The Archmage was momentarily taken aback, a moment of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with a cold, mocking laugh. Slowly, almost theatrically, he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, as if the scene before him was some absurd joke.
"You really think you can run from me?" he sneered, stretching his legs deliberately and flicking his staff aside with a casual disdain.
"I won't even need magic for this, I can just strangle you." he hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously.
Without warning, he shifted his weight into a low, coiled stance, muscles tensing like a predator ready to pounce. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, closing the distance between them with alarming speed.
'THERE!''
At the last second Lucid reacted instantly, spinning sharply to the left. The Archmage's strike sliced through the air mere inches from his side.
In one fluid motion, Lucid materialized a card, not the familiar Spades or the Black Hearts, but the one adorned with seven black clovers. Its deep, rich black seemed to pulse softly, as if glowing with an eerie darkness of its own. This was no random choice. Fueled by sheer determination and unwavering conviction, Lucid held the card like a talisman.
As long as I stay optimistic, this can work, he thought, focus sharpening like a blade.
Before him, countless opportunities unfolded like shimmering threads–weak spots, openings, and vulnerabilities that only he could see. The card's description in his memories was vague, fragmented at best, but instinct whispered that this was not all it was capable of. This card held untapped power, with no obvious drawbacks, all it supposedly needed was just one fragile spark of hope.
He clenched his fist tightly, grounding himself by planting his right leg firmly behind him. The momentum from dodging the Archmage's strike flowed through his body as he raised his hands. With a powerful rotation of his torso and the steady base beneath him, he unleashed a devastating blow aimed squarely at the Archmage's chin.
The impact was perfect, like hitting the jackpot in a game of chance. Every element aligned in that single moment: precision, power, timing. The Archmage staggered back, collapsing to the ground, dazed and nearly unconscious.
But Lucid didn't pause. His eyes flickered with bright, almost luminescent spots, projections revealing further weaknesses and openings on his opponent.
There!
His stomach… no, his head!
Without hesitation, Lucid planted his left foot firmly as if preparing to step forward. Then, with every ounce of strength left, he extended his right leg in a powerful kick.
This time, he activated the potency of the Black Spade card, tapping into the raw essence drawn from the other card, the Red Hearts. He had completely exhausted his essence, pouring everything into this final strike.
A sharp, resounding smack echoed through the air. The Archmage didn't have a chance to react, the blow landed with brutal force, knocking him out cold. The impact was undeniable; Lucid had delivered a decisive, critical hit.
"Checkmate..." Lucid muttered, breath steady, eyes locked on his fallen foe.
Lucid stood there, staggered for a moment, catching his breath. His chest rose and fell as the adrenaline slowly drained from his system. He replayed what had just happened in his mind–that quick sidestep, the improvised strike and the complete absence of any major powers, yet somehow, he had knocked out an Archmage. It was as if all the stars aligned for him at that moment, all not only thanks to the black clover card but his reaction speed and quick thinking. He had defeated an Archmanage without any mana or ether but with luck. One of the most powerful ranks in Andorrea, knocked out just like that.
It left him puzzled.
Phew... what have I just done?
Without much thought, Lucid materialized his go-to revolver, the familiar weight settling into his grip. He aimed it at the fallen archmage. His essence was completely depleted, but he had enough left in the chamber to fire a shot or two if needed.
He held the gun steady, his grip firm, finger hovering just above the trigger. The unconscious man lay before him, vulnerable as an easy target.
He knows my face and voice. No doubt he'll start hunting me down if I let him live.
Would Shion have done it?
His mind flashed back to Sector 8–the moment Shion had killed two nobles without so much as blinking. She had no hesitation in her eyes nor any mercy to spare. It felt cruel to Lucid–cold and unheroic, but remembering what they had planned to do to that family eased some of the guilt pressing on his conscience.
I have no business killing people...
Whether it was a rare moment of mercy or Lucid playing the role of hero, something inside him was surprisingly sure. He could pull the trigger right now and end it, but he knew he'd have to live with the weight of that decision–the guilt, the burden, and the risk of retribution from another Archmage.
In truth, whether he killed this man or not, the danger wouldn't disappear.
"Not worth the trouble... job's already done," he muttered, lowering the gun. He turned away, slipping his hands into the pockets of his long coat, the hem of which fluttered lightly with each step.It was only then that he noticed the fabric—torn at the edges, scratched and dirtied, even though he had bought it just last week.
As he walked away, a quiet unease crept in.
It felt like a grave mistake. A costly error that might come back to haunt him. And yet, for Lucid, it was a worthy trade. The mission had gone well. Yannick could be saved without bloodshed.
A violent confrontation, yes–but strangely, a peaceful one too. One where they could all walk home.
At least, that's what Lucid chose to believe.
Lucid walked slowly, his steps quiet as he followed the trail of debris left in the aftermath of his confrontation with the Archmage. The air still carried tension, as if the fight had just ended moments ago. Dust floated gently in the breeze, and shattered stone and cracked pavement marked the path ahead.
He spotted a guard or two slumped near the walls, groaning faintly or unconscious. But Lucid didn't panic. If there was one thing he was confident in, it was the art of staying hidden. That had always been his specialty. When it came to slipping past people or disappearing altogether, Lucid was a master.
He advanced through the alleyway, slipping past shadows and narrow turns until he arrived between two buildings that framed a wide opening into the heart of the town. The square was eerily still. Debris littered the area—rocks, splintered wood, loose bits of cloth and rope.
At the center stood the execution platform.
Lucid froze for a moment. There was no crowd, no executioners, no targets bound in place. Just silence.
A few guards lay nearby, unconscious but breathing. The ropes hung loose, their ends coiled like snakes around the legs of the platform. They had been untied in a rush, dropped where they fell.
Lucid exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing slightly.
Maybe they made it out. Maybe they escaped in time.
But another thought pushed in, one that made his stomach tighten. What if another Archmage had arrived? What if they were intercepted while fleeing and were captured?
He stepped closer to the platform, eyes sharp, scanning every inch. Then he saw it—the broken window behind the structure. The glass shards still glittered faintly on the ground, framing the gap like a signature.
It was Alice's doing.
She had broken it during the rescue mission as a sign.
A strange emotion welled up in Lucid–part relief, part pride. Despite the chaos and the lack of planning, they had done it.
The mission was a success. But now the square felt too quiet. Lucid's heart, which had begun to calm, started to stir with unease.
Where were they now?
Where was he supposed to go?
He regretted, for the first time, that they hadn't come up with a proper exit strategy. They had thrown together the plan at the last second, right as the execution speech was ending. There had been no time to add details or fallback options. Only the bare minimum and the essentials.
He sighed and took another step forward, circling the edge of the platform. That was when he noticed something—barely visible, tucked into the wooden frame of one of the platform's legs.
A small piece of paper had been nailed there, the blade of a knife pinning it into place. The paper fluttered lightly in the breeze, but it held.
Lucid's eyes narrowed.
He reached for it slowly.
It was a note.
A note from Shion.
As he looked close to read it.
Lucid recognised the name written at the edge of the paper it was Shion's. It was scrawled quickly, but still sharp and deliberate.
Lucid, assuming you survived the confrontation with the archmage—
The plan was a success. After your little spectacle, I knocked out the remaining guards and Alice untied the victims. We're now heading back to the abandoned building we came from.
I'm waiting.
Lucid allowed himself a rare sigh of relief.
There was no better news. They were alive and the mission had succeeded.
Now, all that remained was to return to the hideout, the run-down building where it had all started. A strange comfort settled in his chest, even if only for a moment.
Unfortunately, he couldn't use his grappling gun anymore. It was out of charge and essence. That meant he had to travel the old-fashioned way. By foot.
He began making his way through the square, weaving through the debris and broken stones, stepping over fallen banners. As he neared the opposite exit of the town center, a low groan caught his attention.
A guard, previously unconscious, stirred beside the steps. His arm trembled as he lifted himself onto his elbows. His eyes dazed, locked onto Lucid's silhouette.
"You..." the guard rasped.
Lucid turned in a swift motion, his hand instinctively reaching for the cards–his Seven Black Hearts. But he paused when he saw it was just one man, too wounded to even stand.
"You mark my words," the guard spat through clenched teeth. "Lord Themenos will not let you walk out of this alive. Ahahaha—"
Before he could finish, Lucid stepped forward and kicked him squarely in the head, knocking him out cold.
There was a dry humor to it–he had ended this man the same way he finished off the archmage. And while the situation was far from funny, a smirk still tugged at the corner of his lips.
But those words...
Lord Themenos.
The name stirred something in his memory. Someone Shion had mentioned in passing or no, someone he had met himself, back in Sector 5.
"Ah, yes. I do remember him," Lucid murmured.
"He was strange. Said we'd cross paths often."
He muttered aloud as he began walking back the way he had come, boots crunching softly against the rubble-strewn path.
"Well, haven't seen him so far, so... guess he's all talk now."
The words drifted into the quiet air, half for himself and half for the silence that followed him. He didn't expect a response, and none came. The square was still, and the fading tension from the fight left only the echo of his footsteps behind.
Lucid tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, eyes set on the path ahead.