[⚠️ Content Warning – Graphic Violence and Gore

This chapter contains intense scenes of blood, bodily trauma, dismemberment, and graphic combat. Reader discretion is advised.]

***

Fuck you, fate.

I cursed in my mind as the explosion made the ground tremble, raining down disgusting flesh everywhere.

Thankfully, I was barely out of its radius as I crashed into the ground

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

But I was alive.

But the problem wasn't over just yet.

I looked down, my right foot, the one I had slammed into the abomination during the blast…

Eyes and mouths were blooming across the skin.

The cloth around it was crumbling to dust.

I knew what I had to do.

I knew from the moment I decided to kick it.

A sword shimmered into my hand from my storage ring, one of the many weapons I didn't know how to wield but I always carried just in case.

It didn't matter if I knew how to swing it.

I only needed one move.

The sword wasn't an artifact but it was said to be so sharp that it could cut through anything like a piece of paper.

I looked down.

The eye on my foot blinking up at me while slowly expanding.

I gritted my teeth, my heart pounding in my chest.

I positioned the blade just above the knee.

Higher than the corruption.

One clean slice… or I would pass out and die halfway.

But that was the dream because the moment I pushed it, the sword stopped midway.

It was stuck in the bone. I felt it grind against my femur

I screamed.

The kind of scream that strips your throat raw and leaves something broken behind.

"Fuck… fuck—!"

I tried pushing.

I tried pulling.

But with only one arm, and half my strength gone with the blood leaking out of me… the blade wouldn't budge.

I had miscalculated.

The sword's sharpness… And worse, my own body's loyalty to itself. Because even in the face of corruption and of certain death, my flesh resisted.

My muscles spasmed and bones locked up.

Every nerve screamed, "Don't."

As if my body hadn't realized yet that it was already half-lost.

My traitorous instincts tried to protect what was no longer salvageable.

So I made a different choice.

A desperate one.

I turned toward the pond.

The sword still jammed in my leg.

I didn't even know if I could reach the pond before the corruption spread.

But I had no choice.

So I crawled.

With one arm.

One ruined leg.

And a blade lodged in the other.

Each pull of my body left streaks of blood across the earth.

Slowly, the pain from the stuck sword stopped.

The whole leg was corrupted now.

The eyes on my foot blinked faster now.

The mouths began whispering.

But I didn't listen.

I just kept moving.

I didn't know how I was moving or how much distance was remaining anymore.

I just knew I had to reach the pond.

My other leg gave out soon after.

The corruption had claimed it as well.

So I dragged with my arm.

One single, trembling limb pulling the weight of a dying body.

My skin was bone-white.

The fingers on my only working hand were purple, stiff like they were thinking of giving up too.

But I didn't.

I can't give up until I die.

Even the pain had vanished by now and all I had left was instinct.

A savage and primal refusal to die.

Familiar whispers started ringing in my ears.

"Give up, Rael."

"You know you want to."

"It will be easy that way."

They weren't loud.

They were familiar.

Finally, my whole lower body stopped, becoming completely corrupted.

Even with my hands, I could barely pull myself.

And yet…

…yet, through all those things, a single smile curled on my face.

"Fuck you, Fate."

As soon as those words left my mouth, the darkness threatening to swallow my vision receded as a golden glow started spreading outward.

The glow spread over my body like a divine flame and touched every inch the corruption had claimed.

The eyes snapped shut before folding in on themselves like they had seen something more monstrous than their own creator.

The mouths started laughing crazily.

And then, they vanished.

My vision cleared up slightly.

Through my blurry vision, I saw a single golden card hovering in front of me majestically.

Spinning slowly in the air like it had been waiting for this moment all along.

Is that the [Card Of Arcana]?

But I couldn't care more about it for now…because the pond was right in front of me.

The card was less important than not dying.

With the last strength in my arm, I dragged myself forward… And threw my body into the water.

I didn't worry about breathing.

Because the water wasn't just water.

It was divine.

It was life itself.

And as I sank beneath its golden light, I let go.

And let my consciousness drift into sleep.

—

Within a sealed chamber of silence and shadow, two blue eyes snapped open.

Impossible.

The Card of Arcana had left the sacred domain.

A figure as he stepped forward, humanoid in shape, but unmistakably not human.

He had two draconian wings behind his back and horns curled from his brow like crowns.

He was puzzled about the situation which had never happened before. And more importantly furious at whatever had caused it.

He was Ragnar—once a fire dragon king.

Now, a prisoner—bound in this timeless space by the Forgotten Trickster, stripped of both power and pride.

His release would only come when the Card chose a true successor.

And for centuries… it chose no one.

Many had tried. Arrogant little mortals crossing into this cursed forest, desperate to touch divinity.

But all of them died at his hands.

None worthy or strong enough to challenge him and seize the card through trial.

Their failures became his fuel.

And through centuries of rage and despair…

He found another way.

A forbidden path to take the Card's power for himself.

After centuries of suffering just as he was close to claiming the card… a new successor appeared.

And unlike the rest who weren't worthy, this one had the trace of divinity.

Still, he had dismissed it.

That mortal would die long before reaching the sanctum.

He was certain.

He was sure—soon, he would claim everything within the card and ascend beyond his prime.

And maybe even reach godhood.

But now…

The Card had moved without the Trial.

It was as if, unlike the others who came to claim the Card…

The Card had claimed him.

Ragnar wasn't just confused.

He was furious.

Someone had broken the rules.

Someone had stolen the future he had carved from centuries of suffering.

And someone would pay for it.

—

Author's Note 💫

If you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to drop some gifts, super gifts, power stones, or even a shiny golden ticket!

Every bit of support fuels my imagination and helps bring more chapters your way.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.