Lucian leaned back against the battered table, his breath slowing as the last remnants of chaos energy faded from his veins. The fifth Bloodpiercer card hummed faintly where it lay, its surface a dull gleam in the dim light of his room. Almost three weeks of grueling work had brought him here. The Bloodpiercer, replicated with chaotic precision, was now complete. But the toll of its creation lingered. An ache in his chest, a whisper at the edge of his mind, persistent and tempting.
The whispers were louder now. Not quite words but promises, half-formed ideas pulling at his thoughts. He had grown used to them, even learned to drown them out, but their grip was undeniable. A part of him wanted to listen, to give in to the chaos that now defined him. The other part fought back, clinging to what remained of his humanity.
Triboulet's voice slithered through his mind, sharp and amused. "You're getting good at this, Lucian. Efficient. Resourceful. Almost makes me proud." The laughter that followed was grating, jagged, like nails dragged across glass. "And look at you! Still sane, or close enough. Your body's adapting nicely to the chaos."
Lucian scowled, ignoring the mockery. "It's not without cost." His voice was low, edged with frustration. "I feel it, Triboulet. Every time I create, something slips. A piece of me is... different."
Triboulet's response was a purr of satisfaction. "Oh, my dear wildcard, that's the beauty of it. Power has its price. Morality is just a luxury you'll shed soon enough."
Lucian clenched his fists, the faint glow of the wildcard mark on his hand catching his eye. The grin was sharper now, more vivid, as though it shared Triboulet's amusement. His chest tightened. "It's not that easy," he muttered, more to himself than to the entity.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant clamor of the inn below. He stood, forcing himself to move despite the weight of exhaustion. His funds were dwindling, the rent and materials for the cards having drained almost fifteen silvers. Only three silver and sixty-eight coppers remained, a paltry sum considering the dangers that now surrounded him.
Ironshade's warriors were growing bolder. Their presence loomed in Rismond like a storm on the horizon, searching, waiting. Lucian's survival depended on staying one step ahead. His plans revolved around the cards he created, each one a tool to tip the scales in his favor. But they weren't enough. Not yet.
Going down to the common room, Lucian was met with the usual cacophony of voices and the scent of stale ale. Chance, the innkeeper, glanced up from behind the bar, his sharp eyes lingering a moment too long. Lucian felt the weight of that gaze, the unspoken question behind it. Lately, Chance had been watching him more closely, as if piecing together a puzzle. The faint cries that sometimes escaped Lucian's room didn't help.
"Morning," Chance said, his tone neutral. His hands worked methodically, wiping down a glass that had likely seen better days. "Sleep well?"
Lucian offered a faint nod, keeping his expression impassive. "Well enough."
The lie tasted bitter. Sleep had become a battleground, the whispers invading even his dreams. Faces of the other wildcards that were executed with him, their dying cries echoing in his mind. He shook the thought away, focusing on the task ahead.
Triboulet's voice was a constant companion, his tone laced with excitement. "We should prepare the cards. The Bloodpiercers are ready, but why stop there? There's so much potential, Lucian. Let's explore it."
Lucian ignored him, approaching the bar with a calm, deliberate stride. "The usual," he said simply, his tone flat.
Chance studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding and moving to fulfill the order. When he returned, he set the plate down with a motion. "You've been keeping busy," he remarked, his tone casual but probing.
Lucian's hand tightened around the edge of the counter. "Just work," he replied, forcing the words to sound light.
Chance didn't press further, but the weight of his gaze lingered as Lucian took his meal to a corner table. The bread was coarse and dry, the water lukewarm, but it was sustenance. He ate quickly, his mind already on his next move.
The Diamond Fangs were demanding more Bloodpiercers, their conflict with the Black Hand escalating into open warfare. Old Snake had been clear about the stakes during their last meeting. The price of the cards had risen to seventy silver, driven higher by the relentless pressure from the Diamond Fangs, who were hounding Old Snake to deliver results. Lucian needed to understand the connection between the creatures he used and the cards they became. The Windstalker's blood, infused with chaos, had given the Bloodpiercer its speed and lethality, but its ability to strike true every time puzzled him. The Windstalker had no such trait, leaving Lucian uncertain of where that particular effect had originated. It only deepened his curiosity about the potential hidden within the chaotic energy and the beings it consumed.
Triboulet's laughter echoed again, sharp and mocking. "Oh, the questions you ask, Lucian. So curious, so desperate to control what you don't understand."
Lucian's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. The whispers crept closer, brushing against the edges of his mind as he rose from the table. The day stretched ahead, fraught with uncertainty and the ever-present threat of discovery. But Lucian moved with purpose, each step a defiance of the chaos that sought to claim him.
The path he walked was treacherous, the stakes higher than ever. But he would endure. He had to. Survival was no longer a choice but it was the only thing keeping the whispers at bay.
…
As Lucian pulled on his coat, his thoughts drifted to his next move. The Soul Carver weighed heavily on his mind, its dark power both a tool and a curse. He needed more opportunities to study it, to understand its potential and its limits. The thought of bounty hunting crossed his mind, its appeal twofold: a chance to experiment and an opportunity to rid Rismond of the scum that plagued its streets. He had no interest in taking on high-ranked opponents, not yet but the chaos in the city offered no shortage of targets.
His burns, now healed, were a small comfort. His body had endured much over the past few weeks, adapting to the chaos energy that coursed through him. The scars on his mind, however, were another matter. The weight of his actions lingered, and though he justified them as survival, the line between necessity and choice blurred more with every step.
After finishing his meal and exchanging a few more curt words with Chance, Lucian left the inn, his destination set. Old Snake's shop loomed ahead, its crooked frame a reflection of its owner's cunning. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ink and old wood. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with scraps of enchanted materials and tools for crafting.
Old Snake looked up from his workbench, his beady eyes narrowing as Lucian entered. "About time," he said, his tone gruff but expectant. "The deadline's close, and I figured you'd show up sooner or later."
Lucian stepped forward, summoning the five Bloodpiercer cards from his storage card with a flicker of energy. The cards materialized in his hand, their faint hum resonating in the still air, before he placed them on the counter. Old Snake's hands were quick but careful as he picked one up, his gaze sharpening as he examined its surface.
"They're asking for more," Old Snake said after a moment, his voice low. "The Diamond Fangs are putting pressure on me. The Black Hand's fighting back hard. It's all-out war out there, and they're desperate for an edge. These cards are exactly what they need."
Lucian crossed his arms, watching Old Snake carefully. "What's it worth to them?"
Old Snake's lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained calculating. "Seventy silver," he said, the number heavy in the air. "That's what they're offering. They're desperate enough to pay it, but the risk is growing. I'll be honest, Lucian, they'll need more soon. You up for another job?"
Lucian's eyes flicked to the cards on the counter before meeting Old Snake's gaze. "Not now. I need to rest. I'll let you know when I'm ready for more."
Old Snake grunted, his expression neutral, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Fair enough. Just don't take too long. This conflict isn't slowing down."
As Lucian stepped out of the shop, his mind turned to the process of creation. The Bloodpiercers were valuable, but their creation left too many questions unanswered. He needed to experiment further. The Windstalker had given the cards speed and lethality, but there were other creatures, other beasts, whose essences might unlock new and unexpected effects. The only way to truly understand the chaotic energy at play was to test its limits with different sources. The thought settled in his mind as he walked back into the chaotic streets of Rismond.
"Triboulet," Lucian said casually as he walked, his tone less tense than it had once been. "The Windstalker gave the Bloodpiercer its speed and lethality, but what about the ability to strike true? It doesn't make sense. Where did that come from?"
Triboulet's laughter echoed in his mind, sharp and mocking. "Oh, Lucian, always poking at the mysteries. The creature's essence is everything from its strength, its nature, its soul. That's what fuels the card. Blood is just the medium, the chaos merely a tool. But the soul..." His tone grew almost reverent, tinged with hunger. "The soul carries all the secrets. Sometimes, chaos twists things, gives you an edge you didn't expect. You should be thanking me for that one."
Lucian frowned, his stomach tightening at the implications. "So it's unpredictable. Even with the same beast, the results might vary?"
Triboulet chuckled, his tone dripping with amusement. "Exactly. That's the beauty of chaos. It keeps things... interesting."
His thoughts drifted to the five Bloodpiercers he had painstakingly crafted. While the speed and lethality were consistent across all of them, the striking true effect had varied in subtle but significant ways. One card guaranteed a perfect hit if the target was moving, its accuracy increasing with the speed of the pursuit. Another excelled against stationary foes, its precision unnervingly sharp if the target was within a fixed range. A third Bloodpiercer had an erratic tendency, it struck true only under conditions of extreme chaos, such as when multiple enemies were present or the battlefield was in disarray.
Lucian's jaw tightened as he recalled these differences. The variations were unsettling, reminders of chaos's fickle nature. Each card bore the mark of unpredictability, a reflection of the force that had shaped them. It was a power that offered strength but demanded vigilance, constantly shifting in ways Lucian couldn't fully control. He decided to call them Chaos Cards, a fitting name for creations so tied to the erratic and volatile energy that defined them. These inconsistencies gnawed at him, a puzzle he was determined to solve, even if the answer pushed him further into the abyss of the Wildcard's path.
Lucian shifted the conversation. "We're heading to the beast market. I need to figure out what to use next. Something stronger, more adaptable. Any suggestions?"
"Ah, finally ready to test your limits?" Triboulet purred. "The creatures with unique traits, ones that stand out. You'll know them when you see them. Just be prepared to pay a hefty price for anything truly special. Or, you know, take it by force."
Lucian ignored the last remark, his focus already turning toward the bustling market ahead. The noise of vendors hawking their wares grew louder as the smell of penned animals and damp earth filled the air. He felt the weight of the coins in his storage card. With three golds and fifty silvers, his funds had recovered slightly from the sale of the Bloodpiercer cards, but finding the right beast would still be a delicate balance between cost and necessity.
As they walked, Lucian posed another question. "How long will it take for me to rank up? I need to know what it takes to move forward."
Triboulet's voice lit up, unusually gleeful. "Oh, so now you want us to get stronger! I knew you had it in you, Lucian. Always so stubborn, but deep down, you've always wanted this. I like it, our rise together."
Lucian's tone grew more serious. "You said you'd teach me how to hide the mark. I need that ability sooner rather than later."
Triboulet's laughter was low and ominous, carrying a strange warmth. "Yes, yes, rank up, and I'll teach you how to blend in, how to disappear in plain sight. But hiding the mark doesn't make you safe. They'll still sense what you are. It just lets you walk among them a little longer before they figure it out."
Lucian's jaw tightened, the gravity of Triboulet's words sinking in. "Then why bother teaching me to hide it at all?"
The entity's tone softened, almost conspiratorial. "Because, Lucian, it's you and me against the world. While everyone else wants you dead, I want you alive for a while. Isn't that enough of a reason to keep going?"
Lucian remained silent, his steps measured as he approached the market. Before entering, he retrieved the Cloak of Disguise card and crushed it, letting its subtle shroud envelop him. Lately, the Ironshade House had grown increasingly strict, their presence making it too dangerous to walk openly. With his figure blurred against the surroundings, he stepped into the market. His eyes scanned the rows of cages and pens, the creatures inside restless and wary. He had no choice but to keep moving forward, to press on despite the cost. Every step brought him closer to the edge of something vast and unknowable, but turning back was no longer an option.