The Dusk of Dawn

Chapter One- Ling City

The Ling City’s lights never faded. Glowing neon ads, flashing restaurant doors, lights coming from every window of large apartments, and street lamps that lit up the car-filled road every night. In bars and inns across the street, people sat, slamming tables, dancing with mugs of beer, and tossing coins in the air. Under the glorious surface of the city, within the basements of deserted storages, large gambling areas spread across the rooms lit by white cold lights 

The head of the city’s gangsters, the most powerful ruffian, sat at the table in the middle of the room. In front of him was a young teenager, about the age of fourteen with a low flat nose and dark black pupils that nearly filled up his sharp, squinting sclera. He barely left the basement or his chamber, resulting in his skin turning unusually whiter than most Asian people, although that did not affect the growth of his short, hard hair as black as coal.

His full concentration was on the cards he held in his hand, playing against the head of the gangsters. He calculated which cards Jeremy might have in hand whilst trying to predict what card he might lay out and what cards he had to save for them.

He glanced up. Jeremy smiled smugly, with two last cards in his hands while the boy counted six in his.

He bit his lips and placed down a three. The smallest card.

Jeremy slowly laid a joker on top of the three with a grin flashing across his face. The boy picked out all of the four fives and laid them down.

Jeremy laughed. Four of the same cards were the largest ones, no single card could beat them, only four of the same cards whose numbers are larger than the four the opponent placed can win it. But now he only had one card left.

Zac Ling, his expression blank, revealed his last card. A nine.

“I won,” He croaked. “Sir.”

“Of course,” Jeremy acknowledged lightly. Sliding a hundred dollar note to him. “You always do.”

Zac tucked the note into his dark, black velvet suit and sighed.

“When will my metal and blacksmiths be ready?” He asked. “I finished the design of the new foldable knife ages ago.”

“A week,” Jeremy replied. He held out his hand and one of the servants dressed in black placed a box of cigarettes on it. “Smoke?”

“No, thank you.” Zac shook his head. “I’d like to live for a few more years.”

“I don’t understand gamble kings who don’t smoke or cheat,” Jeremy said, raising his brows as an uproar emitted from a table somewhere behind him. But he didn’t look around, nor did Zac. “You’re still keeping that pet of yours?”

Zac ran his fingers along his collar. “He’s Jackson, sir. And he’s a friend. But he’s leaving soon.”

“For where?” He asked, lighting his cigarette with a golden lighter.

Zac stood up and picked up his suitcase, patting his trousers, he bowed lightly. “Somewhere,” He replied. “Always somewhere. Goodnight, sir. It was a nice game.”

He then turned and left, his polished boots clanking on the metal staircase. He pulled open a wooden door at the top of the stairs and walked out into a dark alley, low class yobs around the street scrambled away at the sight of him or crouched and bowed low. He pulled his hat down and walked out to the light-filled night street of the Ling City, then headed for a bar around the corner of Tian Xi road, just a few streets across from his house.

He walked into the empty alcohol-smelling bar as the rusted bell on top of him rang, its sound resounding around the room. There were a few chairs, neatly stacked into the corner and a few tables arranged neatly beside poster-covered walls.

A man walked out of a door dappled by curtains. He smiled and bowed at the sight of Zac, then reached for the sparkling drink Zac always ordered in the inn.

“How are you, sir?” He asked, sliding the glass toward him.

“Good,” Zac answered, taking a sip. He pulled out the hundred worth note and placed it on the counter. “Take it all.”

The barman gasped and tried pushing the note back, but Zac stood up, emptied the glass, and placed it back onto the counter, upside down.

“Keep it,” He muttered, wiping his mouth. “The kid of yours won’t live long if you return this note. Not that I’d grieve for him.”

The barman nodded fervently and thanked Zac as he headed back for his house.

Jackson was already heaving up a large, clanking bag when he returned. Jackson had a towel wrapped around his head, covering half of his forehead. His eyes were small and beady, so minuscule that only two black lines and glitter of watery light were visible.

“You’re leaving?” Zac asked. Jackson nodded, he didn’t say anything.

“You’re not returning?”

He shook his head.

“Yeah, whatever.” He shrugged, taking off his hat and setting it on a chair. “You’d better leave fast. I’m sure Jeremy would be sending men after you.” He paused. “Where will you be heading?”

“Good question,” Jackson said. “I haven’t decided. Not Garavia, I'd be much more likely to get caught and sold as a slave. Not the Flow Jungle, I do not like studying and spending my whole life worshipping a statue. Not Luana, the people there have brains made of piles with rotting mangoes. That leaves me with the Dark Island.”

“Where you’d get eaten within a second,” Zac teased. “That’s worse than being caught by Jeremy.”

“Where I’d get force-fed with drugs? No thanks,” Jackson rolled his eyes. His whole eyes turned white when that happened since only a really small portion of his eyes were shown. “And dragons are not that bad.”

“She hates coconuts,” Zac hissed. “People who can hate coconuts are not to be trusted.”

“For you, not me.” Jackson shrugged and walked out. “Bye. Maybe I'll see you again.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Zac said unemotionally as Jackson shut the door behind him. “Bye.”

Zac Ling spent his whole life until now learning how to make weapons, fight and play poker. He was an expert at it now, famous for doing so. He earned lots of money just by playing those cards and gambling with them, purely based on his talents. He did not like cheating, and everyone who tried doing so to win against him, well, none of them had ever opened their eyes again. He’d spent five years on his own, wading around the street and fighting with other wandering street boys. Sometimes rich ones, just to get some money for food. Jeremy, the mafia boss of Ling City adopted him around the age of six, and he’d been working for him ever since. He was now the most feared and respected gangster member, being Jeremy’s second in command. He attended special events and was always in sync with where Jeremy was up to.

He was also the only one who had shared the story of the execution of Abronze Lasbender within their g**g. Jeremy had warned him about Abronze’s powers and how he boasted about leaving them on the world. Zac did not prefer adventures and going into places he was not familiar with or searching for legendary magical items or venturing into an isolated island of a terrible dragon who hates coconuts, unlike Jackson. However, there’s a part of him, just a tiny bit that grew curiosity in the power to control others’ fate. That would be more useful than any weapon he could ever come up with.

But curiosity killed the cat. He’d learned that from many other unfortunate g**g members and Jackson, who was supposed to be aiding him with metalwork but really did nothing except annoying him all day. Jackson reached into the secrets of Jeremy, something he didn’t want to be exposed. Jeremy now doubted that Jackson had successfully done that, so there he was, travelling off to dragon-filled volcanic islands.

Zac sighed and picked up a coconut drink beside him. One of his most important life ambitions was to travel to the Luana islands, where coconut trees sprouted over every inch of the ground. Maybe he’d go there one day…

He touched his face lightly. His skin was smoother than even most young women.

He’d rather keep to himself for now. He hated others touching him or his possessions. Especially if that person was touching any one of his sets of ten-year-old cards. And from what he’d heard, Luana people were quite disrespectful in terms of personal space and possessions.

*

Jackson opened his eyes, blinking. He was three steps away from Zac’s house before Jeremy’s men appeared from all directions to grab him. He fought them off, of course. But barely. He managed to hop into a boat and sail off when they started throwing knives and bricks or any harmful thing the g**g could find. He remembered Jeremy himself at the port as he went…

He tried to get up and winced as his shoulder had been shot. A sudden wave of pain swam through his body.

That was the place where Jeremy's bullet had hit him. If it came a few more millimetres closer to his neck, he’d be dead.

He looked around. He was on a beach of dark black rocks. There was no clear sunlight and the smoke-filled air made him choke and cough every few breaths. The sky was thick with dark, heavy clouds and the air felt unbelievably roasting. He staggered up.

He’d been washed ashore to the Dark Island— the dangerous territory of Shelly the Dragon, just as he had aimed for.