"The Fool’s Gambit"

In this world, nothing truly exists. What exists is merely what you believe. Or, to be more precise, it is what it is.

Beyond this, all possibilities are nothing more than reflections of the mind—illusions born from perception.

Inside the Zero Society's research room, Abinash and Samriddhi stood silently.

Before them lay the black sword—Vikram's blade—its core pulsating with an immense energy wave that radiated through the chamber.

"Captain, who exactly is Adarsh?"

Samriddhi turned to Abinash, her voice uncertain.

But Abinash gave no response. His eyes remained fixed on the sword, as if searching for an answer hidden within its dark gleam.

Finally, he spoke, almost to himself. "Just as I suspected… This blade is composed of particles capable of storing selective memories. There's no doubt—Vikram alone could wield its true power."

With that, Abinash lifted the sword once more, inspecting it carefully before placing it back on the pedestal.

After Draven Bloodstone's departure, Abinash and Samriddhi had returned to the research room. The sword had remained untouched on the cold stone floor.

For a few moments, they simply stood there in silence. Then, without another word, they stepped out of the chamber.

Meanwhile, Vasudev and Divya had ventured northward, deeper into the frozen lands.

Before them, towering white mountains glowed under the moonlight, their snow-capped peaks resembling polished pearls against the dark sky.

At the base of the mountains, dense forests of pine trees stood in eerie silence. But the claw marks on the tree trunks revealed an unsettling truth—this land was home to Ice Wolves.

"You look tired," Divya said, noticing Vasudev slowing down.

"Not at all!" Vasudev quickened his pace, forcing a smirk.

"Then why are you slowing down?" Divya narrowed her eyes but suddenly stopped in her tracks.

A strange sensation washed over her.

"Don't go any further!" Her voice carried an urgent edge.

Vasudev frowned. "Why? We're almost at the peak. We can make it easily."

Divya didn't answer. Instead, she pointed ahead.

Hanging in the air before them were countless daggers, floating in an eerie formation. From a distance, they looked like a line marking a forbidden boundary.

"What… is this?" Vasudev muttered, feeling an unsettling chill creep down his spine.

Divya exhaled. "You'll find out tomorrow. For now, I'm hungry. Since you act so strong, go find us some food."

She smirked. "But listen carefully—under no circumstances should you cross that boundary."

Vasudev rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He turned and disappeared into the dark woods.

As Vasudev approached the forbidden boundary, he hesitated.

Something felt off.

The air had changed—thicker, heavier, suffocating. Even the dry leaves on the ground refused to move, as if frozen in fear.

The once moonlit sky was now cloaked in black clouds, drowning the world in shadows.

Scattered across the land were broken weapons, burnt soil, and fallen trees—the unmistakable signs of a battle.

And then—he saw them.

Bodies.

One by one, they appeared—lifeless warriors strewn across the battlefield, their blood still fresh.

This… happened recently.

Then—a flash of light.

A brilliant white glow erupted from the distance, as bright as daylight.

Vasudev instinctively rushed toward it.

High above, a summoned silver-winged falcon soared through the sky, its piercing cry cutting through the silence.

Below, two girls fought desperately against a pack of Ice Wolves, their blades flashing in the firelight.

Suddenly—a bolt of lightning ripped through the air.

With a deafening crash, a young warrior was thrown backward, hitting the ground hard. His left arm was completely burnt.

From his attire, he was clearly a noble, though his once pristine armor was now shattered and scorched.

"PRAAYAAAS!!!"

A frantic voice echoed from above.

From the falcon's back, another young man leaped down, landing beside the fallen warrior.

A deep gash ran across his left arm.

"Prayas! Get up, brother!"

The young man clutched the injured boy's body, his voice filled with despair.

But Prayas did not move.

Blood poured from his temple, staining the icy ground.

The older brother trembled. "First our entire team… and now you too…!"

Tears welled up in his eyes.

Vasudev, watching from the shadows, finally stepped forward. He knelt beside Prayas and carefully lifted his body.

"Prayas, right? That's your name?"

A second later, Divya appeared beside him. Without hesitation, she placed a healing spell over Prayas' wounds.

She shot Vasudev a glare. "Took you long enough to call me."

Vasudev scratched the back of his head. "My bad…"

His gaze then shifted toward the raging flames ahead.

Beyond the fire, another boy lay motionless, his eyes brimming with bloodstained tears.

"Please… don't go there…" the injured boy whispered, his voice weak. "H-he will kill you…"

Vasudev simply smirked. "Relax. I just want to see who 'he' is."

Without another word, he strode toward the flames.

Before stepping forward, he turned back.

"What's your name?"

The injured boy hesitated. "Aryan…"

His voice was weak, trembling. His eyes were haunted by grief, by regret.

A regret far heavier than pain.

Finally, he forced himself to sit up, his body trembling.

"Please… whoever you are… just save those girls."

His voice broke. "I've already lost my two sisters… I can't lose them too…"

His words trailed off into silence.

Vasudev didn't answer. He simply nodded. Then, without another glance, he stepped into the flames.

The wind howled behind him, swallowing his form into the raging inferno.

"No matter how good or evil someone is, in the end—everyone lives for themselves. Every action, every sacrifice, every fight—it all comes with a price."

Lying on the cold ground, Aryan clenched his fists.

"So then… why?"

His eyes flickered toward the fire.

"Why did that boy step forward? What does he have to gain?"

He was still lost in thought when a gentle voice reached his ears.

"Your friend is healed."

He turned sharply.

Divya stood beside him, casting a soft golden light over his wounds.

Slowly, the pain faded.

And before he could say another word—

Divya, too, disappeared into the fire.

"Divya, take care of those two girls. I'll handle things here."

Vasudev stepped forward, gripping his sword tightly. His presence alone shifted the air around him, radiating a quiet yet overwhelming intensity.

Divya glanced at him before disappearing in an instant, reappearing near the two struggling girls.

"Listen carefully," she told them. "I will keep healing you, but there are at least a hundred of them. Cut them down—cleanly and quickly."

The battlefield was drowning in chaos—flames consuming the land, the scent of burning flesh poisoning the air, the agonized howls of dying beasts echoing through the night.

Vasudev exhaled sharply, his body tense. His instincts screamed at him. Something was wrong.

And then—

The world froze.

Not metaphorically—literally.

The flames stopped flickering.

The wind ceased to exist.

The very sound of battle vanished into an eerie, suffocating silence.

It was as if reality itself had been placed on pause.

Then, a slow, rhythmic clap echoed through the battlefield.

Clap...

Clap...

Clap...

"Welcome, welcome, dear guest! Look at this beautiful stage, isn't it magnificent?"

A purple shockwave burst through the air, distorting the fabric of space itself. The world twisted, bent, warped—

And then—

A figure appeared.

Floating mid-air, legs crossed as if seated upon an invisible throne, draped in a sleek black and violet jester's coat, golden bells jingling softly with every movement.

Half of his face was masked, and the other half—a twisted, unnatural grin carved into his skin.

Around him, glowing cards spun and flickered like tiny, deadly stars.

"Welcome, my dear… Welcome to my beautiful stage… Fantastically built upon the cries and shattered hopes of humanity… Oh my, my, what a beautiful sword you have…!"

Clap.

Clap.

The slow, mocking applause echoed once more.

And in an instant—

He was on the ground.

As if reality had blinked—one moment, he was floating—

The next, he stood before Vasudev.

"Oh my, my… What a fool I am! I completely forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?"

His voice dripped with mocking amusement, stretching words like a puppeteer pulling strings.

His hands flourished, exaggerated, theatrical

"I am… Harlequin! And you, my dear? Who are you?"

Vasudev's expression remained unreadable.

"I am Vasudev."

Harlequin froze—then—

"Hehehe… Haha… AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

His laughter exploded like shattering glass.

"Oh, my dear! What a beautiful smell! The scent of fear! Ah! What a truly majestic symphony of death!"

His head jerked unnaturally, tilting at a sharp, unnatural angle—too far, too sudden—like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

His arms dangled loosely, his fingers twitching—like spiders searching for prey.

And then—

In a blink—he was upright again.

His chest puffed out, hands on his hips, his grin stretched ever wider.

"Tell me, dear! Do you believe in fate?"

Vasudev tensed. Harlequin was close—too close.

Yet—he hadn't moved.

He hadn't stepped forward.

But he was there—right before Vasudev.

His grin stretched wide enough to split his face in two.

Then—

"Why do we exist?"

His head snapped sideways at a painful, bone-cracking angle.

Crack.

Vasudev's grip tightened on his sword.

The air itself pressed against him, suffocating, as if the battlefield had been wrapped in invisible chains.

"Answer me, dear…!"

The world had changed.

Or maybe—Harlequin had changed it.

The ground beneath Vasudev's feet felt wrong. Like a stage floor, fragile, ready to collapse.

The sky above? It no longer felt real—a painted backdrop stretched too thin.

And somewhere—an invisible figure laughed.

Vasudev's throat felt dry. His grip on his sword tightened, but his fingers felt numb.

This question—

It wasn't just a question.

It was a test.

One wrong answer—

And the entire stage might collapse.

Joker's grin widened, his body swaying like a puppet without strings. The world trembled, waiting for Vasudev's response.

Vasudev inhaled sharply, steadying himself.

He exhaled. And then, he spoke.

"Why do we born?"

Vasudev's voice cut through the madness like a blade.

"So that we can die?"

He stepped forward, his golden eyes locking onto Joker's swirling voids. The air around him changed.

"Then it's not life at all."

Joker twitched. A flicker of… something passed through his eyes.

Vasudev continued.

"Life is a journey. Birth and death are just uncertain stops along the way."

"Even after death, the journey doesn't end."

The distorted theatrical world around them wavered—as if Joker's grip on reality was slipping.

"We were born not to die."

"We were born to live."

Joker froze. The countless unseen voices in the distance fell silent.

Vasudev took another step forward. Unshaken. Unafraid.

"Life is always beautiful. Majestic. Grand."

"But in the end, it depends on you."

"Will you keep walking?"

The words echoed.

For the first time—Joker wasn't laughing.

His eyes, always filled with amusement, flickered with something else.

Something dangerous.

And then—he began to laugh.

"Interesting, interesting!" Joker's eyes widened, his grin stretching unnaturally across his face. He leaned forward, his body trembling with delight. "What a splendid answer, my dear! A journey, you say? Majestic, beautiful? Oh, how adorable! How utterly naive!"

His laughter exploded through the battlefield—high-pitched, erratic, completely unhinged. His body convulsed, shoulders jerking as if he were being pulled by invisible strings. His feet barely touched the ground as he swayed like a puppet on a broken stage.

Then, suddenly—he froze.

His body twitched unnaturally. The madness in his eyes flickered for just a moment, replaced by something… unreadable. He turned his head slowly, unnaturally, as if sensing something beyond this reality.

"Oh my…" His lips curled into a different kind of smile. "What a nostalgic voice…"

A calm, yet commanding voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Harlequin."

Joker's pupils dilated. Then—he laughed.

Not the hysterical, chaotic laughter from before. No, this one was low, knowing, almost… amused.

He straightened his posture, twirling his cane as if the battle had never happened. "Tsk, tsk… what poor timing. Just when things were getting fun!"

His head tilted, looking toward the source of the voice. "Divya, dear…" His smirk sharpened. "You always know when to ruin my fun, don't you?"

Vasu's grip on his sword tightened. He turned toward Divya, confusion flashing in his eyes. She knows him?!

Joker let out a sigh, dramatically brushing back his hair. "Ah, well, no matter! The playtime is over."

He spun his cane once, tapping it against the ground. A ripple of distorted space spread beneath his feet. "Goodbye for now, dear!" His eyes locked onto Vasu, his grin widening. "Do keep walking on that 'majestic' journey of yours… I'll be waiting at the next stop!"

With that—he vanished.

Only his laughter remained, lingering in the air like the remnants of a twisted melody.