"The strongest players aren't the ones with the best cards... They're the ones who know how to play the game."
The weight of silence pressed against the walls of the Grand Arcana Academy's testing hall. The fractured remnants of shattered cards still fluttered through the air, dissolving into glittering embers before vanishing completely. The moment Noir Vale demonstrated his ability, the very foundations of the academy trembled.
This wasn't just another display of power.
This was a declaration of war against fate itself.
A thick tension settled over the room as Professor Caelum Draeven, one of the academy's highest-ranking instructors, stepped forward. His golden eyes, sharp as a blade, bore into Noir with the weight of centuries of wisdom.
The murmurs of the surrounding students grew louder.
"What kind of ability was that…?"
"A Joker's trait… but he's an Ace, isn't he?"
"If he can nullify powers, does that mean he's untouchable?"
Noir ignored them. He wasn't interested in their whispers. His attention was solely on Draeven, who finally spoke.
"Noir Vale. You understand what you've just done, don't you?"
Noir tilted his head slightly, his ice-blue eyes reflecting a quiet amusement. "I suppose you'll tell me either way."
The air in the hall shifted. Draeven wasn't the type of man to tolerate arrogance, yet for some reason, his expression didn't darken. Instead, a small smirk played on his lips.
"Clever response."
He turned, addressing the watching students and instructors. "The Arcana Codex has deemed Noir Vale fit to wield the Ace of Spades. And now, we understand why. His ability is an anomaly—a power that does not fit within the established rules of our world."**
His gaze flickered back to Noir. "Which makes you a danger."
Noir didn't blink. "To whom?"
Draeven chuckled. "To everyone."
A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.
Noir remained silent, calculating. The professor wasn't wrong. His ability—the power to sever one's connection to the Arcana Codex—was beyond anything recorded in the academy's history. If others feared him, it was because they understood something fundamental:
In a world where power was everything, he alone could take it away.
Draeven lifted his hand. "As per tradition, all students are assigned to a House based on their Card Sigil. Noir Vale, as the Ace of Spades, you will take your rightful place within the House of Spades."
A sigil of black flames erupted in the air, shaping itself into the insignia of Spades—an obsidian dagger piercing through a shattered crown.
A perfect emblem.
The House of Spades. A faction known for its strategists, assassins, and those who thrived in the art of deception. Noir had read about it before arriving at the academy.
This was exactly where he wanted to be.
The House of Spades wasn't like the others.
While the House of Diamonds resided in grand golden halls, bathed in opulence, and the House of Hearts trained in sprawling marble towers filled with scholars and healers, the Spades lived in the shadows.
Their dormitory was hidden—a sprawling gothic fortress, veiled beneath layers of illusion. To outsiders, it appeared as nothing more than an abandoned ruin, but those chosen by the Arcana Codex could see its true form.
When Noir crossed the obsidian gates, he immediately felt the shift in the air. The enchantments whispered around him, scanning him, judging him.
Then, the illusions unraveled.
Before him stood a colossal structure, its architecture sharp and angular, built from onyx-black stone. Glowing blue lanterns lined the corridors, casting eerie flickering shadows. The walls bore intricate carvings—portraits of former Aces of Spades, each one a legend in their own right.
Or at least, they should have been.
Noir noticed something unsettling. Most of the portraits were missing.
The ones that remained bore deep, unnatural cracks, as if something had tried to erase them from history.
"The curse of the Ace of Spades," Noir mused.
Every previous wielder of this card had met an untimely end.
And yet, here he stood.
The moment Noir entered the main hall, he felt eyes watching him.
A group of upper-year students sat in a semi-circle, all clad in the dark uniforms of the House of Spades, each bearing their own sigil. Some looked intrigued. Others, wary. A few seemed outright hostile.
But Noir's attention was drawn to one person.
A girl with silver hair and blood-red eyes, lounging on a throne-like chair. She toyed with a dagger, spinning it effortlessly between her fingers.
Selene Avaris.
The Queen of Spades.
Beside her, a tall figure with midnight-blue hair and golden eyes leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He exuded an air of calm authority.
This was Riven Caelthorne, the Jack of Spades.
The two highest-ranking students in the House.
Selene tilted her head, observing Noir like a predator sizing up new prey. "So. You're the new Ace?"
Noir met her gaze, unimpressed. "That's what they tell me."
A flicker of amusement crossed her expression.
She leaned forward. "You made quite the entrance. The academy's still buzzing about your little performance."
Noir smirked. "I like to make an impression."
Some of the other students chuckled at that, but Selene's grin sharpened. "Good. We like that in Spades."
She stood, stepping closer. The air around her shifted. A low, almost imperceptible pulse of killing intent radiated from her. Not an attack—just a test.
Noir didn't flinch.
Selene's crimson eyes gleamed. "But let's get one thing straight, Noir Vale."
The atmosphere grew heavier.
"Just because you're an Ace… doesn't mean you're untouchable."
A silent challenge.
Noir exhaled softly, then took a single step forward—just enough to close the distance between them.
"Likewise."
For the first time, Selene's expression faltered—only for a fraction of a second.
Then she laughed. A genuine, sharp, wicked laugh.
"Oh, I like you already."
Riven, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was deep and measured. "Don't get too comfortable, Vale. The First Trial is soon. Survive that, and maybe we'll consider you one of us."
Noir raised an eyebrow. "Trial?"
Selene smirked. "Every new member of the House of Spades must pass a test. If you fail… well. Let's just say we don't tolerate weakness."
Noir chuckled, his ice-blue eyes gleaming. "Good."
"Because neither do I."