The Weight of a Card

The underground arena thrummed with energy. The air was thick with anticipation, the murmurs of the crowd blending into a low, restless hum. The glow of crimson lanterns flickered against the stone walls, casting jagged shadows over the combatants.

At the center of it all, Noir Vale stood across from Caius Evernight, the Jack of Spades.

A clash between two high cards.

But this wasn't just about status.

Noir could see it in Caius's golden eyes—that glint of something deeper. This wasn't just a fight. It was a test.

A reminder that in the House of Spades, nothing was given. Everything was earned.

Selene leaned forward from her perch on the platform, her blood-red eyes gleaming. "You know the rules," she called out. "First to yield, collapse, or be unable to fight loses. No killing—unless you're ready to deal with the aftermath."

A sharp grin tugged at the edge of Noir's lips. No killing. But everything else? Fair game.

The crowd roared as Selene raised her hand—

And then dropped it.

"Begin."

Caius moved first.

A burst of speed—so fast it blurred the edges of his silhouette. His midnight-blue coat whipped behind him as he closed the distance in an instant, golden eyes locked onto Noir like a hawk spotting its prey.

No hesitation.

No warning.

His fist lashed out.

Noir barely had time to shift his weight, twisting his body just enough to let the strike graze past his ribs. But the force of it—the sheer raw power behind the blow—was enough to send a sharp ripple of impact through his bones.

Fast.

Stronger than I expected.

Caius didn't stop. The moment his first strike missed, he pivoted on his heel, bringing his other leg up in a vicious roundhouse kick.

Noir reacted.

His body moved on instinct—ducking just in time for the kick to slice through empty air, missing his head by mere inches.

A whisper of memory flickered in the back of his mind.

"Again."

The sound of rain hitting stone. The scent of damp earth.

A figure loomed over him, obscured by the downpour. His breath was ragged, his limbs aching.

"Get up, Noir."

A hand reached for him.

Then—pain.

Noir's focus snapped back to the present. Not now.

Caius wasn't giving him a chance to breathe. His assault continued—a relentless, calculated storm of strikes, each one aimed with precision. He fought like a veteran, his movements sharp, practiced. A Jack didn't rise to their rank by brute force alone.

Noir, however, had no intention of simply defending.

As Caius launched another strike, Noir shifted—not backward, but forward. Into the attack.

He caught Caius off guard.

For the first time, the golden-eyed fighter hesitated. A split second. Barely a blink.

But it was enough.

Noir twisted his body, slipping past the punch, and in the same motion—

He reached for Caius's Card Sigil.

The moment his fingers brushed against it, something clicked in the air.

A sharp intake of breath.

A sudden stillness in the space between them.

Caius's eyes widened.

The Jack of Spades' sigil flickered.

Then—

It shattered.

A wave of whispers rippled through the crowd. Gasps. Shock. Disbelief.

Noir exhaled slowly, ice-blue eyes gleaming with quiet understanding.

There it is.

The true power of the Ace of Spades.

Years ago.

A candle flickered in the darkened room. The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air.

Noir sat at a wooden table, a single playing card before him.

A voice spoke from the shadows.

"The Ace of Spades is a cursed card, Noir. A brand of misfortune."

He didn't respond.

The figure stepped closer, revealing a pair of cold, calculating eyes.

"But you are different."

A hand reached out, placing another card atop the first.

A Joker.

"You are not bound by the rules of the Arcana Codex."

Noir stared at the cards, his fingers tightening.

"You are the one who breaks them."

The underground arena felt silent in the wake of what had just happened.

Caius staggered back, staring at his hand—his sigil was gone. For the first time, he looked… shaken.

Noir flexed his fingers. The sensation still lingered—a void, a subtle disconnect.

He had severed Caius's connection to his power.

Even if only for a moment.

That was the true nature of the Ace of Spades.

Not just power negation.

But the ability to erase fate itself.

Selene broke the silence first.

She whistled, slow and sharp. "Well, well. That's a nasty trick you've got there, Vale."

Noir rolled his shoulders, his usual smirk returning. "I like to keep things interesting."

Caius took a slow breath. His composure returned, golden eyes narrowing with something close to respect. Then, to Noir's surprise—he smiled.

Not a smirk. Not a sneer.

A genuine, almost excited smile.

"You really are an anomaly," he murmured.

Then, without warning—he laughed.

Noir raised an eyebrow.

Caius shook his head, still grinning. "I should be pissed. But honestly?" He exhaled, running a hand through his midnight-blue hair. "I've never met someone who could actually break the rules."

Selene chuckled from her seat. "Looks like our Ace isn't just some gambler."

The crowd finally began to stir again. Some murmured in awe, others in unease.

Noir took a step back, hands slipping into his coat pockets. He wasn't interested in basking in attention.

He was more interested in the implications of what had just happened.

If he could sever Caius's power with a single touch…

What else could he erase?

A thought flickered at the edges of his mind.

The Suit of Void.

A lost card. A hidden truth buried beneath the Arcana Codex.

Noir smirked to himself.

Looks like he had another game to play.