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Russell burst through his front door like a kid on Christmas morning. The Shadowkhan already had the eyeball waiting—Ming's final gift, still pulsing with that sick red light even in death.
A blank material card flashed in his hand, analyzing, categorizing, evaluating.
Silver-level [Heart-Eye] (Red)
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Russell stared at the classification, genuinely offended. This thing had manifested fears, created a fifty-foot blood giant, nearly killed them all, and it was just... Red? Not even the mythical "Colored" tier that textbooks whispered about?
"Ming sacrificed how many cultists for this? And it's the same quality as my Kiss-Shot?"
He turned the eye over, watching the star pattern swirl in its depths. The power differential between this and other Red-quality materials seemed massive. Either the classification system was broken, or...
"Maybe Colored doesn't actually exist."
The thought was heretical. Every cardmaking textbook mentioned Colored-tier as the theoretical peak, the quality beyond Red that represented divine perfection. But Russell had never heard of anyone actually possessing one. Not Blake, not the Palace-level cardmakers, nobody.
"I'll ask Teacher about it. Later. When I can phrase it without sounding like I robbed a demon boss."
He stored the Heart-Eye carefully. Two god-tier materials now—the Star of Calamity and this monstrosity. He just needed one more component to complete his next card. The question was which one.
Could ask Senior Sister to 'borrow' something from the Association. But that's pushing it. Better wait for my points.
A week passed in suspicious tranquility. No investigations about the secret realm. No questions about Sonny's convenient death. No follow-ups on four students emerging mysteriously unscathed from a battle that killed their teammate.
The silence was almost worse than scrutiny.
Sunday morning, Russell finished his meditation when his phone buzzed twice.
[Association Notification]
Your account has been credited with 3,220 points.
New Balance: 3,240 points
For questions, please call our service center that definitely won't help you.
[Coach Carter]
Battle Club. Now. If you have time. Which you do.
Russell threw on his coat—designer now, because if you're going to be a secret terrorist leader, at least dress well—and shadow-traveled to campus.
Carter's office was already crowded. Lucian sat with perfect posture, not a hair out of place despite the early hour. Yuna fidgeted beside him, shooting glances his way every few seconds. Jean had claimed the corner, hiding behind her glasses and a book she wasn't actually reading.
And there was someone new. Well, not new exactly.
Grant stood awkwardly by the door, clearly unsure if he should sit or remain standing. The man Russell had demolished to earn his spot on the team, now here to replace their murdered teammate.
The irony is delicious.
"Sorry I'm late," Russell said, though he wasn't sorry and technically wasn't even late. "The commute from my evil lair takes a while."
"It's fine," Carter waved dismissively. "We need to discuss the secret realm incident."
Four spines straightened simultaneously. Grant noticed and filed it away.
"Sonny's parents have been informed," Carter continued, unaware of the tension. "The school has... handled things. Compensation, memorial, the works. You don't need to worry about any backlash."
Because dead students can't contradict official stories.
"Additionally, the Association verified your report. Some demons have indeed developed new abilities. The Heart-Eye is now classified as an S-tier threat. You'll each receive 2,000 points as hazard compensation."
Lucian, Yuna, and Jean relaxed marginally. Their secret was safe. Their crime had become their fortune—literally.
Russell was already doing math. 3,220 total meant 1,220 from New Metro, plus the 2,000 hazard pay. Not bad for a week's work and one light murder.
"Now," Carter said, shifting topics, "about our fifth member."
He gestured to Grant, who straightened like a soldier being inspected.
"The school wants Grant to take Sonny's position. Thoughts?"
Lucian and the others immediately turned to Russell. The deference was automatic now—he was their leader in crime, their mutual secret binding them to his decisions.
Grant noticed this too. The team dynamics were completely different from before. Where was Lucian's arrogance? Why was everyone waiting for Russell's approval?
"Grant's fine," Russell said after a moment's consideration. "He's got the right mindset. Plus, he was willing to sacrifice himself for his team. That's more valuable than raw power."
Also, he's not a jealous psychopath, which is apparently a high bar for this team.
"Settled then," Carter slammed the table decisively. "We leave for the Capital next week. Early arrival to scope out the venue, get acclimated. Don't embarrass me."
They filed out of the office, Grant trailing behind like a lost puppy. The four accomplices moved with subtle synchronization—not planned, just the natural result of sharing a dark secret.
At the building entrance, Russell shoved his hands in his pockets, affecting casualness.
"Grant's a good choice. At least we know what we're getting. Better than some random stranger."
"Agreed," Lucian said simply.
Grant's confusion deepened. Where was the Lucian who used to sneer at everything Russell said? This respectful, almost submissive version was wrong. Everything about the team felt wrong.
"Russell," Grant ventured, "I never properly thanked you. For the secret realm thing. For... giving me another chance. I won't let the team down."
Oh, you sweet summer child. If only you knew what your teammates were capable of.
"Just do your best," Russell said. "We all want that championship."
"With you leading us," Lucian added, and there was something in his tone—reverence? fear? gratitude?—that made Grant's skin crawl. "I think we actually have a chance."
"Enough ass-kissing," Russell laughed, though he enjoyed it. "I've got cards to make. See you guys next week."
He melted into shadows before anyone could respond, leaving Grant with three people who felt like strangers wearing his teammates' faces.
Back home, Russell pulled up the point exchange, finally ready to complete his next creation. Two materials stared back at him, each perfect in different ways:
Silver-level [Desperate Avenger] (Gold) - 2,800 points
For those who've lost everything and gained terrible purpose
Silver-level [Escape Master] (Gold) - 2,900 points
For those who survive by never being caught
The Heart-Eye pulsed in his inventory, waiting to be combined with one of these. The Star of Calamity hummed with barely contained chaos.
Three materials that shouldn't exist in the same card. A recipe for either brilliance or disaster.
Russell grinned. He'd always been lucky with long odds.
"Let's make something memorable."
(End of this chapter)