As A Mafia Boss, I Refuse To Be An Extra

Chapter 355: Gambled

The sun rose behind them.

Damian dragged himself forward with his right arm, his shattered leg scraping behind him, leaving blood on ground already soaked with it. His left arm was gone. The stump had stopped bleeding but every movement sent fresh pain through his shoulder.

’Vash.’

The distance felt like a kilometer.

Vash swayed on his feet, one hand pressed against his chest. The hole where his heart should be was visible even from here, dark and wrong. Blood ran between his fingers but not enough. Not the amount that should be pouring from a wound like that.

Damian reached him as his knees gave out.

Thud

Vash hit the ground, his massive frame making the impact sound heavier than it should..

Behind them, Elizabeth sat unmoving where Vermont had placed her, her one remaining arm wrapped around Adrian’s unconscious form, her face empty of everything except grief.

Vermont knelt beside them, his grey face aged decades in a single night, his hands trembling from exertion and loss.

Damian ignored them for now, his entire focus on the man bleeding out in front of him.

Vash looked up at the brightening sky, a bitter smile twisting his lips.

"I wanted to... I wanted to enter the Mafia for real, you know? Actually join instead of just hiding. Help build something worth protecting."

His voice was rough, broken by periodic coughs that brought blood to his lips.

"Had plans... Training programs for the kids. Thought maybe I could teach proper hand-to-hand combat. Give them something more than theory and weapon arts."

The smile widened, becoming more bitter.

"Wanted to see what you’d build, where this thing was going and maybe... maybe find a real home again instead of just running."

He coughed, crimson spraying across his chest.

"But I guess... I guess I won’t get to see how it ends."

Damian looked at him, his crimson eyes steady despite the pain radiating through his own body.

"You were the one who taught me body control, Vash."

His voice was calm and measured, carrying no panic or urgency.

"I know you can move your organs. You demonstrated it yourself during training."

Vash’s bitter smile froze on his face.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of debris settling and Vermont’s quiet weeping.

"Did I?"

Vash’s voice came out carefully neutral.

"Ah... but sadly, I’m too stupid. Forgot to move it before Jormund struck. My brain wasn’t working fast enough."

Damian sighed, the sound carrying more exasperation than concern.

He just looked at Vash, saying nothing, his expression speaking volumes about how unconvincing that performance was.

Vash held the act for another few seconds, his face maintaining that dying man’s regret.

Then his expression shifted, the theatrical despair dropping away like a discarded mask, replaced by his normal blunt practicality.

"Alright."

He sat up with a grunt, one hand still pressed against the wound in his chest, his other hand waving dismissively.

"You’re no fun... Can’t even let a man have his dramatic moment."

Despite everything, despite the exhaustion and pain, Damian felt the corner of his mouth twitch.

’This idiot...’

Before either could speak again, the air shifted.

Three presences approached with the controlled speed of S rank awakeners.

Gregor arrived first as his eyes scanned the devastation, taking in the corpses, the blood, and the survivors. Castor appeared a moment later as well. Yara materialized beside them, completing the Unnamed Four.

None of them looked at Elizabeth.

None of them acknowledged Vermont’s grief or Adrian’s unconscious form.

They walked past the broken Imperial family members without a single glance, their entire focus on Damian and Vash.

Yara dropped to her knees beside Damian, her hands already glowing with healing light, her eyes scanning his severed arm and shattered leg with professional concern.

"Where is your arm?"

Her voice was urgent but controlled, the question purely practical.

"Do you know where it landed? I need to find it before the tissue dies completely. I can reattach in some time if we–"

Kuro moved before anyone could answer.

The massive raven flew over from where he’d been guarding Elizabeth, his talons clicking against blood-soaked ground. His beak opened and he dropped several severed limbs in front of Yara with casual efficiency.

Damian’s left arm, Elizabeth’s left arm and right leg.

All collected and preserved by Kuro.

’Kuro absorbed too much death energy... Kuro needs to digest... Going to sleep now. Stay safe stupid human.’

The raven’s mental voice carried exhaustion that matched Damian’s.

Before Damian could respond, Kuro dissolved back into shadow, disappearing into the darkness at Damian’s feet, retreating to digest the feast of death energy he’d consumed from hundreds of corpses.

Yara didn’t waste time asking questions.

Her hands moved with practiced precision, Aura flooding the retrieved limbs, preservation techniques activating to maintain tissue viability.

"This will take some time. The nerves need careful reconnection, the bones need proper alignment, and rushing causes permanent damage."

She glanced at Vash, her expression showing annoyance.

"You’re fine... Stop being dramatic."

Vash grumbled something under his breath about healers having no appreciation for showmanship.

Gregor crouched beside them, his eyes on the scattered corpses, his voice quiet.

"So... it was the Death Cult?"

His tone made it not quite a question.

Vash nodded, grimacing as he shifted his position, one hand gesturing toward Jormund’s severed head lying among the debris.

"The traitor of Royce came too."

Castor’s eyes tracked the gesture, studying the head.

"Heh. Traitor or not... who knows. These Imperial families are too complex. Internal politics make it impossible to know where loyalties actually lie."

His voice carried dismissal for the entire concept of family bonds among Nobles.

Around them, the air shifted again.

Multiple S ranks presences arriving from various directions, drawn by the Domain battle’s collapse and the aftermath of devastation.

But none of them showed themselves.

Damian felt them, felt their attention, their assessment and their consideration of intervention.

Then he felt them withdraw.

Whatever forces had arrived decided the situation didn’t require their involvement and pulled back, leaving the survivors to handle their own affairs.

Vash turned his head toward Damian, his expression becoming serious despite the blood still seeping through his fingers.

"How did you know we would help?"

His voice carried genuine curiosity.

"What if we didn’t? What if we decided it wasn’t worth the risk?"

Damian met his eyes, his crimson gaze steady despite the pain radiating through his body.

"The probability of you coming was higher than you not. I just gambled."

He paused, his voice dropping slightly.

"Besides... you saved me once before."

The words hung in the air, acknowledgment of debt and the calculation that had led him to take the risk.

Vash studied him for a long moment, then snorted, shaking his head.

"Gambling with your life based on this... You really are insane."