The game being played was called Texas Hold'em, an enduring staple that had surfaced shortly after the Cataclysmic Emergence. As for what 'Texas' was or what it referred to, neither Sorin nor anyone else he'd ever spoken to had any idea. But the game had stuck against all odds and was now widely played regardless of wealth or social standing.

Sorin received his drink shortly after sitting down and took a sip. "Sunfire Whiskey," he said, letting out a contented sigh. "My father didn't let me try it last time I came over. He wasn't kidding when he called it a divine drink that could intoxicate even demigods."

"Its ability to bypass poison resistance is the stuff of legends," agreed Michael. "Even a practitioner of the Ten Thousand Poison Canon won't be completely immune to its effects. There are snacks on a side table over there, which I see your rat has found; that glass is enchanted to constantly refill.

"One last introduction is necessary—yours. This is Sorin Kepler from the Kepler Clan, the current heir to the Ten Thousand Poison Canon. I'm sure you've all done your research on him since he was one of those who managed to obtain a divine blessing."

Charles snorted. "More like he squeaked his way into our group."

Michael ignored Charles. "Now that introductions are over and you've all had time to warm up let's change the game up. Mortimer, could you kindly fetch me the deck?"

"Right away, Young Master," said the butler as he reached under the table and pulled out a deck of cards. "Please allow me to remind you that if you damage these cards, you won't be able to escape the administrator's wrath."

"Relax," said Michael. "These are four-star cards, and there's no way two-star god seeds can damage them."

"Then I wish you a merry game," said Mortimer. "Please call me if you require my services. I will recuse myself so that I don't needlessly interfere in your social interactions." With that, the butler left the living room, activating a privacy barrier on his way out.

After confirming that the butler was truly gone, Michael spread the cards out on the table to show them to his guests. "These are four-star tamper-proof cards," explained Michael. "They're immune to mana, karmic inference, divine energy, and all substances below the demigod level. These cards are hard to come by and will be instrumental in allowing us to play with the revised rules we'll be using."

"You want to change the game after we've already bought in?" asked Bast, looking none too impressed. "Then count me out. I'm here on retainer and losing money due to an impromptu rule change is not what I signed up for."

"Stay, Bast," said Melinoë. "If you do, I'll cover any losses you incur. In return, you'll give me half your earnings."

"That sounds an awful lot like collusion in this friendly game," noted Sorin.

"That's her ability," said Michael with a shrug. "It's also part of what makes this variant so exciting."

"Just so we're clear, we're still playing Texas Hold'em?" asked Onesca Mayfair.

"With a slight rule change," assured Michael. " One rule, specifically: the prohibition against the use of skills and abilities."

Charles Hargrave laughed. "Are you saying I'm allowed to poison people and get away with it?"

"Non-lethal poison," corrected Michael. "All abilities are fair game, as long as they're not lethal and won't leave permanent damage. As for temporary damage… well, our house has the best life mages on the continent and boasts some of the best physicians in Delphi. Whatever damage you suffer, I'm certain we can have you back in tip-top shape before the Shrine Descent. What's more, I'll even pay for your treatment."

Sorin frowned as he considered the implications. Charles, he wasn't afraid of, as Toxic Metabolism was highly effective against him, but he was quite nervous about facing off against Melinoë, even in this 'controlled' setting. That being said, it was the perfect opportunity for him to feel her out without feeling overly threatened.

Then again, she suggested this event, which means she probably expected something like this to happen, thought Sorin. Should I take the bait or recuse myself?

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"I'll ask again—would anyone prefer not to play?" asked Michael. "There won't be any hard feelings. I know most of you have abilities you've been trying to keep hidden."

"Screw it. Why not," said Faile Atlan. "You only live once. To clarify, inspection abilities are allowed. And I'm allowed to mark your cards?"

"By all means, try marking them," said Michael. "These are four-star cards; even a demigod would have trouble doing so. Does anyone else have any questions?"

"Could you clarify if familiars are allowed to participate?" asked Sorin. He'd noticed a few creatures flitting about, all of which could be used to spy for their owners.

"Familiars are naturally allowed," confirmed Michael. "And I'll take that one step further by clarifying that any use of mana, blood, spiritual energy, and items is also allowed. That includes divine items." His words were a not-so-subtle jab at Sorin's apothecary examination.

"This puts me at a large disadvantage," said Fenrig, the barbarian. "But I accept. Let us see if any of you will be able to withstand my aura at full power. Please forgive any offense I might cause, pretty lady."

Onesca sniffed. "Just don't come crying when you bite off more than you can chew."

"You do indeed look like quite the mouthful," said Fenrig with a laugh. "Let us see if your bite is as bad as your bark."

"If that's everything, let's get started," said Michael. "Onesca, it's your turn to deal. Sorin, you're late at the table, so blind in. And seeing as this will be an intense game, we'll keep it short and stop after 3 hours."

"My apologies for offending everyone present, but I foresee terrible luck in your future," said Onesca. The curse mage passed out cards, and also sent tiny spell forms out with them.

Sorin immediately recognized the diminutive spells as ones tailored for bypassing spell resistances. As he'd practiced many times in recent days, he initiated a spell-breaking protocol centered around himself to dissolve the curse before looking at his pair of pocket cards.

Though Sorin used utmost caution when looking at his cards, he still felt three sets of eyes brush past them from different positions at the table. At the same time, Lorimer, who'd blended into his surroundings, delivered similar information back to Sorin about three of his opponents.

King Ten on-suit isn't terrible, but only if you consider the hands Lorimer snuck a peak at. Three of my opponents have elevated heart rates, but judging by one of their hands, I can't rashly make any conclusions and will need to collate information.

What's more, my inspection skills are indirect at best. Faile and Michael, on the other hand, will be able to glean a lot more information from everyone's body language. Everyone here has their strengths and their weaknesses.

Finally, there's Melinoë. She has authority over emotions, interactions, rationality, and misfortune. Her tendrils are already making their way around the table, infecting her opponents. Is she using this game as a pretense to potentially infect top performers and recruit allies? Such overt means would likely be easily discovered by the infected.

Each player had their preferred approach to playing the game. Charles, for example, played conservatively as he carefully poisoned everyone with mind-and-mood-altering spells that forced them to misplay and basically give him unwarranted money.

The room became a clash of skills, spells, heroic and divine abilities. Chips flowed to those who won out in this exchange and away from those who lost.

"What's the matter, Sorin? Feeling scared?" asked Melinoë as she and Sorin faced off for a generous pot. Though she was taunting him, Sorin could tell that it took a great effort for her to even due to a combination of the paralytic he'd affected her body with Charles's poison.

Despite her handicap, Sorin found it difficult to proceed. Melinoë had given up on trying to infect him with her threads earlier on and was instead forcing him to experience nightmares. In the end, he was unable to respond and call her bluff, and as a result, the pot went to her by default.

It wasn't long before the game suffered its first casualty: not Fenrig the barbarian as one might expect, but Onesca instead. The curse mage had succeeded in skewing her opponents' luck, but this had backfired; no one at the table dared face off against her without a sufficient edge, preventing her from gaining as much as she lost.

More importantly, affecting luck on such a grand scale was very draining. Her stamina was eventually unable to keep up, and she was forced to withdraw with only half her chips remaining.

Fenrig was the next to fall. Though his intimidating aura was potent when used to bluff, it was a risky tactic. Bast, being a potent light mage with a divine inheritance, had very high resistance to mood-altering effects, and, as a result, he was able to resist folding when the barbarian called him all in.

This proved fortunate for Sorin because Fenrig's aura had indeed been problematic. The Violence in his body immediately calmed down when the barbarian left the table, but not without raising the demand for an outlet within the week.

Aside from reading and resistance to mind-altering effects, Faile, the dungeoneer had no other special abilities and was, therefore, forced to retreat with two-thirds of her chips remaining.

Joseph, the demon hunter, was in the same boat, though, unlike Faile, he went out with style and pitted himself against Melinoë with all his remaining chips, handing her over a small fortune.

Fifth to fall was Owen Macleod. The silent swordsman was a man of few words, but his mind was as sharp as his aura, which destroyed any attempts at bypassing it. Unfortunately, swordsmen weren't known for their stamina, and he, too, lost all his chips and was forced to retire.

In the end, it still came down to the original five members who had confronted the floor boss during the Shrine Descent: Michael, Charles, Melinoë, Bast, and, of course, Sorin.