Executionist's Judgement

Dust swirled in the air, disturbed only by the slow, deliberate steps of Kieran, the Fatebound Executionist. His piercing gaze locked onto Kazimir and Jude, who stood across from him, poised for battle.

Kazimir flicked his wrist, sending a glowing card spinning between his fingers. "I hate when things get serious," he murmured. "It means I actually have to try."

Jude cracked his knuckles. "Then how about you try not letting us get our asses kicked?"

Kieran stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "You still don't understand, do you?" His voice was calm, but there was an overwhelming weight to his words. "Fate exists to keep order. You Wild Cards are nothing but chaos. And chaos…" He unsheathed his sword, an executioner's blade, massive yet handled with effortless grace. "…must be erased."

And then, he moved.

Kieran vanished, reappearing inches from Kazimir, his blade descending with blinding speed.

Kazimir barely had time to react, flicking a card to intercept the strike. The moment the card made contact, a shockwave of spatial distortion erupted outward, sending vibrations through the air.

The attack stopped inches from his face, but Kieran simply twisted his wrist, redirecting the blade downward. Kazimir jumped back just as the floor beneath him was cleaved clean through, stone splitting apart like paper.

Jude lunged in, slashing at Kieran's exposed flank—but his sword passed through empty air. Kieran had already sidestepped, his speed unnatural, almost like he was one step ahead of them both.

Kieran flicked his wrist, and an invisible force bound Jude mid-air. "Do you know what my Fate Brand is?" Kieran asked, his tone almost bored. "The Executioner's Edict. It allows me to designate any opponent as a 'convicted criminal' in the eyes of fate."

Jude struggled, his body frozen against his will. Kieran continued, his voice as cold as ever.

"And once fate has deemed you guilty... your actions become restricted."

Jude gritted his teeth. He couldn't move. His body refused to obey him.

Kazimir flicked three cards toward Kieran, but Kieran merely tilted his head—and the cards veered off course, missing entirely.

"You were already marked the moment this fight started," Kieran said. "Your fate is sealed."

Then, he swung his blade.

Jude was flung across the room, crashing into the far wall with a sickening impact. Blood splattered against the cracked stone.

Kazimir clicked his tongue. "Tch. Guess I'll have to get creative."

He pulled a card, but this one wasn't glowing—it was pitch black.

"Madhouse Draw."

The moment the words left his lips, a wave of hallucinatory illusions spread across the battlefield. The walls melted, the floor warped, and hundreds of Kazimirs appeared, each flicking a card with a sinister grin.

Kieran's eyes narrowed slightly.

Kazimir didn't stop. He twisted his wrist, and the illusions moved independently, each one attacking from different angles with cards that bent reality around them.

For the first time, Kieran had to move. His blade slashed through dozens of false images, but the real Kazimir remained hidden.

"You might be the executioner," Kazimir's voice echoed from all around, "but I'm the house. And I rig my own games."

Suddenly, the floor beneath Kieran collapsed.

The illusion was real.

Kieran dropped into the abyss, but his blade pierced into the air itself, stopping his descent. He pushed off nothing, flipping back onto solid ground.

"You're starting to irritate me," Kieran muttered.

Then, he raised his hand.

Chains manifested out of thin air, wrapping around Kazimir's illusions—and then, in a single motion, he pulled.

The illusions shattered. The real Kazimir was exposed.

Kieran was already in front of him.

Kazimir gasped, staggering backward as blood splattered onto the floor. A deep cut ran across his chest.

Jude, still struggling against the Fatebound Execution, focused everything into a single thought.

"Break it. Rewrite it."

His veins pulsed, his ability flaring to life.

Wildcard Rewrite: Iron Fate.

Jude moved faster than ever before. His sword glowed as he swung, the very concept of inevitability bending around his attack.

Kieran met his strike.

And then, CRACK.

Jude's sword broke in half.

Kieran exhaled. "Predictable."

Jude stared at his broken blade in shock. Blood dripped from his fingers.

Kazimir, still injured, let out a slow breath. "…Damn."

Meanwhile..

Elara and Zephyr fought through the dark halls of the massive building, cutting down the Fatebound knights that stood in their way.

Zephyr moved with unnatural agility, dodging strikes before they even landed. He twisted through the air, slicing through armor with wind-forged daggers, each movement precise.

Elara followed his lead, her breath steady. She wasn't just relying on her abilities—she was learning his technique.

A knight swung for her head. She ducked, mimicking Zephyr's movements, twisting her body mid-motion to deliver a brutal counterstrike.

Zephyr grinned. "Now you're getting it, Girl."

Their momentum was unstoppable, until he arrived.

A second Executionist.

This one was different from Kieran. His armor was jet-black, his eyes gleaming with raw power. A massive scythe rested on his back.

"I am Elias the Fatebound Reaper," he declared. "And this is where you die."

Zephyr narrowed his eyes. "Hey, Girl, don't stop moving."

Elara exhaled. Then, they attacked.

Zephyr vanished in a gust of wind, appearing behind Elias in an instant. His daggers slashed outward—but Elias didn't even move.

Instead, the very air itself warped.

Zephyr's attack passed through nothing.

"What—?!"

Then, a blade of black energy shot forward.

Elara barely had time to react. She pivoted, dodging—

Too late.

A burning pain tore through her body.

Her arm was gone.

Elara let out a scream, collapsing onto the ground, blood pooling beneath her.

Zephyr's eyes widened in horror.

Elias exhaled. "One down."

Zephyr caught Elara before she could hit the ground, his mind racing. He was not letting her die here.

With a burst of wind, he escaped, vanishing down the halls with her in his arms.

"Hold on," he muttered. "I swear, I'll get us out of this."

But deep down, he knew—

This fight wasn't over.

Not even close.

Zephyr kept running.

He could feel Elias's presence behind him, a constant pressure like a blade against his back. Every step felt heavier as he carried the bleeding Elara through the ruined halls of the labyrinthine building.

"Damn it…" he muttered, sweat dripping down his face. Elara's breathing was shallow, her body trembling from blood loss. She needed help.

But they were out of options.

Zephyr turned a sharp corner, boots skidding against the floor, only to be met with a dead end.

"Tch." His gaze flicked around for an escape. Nothing. The walls were too thick, and he wasn't fast enough to phase through solid material.

Behind him, footsteps echoed.

Zephyr gritted his teeth and set Elara down gently. His hands trembled as he looked at her. 

A low chuckle filled the air.

"You can't run anymore."

Elias stepped forward, his massive scythe scraping against the floor. His jet-black armor seemed to consume the light, making him appear like a shadow given form.

Zephyr stood, his fingers twitching. He didn't know Elara that well. They had barely spoken before this battle.

But that didn't matter.

What Elias did, what he tried to do, was unacceptable.

Zephyr exhaled. A single gust of wind kicked up around his feet.

Then, he felt it.

A Wild Card's first transformation.

WILD BREAK.

His veins pulsed with energy. His skin grew hotter, his muscles tightening as his speed surged beyond his limits. The air around him began to swirl violently, creating a miniature storm.

Elias raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"