Wildcard

Lucian drifted in darkness. The silence was unnerving, yet it felt familiar. He floated weightlessly, caught in a void that hummed with distant whispers. Somewhere in the abyss, laughter erupted, shrill, erratic, and grating. It clawed at his senses, forcing his eyes open. The sound echoed endlessly, bouncing off unseen walls as if it wanted to consume him entirely. Lucian's heart pounded as he blinked into the suffocating darkness. He was not sure how long he had been here, or if he had always been here. Time felt meaningless in this void. His thoughts tangled like frayed threads, fragmented and impossible to piece together. The laughter grew louder, a grating cacophony that made his skin crawl and his head throb.

"Lucian" a voice drawled, dripping with mockery, cutting through the chaotic sound. "Still holding it together, are we?"

The laughter softened but never truly disappeared as a figure emerged from the abyss. Its pale skin was stretched tight over a gaunt face, the deranged smile splitting its features unnaturally wide. Crooked teeth gleamed beneath the twisted grin, and a comically oversized jester's hat sat atop its head, its bells jingling faintly with each movement. Its eyes gleamed with a chaotic glee, dancing like flames as it stared at him. The figure seemed more shadow than substance, its presence filling the space around it with a suffocating weight.

"You!" Lucian said, his voice tight as he fought to steady himself against the oppressive darkness. He straightened, his gaze locking on the Joker's grotesque grin. "Who are you?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them, a mixture of confusion and growing dread. His mind churned, the pieces of this nightmarish puzzle refusing to fit. The laughter, the void, this twisted figure, none of it made sense. Then the realization struck him like a hammer to the chest.

"I am going mad," he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of the admission. His fists clenched at his sides as he glared at the Joker. "You are part of it, aren't you? One of the reasons. One of the things driving me to the edge."

The Joker's grin widened, the glint in its eyes sharp enough to cut. "Oh, Lucian," it purred, its tone thick with mockery. "You're more aware than I expected. This is going to be fun."

Lucian clenched his fists as the words settled in his mind like a weight. "Where are we?" he demanded, his voice sharper now, desperate for answers. He took a step forward, though the ground beneath him felt unstable, like walking on water.

The Joker let out a shrill laugh, its bells jingling in time with the sound. "Still figuring things out, are you?" it sneered. It twirled in place like a dancer, its exaggerated movements mocking him. "We are in your mindspace, of course. Cozy, don't you think? Though I must say, it is a bit dull in here."

Lucian's jaw tightened as he processed the answer. "Am I..." He hesitated, the question lingering like a bitter taste. "Am I dead?" The words felt heavy, almost absurd to say aloud.

The Joker froze mid-step, then erupted into laughter so loud and jarring it made Lucian flinch. "Oh, that is a delightful question," it wheezed, doubling over as though it could barely contain its amusement. But it did not answer. It only straightened, its grin widening impossibly. "You can call me Triboulet, the Soul Dealer. I will be your delightful companion until, well, until you go mad. Which, I must say, should not take too long."

Lucian's breath caught, his unease growing, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. "Why would I listen to you if you will not answer my questions?" he asked, his tone sharp, bordering on defiant.

Triboulet clapped its hands together, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in the void. "Oh, Lucian. You still think this is about listening? No, no, no. This is about surviving. And you will survive, for a while at least. I will guide you, in my own charming way, because we are bound together. For better or worse. And trust me, it will be worse."

Before Lucian could respond, Triboulet's figure shimmered, fading into smoke. Only its voice remained, circling him like a predator stalking its prey. "We will speak again soon, Lucian. Try not to lose your mind before then. It would be such a waste."

The silence that followed was deafening, pressing down on Lucian like a weight. His fists clenched as he stood there, alone in the void. The Joker's words lingered in his mind, chilling in their simplicity. Bound. For better or worse.

And somehow, Lucian knew Triboulet was right.

Lucian focused on steadying his breaths, each one slow and deliberate as he tried to anchor himself in the suffocating void. The silence pressed down on him, thick and unyielding, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had no idea how long he had been trapped here or if he would ever escape. Then, clarity began to surface through the haze. He was not powerless. Everyone who walked their path with a Suit understood this process. It was buried deep in their minds, waiting for moments like these to awaken and take form.

Lucian closed his eyes, focusing through the chaos. The tug he felt was not random. It was the Suit's way of calling to him, offering the knowledge he had not yet unlocked. With deliberate effort, he reached inward, willing his power to manifest. The darkness around him rippled, then shifted.

A faint glow broke through the void, coalescing into the form of a dagger, its sleek, runed blade pulsing faintly. As Lucian reached out and touched it, the blade dissolved into shimmering light, and lines of text appeared before him. The prompt floated there, waiting. This was his first chance to truly understand his Wildcard Suit, now that his captors no longer restrained him.

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Suit: Wildcard

Physical Manifestation: Soul Carver

A sleek, runed carving tool capable of transforming into a knife, chisel, or burin. Used to extract a soul's essence from those killed by the Wildcard. Can carve and create cards.

Ability: Soul Shuffle

The essence of captured souls can be shuffled into cards, granting unique, one-time powers.

Sub-Ability: High Stakes (0/2)

Can make Soul Cards into Eternal Cards at the cost of the Wildcard's sanity. Promoting to the next rank increases the number of Eternal Cards.

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The glow dimmed as Lucian reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing the prompt. For the first time, he had a moment to study what this Wildcard Suit truly meant. He stared at the details, especially the ominous mention of High Stakes.

"How much sanity is too much?" he murmured, his voice cracking in the silence. The void offered no answer, only his own thoughts. A tool to carve souls. Cards that could break reality itself. And a cost. Always a cost.

The laughter returned, faint this time. Triboulet's voice teased him from the edges of the void. "Enjoy the game, Lucian. Oh, it is going to be so much fun."

The sensation of being lifted tore him from the silence. The world blurred, his mind pulling back to consciousness as pain burned its way through him.

Lucian's body jolted awake, the heat of flames searing his skin. He gasped, smoke clawing at his lungs. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. For a moment, he panicked, thrashing against the intense heat.

His mind caught up to his reality. He was on a pyre, flames licking at the edges of his clothes. He scrambled, rolling off the burning heap onto hard-packed dirt. His body screamed in protest as he landed, coughing and gasping for air. He managed to crawl a few feet before collapsing.

"Why am I still alive?" The thought burned brighter than the flames, a desperate mantra echoing in his mind. Lucian's breaths were shallow as he forced himself to turn, his body screaming in protest with every movement. The pyre loomed behind him, a grotesque tower of charred bodies stacked like firewood. The acrid smell of burning flesh and smoke clawed at his senses, yet his focus sharpened as his eyes scanned the carnage. He recognized faces he had seen in the prison cell, fleeting connections forged in the shared shadow of death. Callen's lifeless features stood out among the rest, his defiance extinguished but still faintly visible in the tension of his jaw. Lucian remembered their hushed conversations, Callen's excitement when he spoke of his dream to become a "Dabbler" under the Spade Suit. It had felt like a shared hope, a glimmer of something better. Now, it was ash.

His gaze moved to Jaron, whose calm demeanor in the cell had been an anchor in the chaos. Jaron was the quiet one, his stoicism a mystery Lucian never had time to unravel. Ella's body was near his, her guarded eyes now empty sockets. She had been silent and distant, her walls impenetrable even as death loomed. Then there were Erik and Maera, their madness having claimed them long before their executions. The echoes of Maera's deranged laughter and Erik's incoherent whispers haunted Lucian, their torment a grim foreshadowing of what could have been his fate. His trembling hand moved to his chest, expecting the searing pain of the rapier wound inflicted during his execution. Instead, there was nothing. The wound was gone, leaving behind only the faint memory of its agony. His skin, though blistered and raw from the fire, was otherwise intact. The realization sent a chill through him. He was alive, but he should not be.

"Survive," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Figure it out later. Just survive."

He spotted the man near the fire, a corpse collector tending to the bodies. The man's face was obscured by a scarf and goggles, his movements methodical as he arranged the dead. Lucian stayed low, his mind racing. He needed a plan. If the man saw him alive, he would alert others, or worse.

The heat made it hard to think, but Lucian's focus sharpened as the collector turned his back. Quietly, Lucian crept forward. Every movement was agony, but he pushed through it. When he was close enough, he lunged, locking his arm around the man's throat. The collector struggled, but Lucian held firm, his grip fueled by desperation.

His vision blurred as his Wildcard power surged to life, raw and unrelenting. The Soul Carver materialized in his hand, its sleek, runed blade glinting ominously in the firelight. Lucian lunged forward, plunging the blade deep into the collector's neck. The man's eyes widened in shock and pain as he let out a strangled cry, his hands clawing at Lucian's arm with desperate strength. Blood poured from the wound, soaking Lucian's hand and the blade, but the collector didn't go down immediately. He thrashed and struggled, his weight threatening to topple them both as Lucian gritted his teeth, holding the knife firmly in place.

The man's gasps turned into guttural wheezes as his strength began to wane, but the fight wasn't over. His fingers dug into Lucian's skin, leaving burning trails where nails raked flesh. Lucian shoved him harder, forcing him to the ground as the Soul Carver pulsed with an unnatural heat in his grip. The runes along its blade shimmered, brightening with a hungry glow.

Then, the screaming began. It was not from the collector's lips but from somewhere deeper, an inhuman wail that echoed in Lucian's ears. A translucent form began to rise from the collector's body, its shape distorted and writhing as though in agony. The soul screamed as it was drawn toward the blade, struggling against the invisible pull. Lucian's grip on the Soul Carver tightened as he watched, unable to look away. The gem embedded in the pommel of the Soul Carver glowed with an eerie intensity, its surface swirling like liquid fire.

The soul's screams grew sharper as it was sucked into the gem, its form shrinking and condensing until it was nothing more than a flickering speck of light. With a final, desperate wail, the soul disappeared into the gem, which pulsed once and then settled, its glow fading to a steady, ominous shimmer. The collector's body slumped, lifeless, his struggles finally ceasing as silence reclaimed the air.

Lucian staggered back, the Carver still pulsing faintly in his hand. His chest heaved as he stared at the body, his mind reeling from what he had just witnessed. The blade in his hand felt heavier now, its power undeniable and terrifying. He glanced at the gem, where the soul had vanished, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

Lucian staggered back, his chest heaving. The Soul Carver vanished, leaving only the corpse at his feet. He stared at the body, guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. But there was no time for remorse.

He searched the collector's belongings, finding a storage card among the items. The card was blank, marked with the number two and a small, box-like symbol in the center. He realized its purpose immediately, a container for the man's possessions. Inside, he found spare clothes, silver, copper coins and a small knife. He stripped the collector's body, using the clothes to cover his burnt and blistered skin.

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Name: Storage Card

Rarity: Common

Suit: Keys

Rank: 2

Description: from the Suit of Keys is a sleek, unassuming card etched with the image of a treasure box at its center. It can store inanimate objects within its enchanted space, making them vanish into a pocket dimension with a simple touch. When activated, the card glows faintly, and the stored object reappears as if summoned from the depths of the unseen.

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The Wildcard mark on his hand pulsed faintly, a grotesque face of a laughing joker etched into his flesh. Its comical hat and mocking grin felt like a curse, a constant reminder of what he was now. He tore a piece of fabric and wrapped it around his hand, hiding the mark from view.

Lucian worked quickly, dragging the collector's body to the pyre. The fire consumed it, leaving no trace of their struggle. His mind buzzed with a thousand questions, but survival took priority.

As the flames roared, Lucian turned away, his face slightly disfigured from the burns but alive. He adjusted the hood over his head, concealing himself further. The Wildcard's power still lingered in his veins, a silent reminder of what he was capable of.

He walked away from the pyre, the heat at his back and the darkness ahead. For now, the world thought he was dead. That gave him an edge, one he intended to keep.

Triboulet's laughter echoed faintly in his mind. "This is just the beginning, Lucian. You will see."

Lucian clenched his fists, his steps steady as he disappeared into the night.