The Rules of the Game

The underground arena was still buzzing with murmurs, but Noir had already tuned them out.

He rolled his shoulders, the phantom sensation of Caius's broken sigil still lingering on his fingertips. The weight of what he had done—what he could do—pressed against his thoughts like a loaded die waiting to be cast.

He turned on his heel, stepping away from the dueling grounds. The whispers followed him, some in awe, others in hushed fear.

Noir ignored them.

Selene's voice rang out, casual yet edged with amusement. "Running already, Ace?"

Noir didn't stop walking. "I don't waste time on unnecessary attention."

"Could've fooled me," she shot back. "You sure know how to put on a show."

A ripple of laughter from the watching Spades. Caius, still standing in the center of the arena, exhaled a slow breath before shaking his head. He wasn't angry. If anything, he looked… entertained.

"You're holding back," Caius called after him. "I can tell."

Noir paused, just for a second.

Caius grinned. "That power of yours? You've only scratched the surface."

Noir didn't respond.

Because he knew Caius was right.

Night had settled over the Grand Arcana Academy, its towering spires cutting through the starless sky. Noir sat on the edge of the House of Spades' rooftop, the cold wind threading through his hair.

His hand rested on his knee, fingers brushing against the black Joker card tucked in his coat.

A cursed card. A cursed fate.

His memories had been slipping through the cracks lately—fragments of voices, echoes of the past creeping into his thoughts like unfinished sentences. And the duel with Caius had stirred something deeper.

Something dangerous.

He closed his eyes.

And the memories came.

Rain. Cold. The sharp scent of metal.

He was younger. A boy barely past childhood, standing in the ruins of a house that no longer existed.

A man towered over him, his silhouette a jagged shadow against the lightning-streaked sky. His voice was deep, edged with something unreadable.

"Do you understand now, Noir?"

His younger self clenched his fists. The weight of a card burned against his palm.

The Ace of Spades.

A brand. A sentence. A future already written.

Noir's voice—small but firm—cut through the rain.

"I don't believe in fate."

The man chuckled, low and sharp.

"Then rewrite it."

Noir's eyes snapped open, his breath steady but his pulse quickened. The dream was clearer this time. More real.

That man…

He didn't remember his face.

But he remembered his presence.

And his words.

Noir exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. The Suit of Void. A lost card. A missing piece in the Arcana Codex.

If it was real…

Then maybe his power—the true power of the Ace of Spades—wasn't just to erase fate.

Maybe he could create something new.

"Lost in thought?"

Noir didn't react as Caius settled beside him on the rooftop, his golden eyes reflecting the academy lights below.

"Took you long enough," Noir murmured.

Caius smirked. "Thought I'd let you brood in peace." He leaned back, resting on his elbows. "You held back in that fight."

Noir didn't deny it.

Caius exhaled. "You could've done more than just break my sigil, couldn't you?"

A beat of silence. Then Noir answered, quiet but firm.

"I don't know."

Caius turned his head, studying him. "But you want to."

Noir didn't respond.

Because yes. He did.

Caius chuckled. "I figured. You've got that look."

Noir raised an eyebrow. "What look?"

"The kind people get when they realize they might be stronger than they ever wanted to be."

Noir's fingers curled slightly.

Caius stretched, standing up. "Well, I won't pry. Just don't let that power swallow you, Vale." He turned, but before leaving, he paused. "Oh. And one more thing."

Noir looked up.

Caius's smirk returned. "The Executors are watching."

Noir's expression didn't change, but something cold settled in his chest.

Caius shrugged. "Just thought you'd like to know."

Then he was gone.

Noir stayed where he was, gaze fixed on the distant academy towers.

The Executors. The ones who hunted anomalies.

The ones who ensured that no one—no one—strayed from their assigned fate.

And they were watching him now.

A slow smirk crept onto Noir's lips.

Let them watch.

Because Noir Vale had never been good at following the rules.

And soon…

He was going to break the game entirely.