The problem with creating a "Gothic Noir" casino wasn't the décor. Obsidian and velvet were easy when you could reshape reality with your mind. The problem was the goblin building the slot machines.

CLANG.

A gear the size of a dinner plate flew across the Grand Foyer, embedding itself into the newly polished black marble wall just inches from Maira's head. Maira didn't flinch. She simply adjusted her rimless glasses and made a mark on her clipboard.

"That is the third projectile in five minutes," Maira stated, her voice tight. "At this rate of attrition, we will run out of brass fittings before the guests arrive. And we have forty-eight hours."

Reed ducked under a flying wrench and walked toward the center of the chaos.

The Grand Foyer of Floor 1 was unrecognizable. The "Trap Hallway" was gone. In its place was a cavernous, open-concept gambling floor. The ceiling was vaulted and shadowed, lit by floating violet mana-orbs that cast a smoky, seductive glow over the rows of gaming tables. But in the center of the room, surrounded by sparks and cursing, was Grika.

The goblin engineer was vibrating. Literally. She was perched on top of a massive, half-built roulette wheel, wielding a welding torch in one hand and a hammer in the other. Her orange-red hair was standing up in static spikes, and her green skin was flushed with a feverish purple hue. The new "Shadow Evolutions" were visible. Glowing violet circuitry tattoos pulsed along her arms, syncing with the frantic beat of her heart.

"More torque!" Grika screamed at no one in particular. "It needs to spin faster! If it doesn't break the sound barrier, how will they know they're losing?!"

She slammed the hammer down. The roulette wheel spun with a terrifying whirrrr that quickly escalated into a high-pitched whine. Smoke began to pour from the bearings.

"Grika!" Reed shouted.

She didn't hear him. She was lost in the sauce.

"And the slots!" Grika cackled, her eyes swirling with amethyst light. "Explosive jackpots! Literally! If you hit triple sevens, it fires confetti made of magnesium! Only 30% chance of third-degree burns!"

Reed looked at Maira. "She's manic," Reed said.

"She is suffering from Void Toxicity," Maira corrected, tapping the ledger. "Specifically, [Kinetic Frustration]. Her Shadow Rot is manifesting as an obsessive need for mechanical perfection. If she does not release the energy, she will either dismantle the casino or detonate herself."

Reed sighed. He checked his HUD.

[STAFF STATUS: GRIKA]

Condition: Shadow Rot (Active).

Manifestation: Kinetic Overload. Stress: 94% (Critical).

Prescription: Percussive Maintenance.

"Right," Reed muttered, rolling up the sleeves of his velvet coat. "Maintenance time."

He walked up to the roulette wheel. Grika was currently trying to attach a rocket booster to the ball return mechanism.

"Grika," Reed said, stepping into her workspace.

"Not now, Boss!" Grika yelled, sparks flying from her goggles. "I'm calibrating the odds! I need to factor in wind resistance and the existential dread of poverty!"

Reed didn't argue. He reached out and grabbed her by the back of her grease-stained overalls.

"Hey!" Grika yelped as he hoisted her into the air. She kicked her legs, still holding the welding torch. "Put me down! The payout ratios are all wrong! The house edge isn't sadistic enough!"

"You're overheating, Grika," Reed said calmly. "We're taking a break."

"I don't need a break! I need tungsten!"

Reed ignored her. He turned to Maira. "Clear the floor," Reed ordered. "Don't let anyone touch her machines until we get back."

Maira smirked a tiny, knowing expression that vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Understood, Sir. Enjoy your… calibration."

Floor 3 – The Iron Works (The Grease Pit)

Reed didn't take her to a bedroom. That wasn't Grika's style. He took her to the Workshop.

The air on Floor 3 was thick with the smell of ozone, hot iron, and heavy oil. The magma channels, now flowing freely again thanks to Terra, cast a deep orange glow over the industrial hellscape. The only sound was the rhythmic thrum of the distant machinery.

Reed carried the squirming goblin over to the "Grease Pit", a literal depression in the floor filled with spare parts, hydraulic fluid, and piles of soft, oil-soaked rags. He dropped her.

Grika landed on her feet like a cat, immediately spinning around to face him. Her wrench was raised, her chest heaving. The violet circuitry on her skin was blindingly bright now, casting jagged shadows against the walls.

"Why are we here?!" Grika demanded, her voice cracking with static. "The casino isn't done! The math is incomplete!"

"The math is fine," Reed said, stepping into the pit. "You're the problem. You're shaking, Grika."

He held up a hand. It was steady. Grika looked at her own hands. They were trembling violently, purple sparks jumping between her fingers.

"I… I just have a lot of energy," she stammered, her ears drooping slightly. "The Shadow… it feels like an engine revving in my chest. If I stop moving, I feel like I'm going to explode. I need to build. I need to break."

"So break me," Reed challenged.

His eyes flashed violet. He triggered [Overlord Mode], just a sliver of it. The aura of command rolled off him, heavy and dark, filling the small workshop with a pressure that made the air taste like metal. "Come at me, Grika. Discharge the static."

Grika blinked. Her pupils dilated until her yellow eyes were almost swallowed by black. The Shadow in her recognized the Shadow in him. The frustration in her gut twisted into something else. Something hungrier.

"You want to go, Boss?" Grika grinned, dropping her stance. It was a feral, toothy expression. She tossed the wrench aside with a clang. "I play dirty."

"I'm counting on it."

She launched herself at him.

Grika was small, barely four feet tall, but she hit like a cannonball made of muscle and spite. She slammed into his chest, wrapping her legs around his waist and trying to drive him into the ground. Reed grunted, bracing his feet. He didn't use magic. He used weight. He grabbed her by the waist and spun, using her momentum to slam her back-first into a pile of canvas tarps.

"Too slow," Reed taunted, pinning her hips down.

Grika let out a growl that was half-laugh, half-shriek. She didn't stay pinned. She was slippery with oil and sweat. She scrambled up, twisting out of his grip, and grabbed a handful of oil-soaked rags, throwing them in his face to blind him. Reed ripped the rags away just in time to see her diving for his legs.

WHAM.

She tackled him. Reed went down hard into the mess of the pit, oil splashing up around them. Grika was on top of him instantly, straddling his chest, pinning his wrists to the floor with surprising strength.

"Pinned!" Grika panted, her face inches from his. "Win condition met! Now let me go back to work!"

"Not yet," Reed growled.

He bucked his hips. Hard. Grika gasped as the movement threw her balance off. Reed tore one hand free, grabbed the back of her overalls, and flipped her. Now he was on top. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. With the other, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Look at me, Grika."

She squirmed, her body bucking against his. The friction was incredible, the slip of the oil, the heat of the magma, the electric buzz of the Void mana arcing between their skins. "Let go!" Grika whined, but she wasn't fighting to escape anymore. She was fighting for friction. She ground her hips against his thigh, her breath hitching.

"You need to ground the charge," Reed whispered.

He lowered his head and kissed her. It wasn't romantic. It was bitey. Grika tasted like copper and cherry cola. She bit his lip, drawing a drop of blood that sizzled with mana. The kiss broke the dam. Grika let out a high-pitched mechanical squeak and stopped fighting him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him down, harder, deeper.

"Boss," she moaned into his mouth, her hands scrabbling at his back, tearing the silk of his shirt. "Too much voltage. Take it. Take it out."

"I've got you," Reed promised.

He shifted his weight. He didn't unclothe her completely, there was no time, and the overalls were part of the charm. He unhooked the straps. He slid his hands under the heavy denim, finding the hot, slick skin of her waist. Grika arched into his touch, her back coming off the floor. Her tattoos flared bright violet, illuminating the sweat on her skin.

It was messy. It was loud. It was industrial. They wrestled in the grease, rolling over spare parts and tangled wires. Every touch was a spark. Every movement was a discharge of energy. Grika was vocal, loud, sharp cries that echoed off the metal walls. She bit his shoulder. She scratched his back. She treated intimacy like a contact sport, and Reed matched her energy, holding her down, dominating the chaos until she finally, finally broke.

"REED!" Grika screamed, her entire body seizing up.

A shockwave of violet mana blasted out from her, blowing the nearby tools off the workbench. She collapsed against him, panting, her heart hammering against his chest like a piston engine running on overdrive.

Reed held her. He was covered in oil. His shirt was ruined. He was exhausted. But the air in the workshop was calm. The static was gone.

"System… check… complete," Grika whispered, her voice husky and slurred. She rested her cheek on his chest, her eyes half-closed. "Pressure… stabilized."

Reed kissed the top of her messy, orange hair. "Good girl."

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[Daily Grind Quest: Complete.]

[Target: Grika.]

[Effect: Soul Mana Generated. Shadow Rot Stabilized.]

[Reward: Grika gains buff [Master Builder] - +50% Efficiency, -100% Mania.]

The Innovation

An hour later, they were back in the Foyer.

Reed had changed into a fresh tunic (black silk, courtesy of Maira, who didn't ask about the oil stains on the old one), and Grika had washed most of the grease off her face, though she still smelled pleasantly of gasoline.

She stood in front of the slot machines she had been building. The manic, vibrating energy was gone, replaced by a sharp, focused clarity.

"Wow," Grika said, scratching her head with a wrench. "That roulette wheel really was going to explode. The bearings are fused. I was trying to break the laws of physics with a hammer."

"Fix it," Reed said, leaning against a pillar. "But keep the flash. Just… remove the shrapnel. We want them to lose money, not fingers."

"On it," Grika said. She pulled out her slate, her eyes lighting up with genuine inspiration. "Boss, I had an idea in the pit. While you were… pinning me."

"Oh no."

"No, listen! Why are we giving them gold?" Grika gestured to the machines. "Adventurers have gold. They don't want money. They want stuff."

She sketched a diagram in the air with glowing mana. "Loot Boxes," Grika announced. "We rig the machines. They don't pay out coins. They pay out… Tokens."

"Tokens?"

"Dungeon Tokens! Redeemable at the prize counter!" Grika listed them off on her fingers, her grin widening. "Tier 1 Prize: A slice of Pizza (Buffs stamina)." "Tier 2 Prize: A healing potion (watered down, nice bottle)." "Tier 3 Prize: A 'Mystery Box' (Could be a sword, could be a mimic)."

She paused for dramatic effect. She pointed to the Mezzanine balcony, where Seraphine was currently draping herself over the railing, sharpening her spear and looking bored.

"And the Jackpot? The Legendary Prize?" Grika whispered conspiratorially. "A 'Private Audience' with a Floor Guardian."

Reed raised an eyebrow. "Prostitution, Grika?"

"No!" Grika looked offended. "Parasocial relationships! Non-combat interactions! Just… drinks. Or a spar. Or insults. Imagine some sweaty rogue paying 500 gold just to have Seraphine call him 'trash' for five minutes."

Reed stared at the goblin. It was diabolical. It preyed on the two things adventurers loved most: Gambling and Waifus. It monetized the very thing the Authority hated, the monsters' personalities.

"Grika," Reed said solemnly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're a genius. Build it."

Grika beamed, her yellow eyes shining. "You got it, Boss. But first…" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, greasy bolt. She pressed it into his hand.

"What's this?"

"A token," Grika winked. "Redeemable for one more wrestling match. Whenever you want."

She turned and sprinted back to the roulette wheel, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like an explosion.

Reed pocketed the bolt. He looked at the casino floor taking shape. They were going to be rich. Or they were going to be arrested. Either way, it was going to be a hell of a show.

[QUEST UPDATE: CASINO CONSTRUCTION.]

[Progress: 45%.]

[Time Remaining: 3 Days.]

[Next Up: Maira and the Uniforms.]

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