Two weeks had passed, and Andorrea hadn't changed much. The once-separated floating islands remained just as they were when Lucid and Alice had first arrived. Magic still reigned supreme, shaping daily life in these skybound lands—from bakers using incantations to heat their ovens, to farmers sprinkling water from the air to nourish their crops. This world was built on magic rather than relying on it
Summer had come to an end. It was the first of September, though the signs of autumn hadn't yet crept in. To the people of Andorrea, it still felt very much like summer. The sun hovered high above, casting its golden glow across the city's stone walkways and Vintage houses.
Lucid, for lack of a better word, had become something of a local. He had settled into a routine: helping Andrew around the tavern, carrying trays and taking orders—even if the customers still flinched at the sight of his glass-like mask. Afterward, he would spend time teaching Alice, though their reading sessions often turned into quiet studies where he found himself learning just as much as she did.
To Lucid's surprise, he discovered there were a total of twelve sectors in Andorrea. Sector 12 was among the poorest, stricken with crumbling stone, weaker warding runes, and streets that barely held together. In contrast, the upper sectors shimmered with enchantments and towering architecture, the kind only nobles or scholars could afford.
"So the sectors are divided by social standing and wealth after all…" he thought to himself, recalling that the highest he'd been allowed to reach was Sector 5—right after being stopped by the guards.
And finally, there was Sector 1—the highest of them all. Reserved for royalty, it was a sector bathed in light, with shimmering buildings and access to the Celestial Archives: one of the largest and most sacred vaults of magical knowledge in all the scattered worlds. Only the founders and the most powerful mages were permitted entry.
How the hell did someone like Shion manage to get that far up... and steal something of that value? Lucid narrowed his eyes at the thought, mind racing.
Her abilities remained a mystery. She could be an Archmage… or even a Paladin, for all he knew. There was an elegance to her movements, a precision in how she walked the world—like someone who wasn't afraid of rules because she knew how to bend them.
With that being said the final part of his routine is always the same, he would head to the center called Gladia to train and hone his skills. Lucid had, surprisingly, gained a bit of a reputation there. The younger recruits had even given him a nickname—Master Boom-Boom.
It was... questionable at first, but Lucid paid it no attention. After all it's not like it was an insulting, rude remark and his abilities tend to make loud explosions from time to time.
During his time at the recruitment center, he'd come to learn a great deal about his abilities. Yannick, at first, had assumed Lucid was a mage or perhaps some hybrid between a swordsman and a spellcaster—not uncommon, but not yet refined. That was, until Lucid showed him what he could really do.
With a calm breath, Lucid summoned what appeared to be a poker card out of thin air. Then another. And another. Until seven cards hovered around him, orbiting slowly like a constellation. Each card bore distinct markings—one showed seven black hearts, the other showed seven red hearts, another seven black clovers, and the last one seven black spades. The last three, however, were darker, almost corrupted in appearance. Lucid couldn't quite understand their nature, but something about them felt potent… dangerous even. Still, he chose not to dwell on it. Not yet. He suspected these cards held immense power, and until he was ready, he decided to leave them untouched.
So now he would have to grasp his power by explaining what he already knows.
Or at least, try to. The cards were tied to his awakening back in his previous life fighting with his group—specifically the first one he had ever drawn upon arriving in the Scattered worlds. The Seven Black hearts. It was a card he brought forward when he came across the twisted creature, The Mawler. And with it, came a manifestation of his power: a six-shot revolver conjured from nowhere, crafted of hard metal and shimmering magical energy and geometric edges.
Contrary to the Seven Black Hearts, the Seven Red Hearts were Lucid's essence—his ammunition. If they began to fade, losing its color or, in the worst case, turn gray, it meant that Lucid had exhausted his supply. In a way, it functioned like mana or ether, though it wasn't quite the same. The Black Clover card represented faith and luck—it influenced the precision and trajectory of his bullets. If that card lost its color or turned grey, his shots would become wildly inaccurate. This card, unlike the others, is directly tied to his mental state; his doubt, fear, or instability could weaken it, while clarity and conviction would strengthen it.
And lastly—the Seven Spade card.
Unlike the Seven red hearts that served as Lucid's life force, The Seven Black hearts that supplied him with guns. The Seven black clovers that governed his luck and accuracy, the Seven Spades offered something entirely different. It was a state enhancer—a temporary ascension of body, instinct, and weapon. When activated, Lucid's speed increased dramatically, almost unnaturally. His reflexes sharpened. His grip steadied. His bullets struck harder—some even drained ether or mana from his enemies on impact, leaving devastating wounds that couldn't be healed easily. More than that, it granted access to firearms too advanced or unstable to manifest through his ordinary Seven black heart cards, heavy-caliber weapons with intricate runes and mechanisms that seemed foreign, almost futuristic to Yannick and the others in that center.
But perhaps the most jarring part of all was what it did to his mind. When the Spade was drawn, something clicked inside Lucid. His body moved before he could think. He parried attacks he shouldn't have seen coming. He ducked spells before they were cast. Memories, Maybe muscle memories—of a former version of himself, the fighter he once was before the betrayal, flickered awake. It was terrifying, and powerful.
But none of it came without a price.
Every second the Seven Spade card remained active, it sapped his red heart cards—his stamina, his very essence. The black clovers would dim as well, muddling his focus and thoughts, it would drain his aim, his faith, his conviction and his luck too. If all hearts went grey, he would collapse but as long as he had one card that hasn't gone grey lucid could still stand, heavily weakened but stand nonetheless. In essence, the Seven Spade card was a blessing disguised as a gamble—a high-risk, high-reward weapon. But if used properly, it could be powerful.
He'd explained everything he could recall, despite the gaps in his memory. But to his own surprise, Lucid knew more than he expected.
Yannick was completely taken a back also lost in thoughts, almost thinking of lucid like some chess piece.
But like the usual they would spar again after a long discussion.
"Heh, don't hold back this time."
"Sure." Replied lucid indifferent
As the friendly match went on Lucid remembered how to aim instinctively. How to call a card without thinking. He even remembered what not to do—how some cards could backfire, or pull him too close to the edge. It was as if his body remembered what his mind could not and of course spending time sparring with Yannick and actively fighting using his power made him recall the use of most of his abilities.
However something about this power was obscure. It wasn't quite like mana, nor ether, though it resembled both. When the guns fired, a light blue dust trail lingered in the air, similar to mana, but not quite the same. It lacked the warmth of true magic, cold and detached, almost unnatural. And the faint red aura on the moment of impact when the bullet hit felt like ether, but distant, tempered, as if something was missing.
'Could it be both?'
'It has to be something else,' Lucid thought, watching the trail fade.
As he parried Yannick's sword with the barrel of his revolver for the 20th time, Lucid stepped back a great distance, ready to fire. He pulled the trigger—but the bullet, empowered by the black spade card, had its potency intentionally weakened. It was non-lethal, more like a paintball shot.
The shot hit Yannick.
"GODDAMN IT, THAT HURTS!" he shouted as he fell down.
Lucid stepped closer, his hair damp with sweat, droplets sliding down the edges of his glass mask. He handed Yannick a flask of water.
"Here," he said calmly. "Don't worry—this won't kill you."
Yannick chuckled weakly and sat back up, taking the flask and drinking from it.
Yannick looked at Lucid and spoke in a ragged voice, almost out of breath.
"You sure know... how to use those weird powers of yours. Phew."
Lucid, almost chuckling, paid no mind to the compliment.
"You're a very good swordsman too. You sure know how to swing a sword."
Yannick looked up at the ceiling. The center was quiet now—since it was evening, the young recruits had already gone home, leaving only the two of them.
"Say... what do you think of this place?"
"Not bad," Lucid replied.
"That's it?" Yannick tilted his head.
Lucid responded flatly, his voice monotone.
"I'm joking."
"It's nice. I like the atmosphere... and the hard work. It feels close to home, really."
Yannick smiled.
"Well, I'm glad. The tournament's coming up, and I'd rather not lose you."
Lucid raised an eyebrow.
"Who said I'm participating?"
Yannick was taken aback, dropping his head in defeat. Lucid, catching sight of him in such a state, felt the urge to say something—perhaps even agree to join them in the so-called tournament—before he was interrupted.
Alice stood in the doorway of the training center, looking at Lucid with concern.
Lucid noticed her, and Yannick seemed to have spotted her too.
Lucid spoke.
"Oh, hey Alice. What brings you here at this hour?"
Alice looked incredibly sad. Her voice was soft, almost breaking.
"Is it true... that Sector 12 has fallen?"