Lucian returned to the inn after finishing his crafting session, his mind already immersed in the details of his next experiment and the training he needed to master his synergy cards. Each combination, each technique, played over in his thoughts, refining the way he would push his abilities further.
The dim glow of lanterns flickered along the streets, casting long shadows against the walls of Rismond's alleyways. Inside the inn, the scent of ale and roasted grains lingered in the air. The familiar murmurs of drunken conversation filled the room, but Lucian paid little attention to them as he climbed the creaking stairs to his room. His focus never wavered. Every step carried him deeper into planning, every thought centered on perfecting his cards, controlling their flow, and pushing his limits. He locked the door behind him, already visualizing how the next session would unfold.
Morning came, and Lucian found himself at his usual table, picking at a plate of food with little thought. It was different from what he usually had. Meat. A rare sight in the inn. He glanced toward the bar, where Chance was busy serving customers.
"This is new," Lucian said, lifting a piece of the meat with his fork. Chance smirked from behind the counter. "Miya's birthday," he said. "Fifteen today. She'll be checked for her mark tomorrow."
Lucian set down his fork. The thought of the ceremony made his body tremble for a bit. "Fifteen," he muttered. "That's a big day." Chance nodded. "It is. She's been excited. Nervous, too, but who wouldn't be? The mark decides everything." Lucian let out a slow breath.
The mark decided more than just a future. It decided survival. "Tell her happy birthday for me," he said. Chance gave a nod. "I'll let her know." Lucian sat in silence for a while, his thoughts wandering. He should get her something. But what? His life didn't leave much room for sentiment. He would figure it out later.
Shifting the conversation, he asked, "Any new bounties posted?" Chance raised an eyebrow, setting down the mug he was cleaning. "You're looking at bounties now?" There was curiosity in his voice, but also something else. Caution. Lucian shrugged. "I need the money. And I need to experiment with my cards."
Chance's expression darkened slightly. "There are other ways to test cards. Bounty hunting isn't for Dabblers. You don't know anything about card fighting."
Lucian met his gaze, unwavering. "I'll figure it out."
Chance let out a slow sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. "Stubborn bastard," he muttered before pulling a few rolled parchments from beneath the bar. "Fine. Here. These are the current postings."
Lucian skimmed through them, his eyes scanning the details. Most were petty criminals, thieves, low-ranked troublemakers. Not worth the effort. Then, a few stood out. He noted four in particular.
"Can I have these copies?" he asked.
Chance hesitated before exhaling through his nose and grabbing the papers. "Your funeral," he muttered and handed them over. Lucian pocketed them, pushing back from the table.
"Appreciate it," he said.
Chance only grunted in response. Lucian was about to turn away when a thought struck him. He glanced back at the innkeeper.
"If I take them down, how do I claim the reward?"
Chance stopped mid-motion, his rag still in hand as he wiped down the counter. His eyes flicked up to meet Lucian's, sharp and measuring. "Are you planning on actually going through with this?"
Lucian shrugged, keeping his tone even. "If I take one down, I don't want to waste my time figuring out where to get paid after."
Chance leaned against the counter, his expression unreadable. "Depends on the bounty. Some require proof of the kill like a head, a hand, something that confirms the deed. Others want them alive, bound and delivered to the city guards. Either way, you bring proof to the bounty office near the Ironshade quarters, and they pay out."
Lucian nodded, but Chance wasn't done. He studied Lucian carefully, his gaze lingering for a moment too long. "You don't seem like the bounty-hunting type," he said slowly. "I figured you'd be making cards for other people, not running around killing for coins."
Lucian kept his expression neutral. "Like I said, I need to test out my cards and take the bounty."
Chance folded his arms, his suspicion barely hidden now. "You keep saying that, but now you're asking how to get paid without trouble. Why? You planning to take someone out that's bigger than you can handle?"
Lucian held his gaze. "Just making sure I don't run into problems."
Chance's fingers tapped against the wooden counter, his brow furrowed slightly. "No problems, huh? You bring proof to that office, and they'll have questions. They'll want to know who you are, where you got your experience. People don't just walk in off the street and start dropping bounties unless they've been doing it a while." His voice took on an edge, not outright accusing, but no longer as casual. "And I don't remember you being the fighting type."
Lucian said nothing. He could feel Chance reading into his silence, weighing his words. He wasn't sure how much the man suspected, but the line of questioning was getting uncomfortably close.
Chance exhaled, shaking his head. "You know what? Forget I asked. You want to do this, that's your business. But if you walk into that office with a body and no history, you're going to get a lot of eyes on you. Wrong kind of eyes. They don't pay bounties to ghosts."
Lucian stayed still, absorbing the information. He had expected difficulty, but not this level of scrutiny. He had no history. No background. The moment he stepped into that office, someone would start asking questions.
"So let's say someone can't claim it themselves," Lucian said carefully. "What then?"
Chance's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why would you need someone else?"
Lucian shrugged. "In case I don't want my name tied to it."
Chance's silence stretched for a beat longer than comfortable. Then, finally, he let out a short chuckle. "You're either in deeper trouble than you're letting on, or you just have the worst damn luck." He leaned in slightly. "You can pass it off to a middleman, but they'll take a cut. Not just a small one either. No one risks collecting bounties for people they don't know unless they're getting paid well for it. Otherwise, they're the ones who get questioned. And if you get caught trying to claim through the wrong person, they'll sell you out before you can blink."
Lucian weighed his options. The risks were stacking, but he had already committed. "I'll figure something out."
Chance shook his head. "I'd say don't get yourself killed, but something tells me you don't care much about that." His tone was still casual, but the edge remained. The suspicion.
Lucian gave him a small nod and turned away, making his way toward the exit. He could feel Chance's eyes on him the entire time.
…
The forest was quieter than he expected. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a branch underfoot. Several days have passed as he worked through his synergy cards, testing their limits, understanding their flow. The first few fights had been rough. His movements were sluggish, unrefined. He wasted energy, misjudged the timing of his abilities. But gradually, he adapted. He moved faster, struck with precision. Breezewalker let him glide between attacks. Ironscales absorbed the brunt of force. The Ethereal Claws became a natural extension of his strikes.
More than once, Ironscales had been the only thing keeping him alive. In the heat of battle, when his reaction was just a second too slow, the metallic plating absorbed the worst of the damage. A Stoneheart Bear's swipe that should have cracked his ribs merely sent him stumbling back. A Cloud Leopard's teeth clamped down on his arm but met unyielding steel instead of flesh. Without it, he would have already been bleeding out on the forest floor.
Each encounter sharpened his instincts. He learned to move with the weight of the scales, using their defense as a second skin rather than relying on brute endurance. He let enemies overextend themselves, allowing their strikes to glance off his reinforced body before retaliating with precise counterattacks. He timed his movements so that every hit absorbed by Ironscales gave him the perfect opening to strike back especially when a shard was shot back quickly immobilizing the beast, his spectral claws carving through weakened defenses.
The longer he fought, the more he refined the balance between offense and defense. He began to push himself further, seeking out more dangerous prey. He took on larger beasts, creatures whose strength would have torn him apart if not for Ironscales shielding him from fatal blows.
With each fight, he felt himself getting stronger, his control over his synergy cards growing sharper. But as his mastery over them grew, so did the bouts of madness. The whispers in his mind clawed at his thoughts more frequently, creeping into the edges of his vision with every soul he absorbed. His rage came quicker, his attacks more violent.
There were moments where the bloodlust took hold, where he lost himself in the chaos, his claws slashing long after the enemy had fallen. Each time, it took longer to pull himself back, to silence the whispers in the recesses of his mind. He knew what was happening. He knew he was changing. And yet, he pressed on.
As he goes around the forest the next test comes in the form of direwolves. They circled him, their low growls vibrating through the air. Lucian exhaled slowly, dropping into a stance. The first lunge. He pivoted, claws slashing through its throat in a single fluid motion. The others hesitated, then attacked together. Lucian moved between them, his body instinctively reacting to their strikes. Claws slashed, teeth snapped, but he adjusted, retaliating with precision. A wolf leaped for his back. He activated Ironscales just before impact, the beast's fangs barely sinking in before metal shards retaliated, tearing into its body.
When the last one fell, Lucian stood amidst the carnage, his chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths. His hands trembled, but not from exhaustion. The whispers surged. His grip tightened around the hilt of the Soul Carver as he drove it into one of the corpses. The weapon pulsed, feeding off the lingering energy of the beast's soul. He moved to another. Then another. The whispers grew louder. His vision blurred at the edges. He wasn't just absorbing the souls but he was carving them apart. He stabbed again and again. The wolves were already dead.
His breath was ragged. His hands ached. His vision swam, tinted red. The mark on his hand pulsed, burning into his skin. Lucian forced himself to stop. His hands trembled as he pressed them to the dirt, grounding himself. He clenched his jaw, inhaling through his nose, forcing his mind to steady. "It happened again," he muttered.
Triboulet chuckled in the back of his mind. "Oh, Lucian. You're finally starting to see it, aren't you? How much easier it is to just… let go?" Lucian ignored him, forcing himself to focus. "How many beast souls do I need for a card?" he asked.
Triboulet hummed, as if amused by the question. "Depends on the beast. Some have more essence than others. But for a proper card? A dozen, maybe more. That's just the start of it since they lack the most important ingredient, Sentiency." Lucian exhaled, his gaze shifting back to the corpses around him. He needed more. More souls. More understanding.
Days passed and the pattern repeated. Hunt. Kill. Absorb. The madness crept closer each time, a shadow just beyond his reach. He fought to control it, to suppress it. Then it happened. His vision blurred again, his body moving on instinct. The moment passed in a haze, a whirlwind of movement, claws tearing, bodies collapsing around him. The scent of blood was thick in the air, metallic and suffocating. His breathing was rough when his sanity snapped back into place and the world sharpened around him.
It was a mess. A bloody, awful mess. The beasts around him were torn apart, their bodies barely recognizable. The ground was soaked in blood, pooling thick around the corpses. Flesh was shredded, bones snapped, deep claw marks carved into everything in sight. His hands were shaking, drenched in red up to his elbows. He breathed heavily, his mind struggling to catch up, trying to remember what had happened.
Then he saw it. The mark on his hand.
It had changed. The grotesque grin of the joker stretched wider, its mocking expression twisting further into something even more sinister. Inside its open mouth, the number had changed.
Two.
Then it laughed.
Not a small laugh. Not a whisper. A deep and twisted laughter that burst from the mark, spilling into the air like something alive. It rang inside his skull, crawling under his skin. The grin on his hand stretched even wider as the laughter grew louder, as if a thousand voices were shouting with excitement. His head pounded, his vision blurred at the edges. The ground beneath him felt unstable, shifting like it was pulling him in.
He clenched his teeth and grabbed his hand but the laughter only grew stronger. It clawed at his thoughts, rattled his senses. His breath came out rough, the world tilting around him. Then everything spun.
A wave of dizziness slammed into him. His body felt light and heavy at the same time. His limbs twisted in on themselves, his vision cracked like shattered glass. His lungs burned, as though the very air had turned against him. Then all at once, the sound vanished.
Silence.
Lucian gasped, his body shaking as he steadied himself. His surroundings had changed.
Everything was wrong.
The forest was still there but it was not the same. The trees stretched impossibly high, their bark cracked and pulsing like something alive. The ground was damp, not with mud but something thicker that moved when he stepped. The sky above was empty, an endless space of swirling gray and black. The air felt heavy and thick, pressing against him like it carried a weight he could not see.
The colors were gone.
Everything was black and white.
Even his own hands looked lifeless, his skin pale, the dried blood on them dark like ink. The ground pulsed beneath him, a strange hum vibrating in the air. Shapes moved in the distance, shifting between the trees, twisting and watching.
Lucian's breath was uneven as he took a step forward. The sound of his movement was muted, like the world itself swallowed noise. His heartbeat was the only real sound left.
A whisper slid through the air.
Not from Triboulet.
Something else.
Something deeper.
The laughter was gone but the grin on his hand remained, stretched wide like it was pleased. The number inside its mouth glowed faintly, pulsing with the same unnatural rhythm as the world around him.
Lucian swallowed hard and forced himself to move. He did not know if this was real. But he did know one thing. He was not in his world anymore.