitzo's sleeve, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she chirped happily. Blitzo chuckled, ruffling her fur affectionately. "Looks like we've got ourselves a new gig, Loons. What do you say?"

Loona barked in agreement, her tail wagging furiously as she nuzzled Blitzo's hand. It was a silent confirmation, a shared understanding between them that this opportunity was too good to pass up.

With a nod of determination, Blitzo turned back to Melora. "Alright, you can tell Husker I'm in. We'll make it work."

Melora nodded, a glint of admiration in her eyes. "Excellent choice, Blitzo. I'll let him know right away. Welcome to The Cat's Den family."

As Blitzo settled back against the pillows, Loona curled up beside him, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope flicker to life within him. Perhaps, amidst the chaos of Pentagram City, they had found a sanctuary—a place where they could belong, together.