Chương 41: Vol. 2 - The Black Eclipse

It was 05. 00 a. m. sharp. I picked up the card next to me. Hm, interesting. It wrote 'Ace Of Spades' with an illustration of a background of an hourglass, a blade and an ace of spades and a dark figure sitting on the ace of spades, one leg propped up, its knees bent. The figure was wearing a suit that I've never seen before. There was one slightly longer small white braid hanging down from his short hair. I see, this is how they want me to be dressed. I turned the card over. There was an image of an eclipse.

Below the eclipse were the words: December 01 05. 46 a. m. Glimmer-Glass Boulevard Celestara CL-777-WIN The Black Eclipse Note: Your uniform is at the door. 777? That's the district code for the Grand Plaza and Entertainment Tier! Just who am I working for? CL stand for Celestara City, so it's not out in a small town or something. That's a good thing.

"Papa! Where are you going?" Stella squeaked.

"Oh, Stella, you're back," I patted her head.

"Take care of Ella, I'm going to work." Stella nodded. That's one less thing to worry about. I opened the door. And there it was. My uniform is still warm, despite the chilly weather. There was a deck of cards, a spades tie, a small hair tie, and an expensive-looking suit. Perfect! Now I can try out my new skills on this deck of cards. I got quite a few tricks up my sleeve. I wore a sharp, slim-fit charcoal blazer that caught the light with an iridescent, diamond-quilted sheen across the shoulders and hem.

Underneath, I layered a lavender dress shirt etched with a fine micro-check grid, fastened tightly with a slim black necktie featuring a vertical row of purple spade symbols. To complete the look, I pinned a small white spade to my narrow lapel and tucked a crisp white pocket square into my chest pocket, matching the Ace of Spades card she gave me, which I held casually between my fingers.

The dark, geometric patterns and cold purple tones gave me an air of calculated elegance, as if I were a permanent fixture of a high-stakes, gothic card game. Once I had dressed up, I made my way to the location.

"Bye, Stella,""Bye, Papa!" Stella chirped. And I was off. ~~~~~~~~~~ I arrived at the designated location, only to find myself staring at what looked like a casino. The lights bled into the night, gaudy and unapologetic, as if daring anyone to question their presence. Turning the corner in search of the entrance, I stopped short. A man stood there, his long white hair tied into a ponytail, the loose strands resting against his shoulders.

When he lifted his gaze, crimson eyes met mine—shocked, unblinking, as though he had not been expecting me all along.

"So apparently none of us weren't the only ones chosen." He managed to cough out those words. He wore a tailored black coat with rich gold embroidery tracing the lapels, shoulders, and cuffs. The patterns are intricate and ceremonial, suggesting high rank or royalty. A dark fur collar drapes over his shoulders, adding weight and authority to his silhouette. Beneath the coat is a high-collared vest or tunic with vertical gold detailing, fitted tightly to emphasise elegance rather than bulk.

He wore black gloves, one stained with blood, and the other held a single red rose to his chest. I ignored him and walked towards the door.

"The door's locked," He said. I paused before saying, "It's not. Nothing's ever locked. I'll open it when the rest arrive."

"So you're the quiet, cool, yet the most powerful type, huh?" He smirked.

"Name?" I asked while studying the door. Of course, it's hard to pick. Inside holds millions of dollars, after all, it's a casino.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked for your name," I repeated.

"Few ask for my name like that. You sure are bold," He said smugly.

"I am Jasper Frostworth, the eldest son in the Frostworth family. You?"

"I am Alistair Nightfall, son to none," I said.

"Ara~ ara~, looks like I'm not the only one here," A sweet voice rang behind us. We both turned to see a woman with long teal hair and eyes, her attire ceremonial royal couture, ethereal and pristine, smiling at us. She wore a long, flowing white gown with subtle gold filigree embedded along the bodice and hem. The fabric appears layered and light, moving softly rather than rigidly. White fur wraps around her upper arms and shoulders, framing her posture like a mantle of status.

A delicate silver crown, adorned with crystal-like accents, crowned her head, appearing minimalist yet unmistakably royal.

"I am no royal," She laughed, her words directly contrasting my thoughts as she took off her crown.

"I am Artemis Zero, Queen of Diamonds. This was my given uniform."

"Ooh! I also had a crown since I'm the King of Hearts!" Jasper said eagerly as he pulled out his crown from under his coat.

"Look, I'm the King!" Jasper danced around childishly.

"And who is this blindfolded guy?" Artemis asked.

"..." Then I spotted our last member. He must be the Jack of Clubs then. He wore a sleek black suit jacket and trousers, sharply tailored but less ornate than Jasper's, and a muted green dress shirt paired with a patterned tie featuring subtle gold accents. There was a fitted vest beneath the jacket and playing cards tucked casually into the breast pocket.

"Yo, Jas!" He saluted Jasper coolly and tipped forward his black top hat with one gloved hand.

"Now that all of us are here, let's introduce ourselves," I said.

"Alright!" Jasper exclaimed.

"Tyler, you go first."

"I am Tyler Grayson, Jack of Clubs, 15 this year." Tyler tipped his hat in a slight bow.

"I wield the sound element," He smirked.

'Ah, so he only wields a compound,' I thought.

'No wonder he's the Jack of Clubs, he's not that strong.'

"I am Artemis Zero, Queen of Diamonds, 14 this year. You can call me Art," She smiled, bowing slightly.

"I wield the shadow element, though I've managed to break through and can currently also wield the light element." So she's the same age as me.

"I am Jasper Frostworth, King of Hearts, 16 this year. You can call me Jas," He chuckled before throwing back his black coat.

"I wield the fire and lightning," Now this is the real deal. Fire is the most difficult to break through. An unmistakable aura burst from me as I spoke, giving me dominance, "I am Alistair Nightfall, Ace of Spades, 14 this year. Call me Ace," I said assertively.

"And since we're going to be working closely from this day on, I'll tell you this before you find out by yourselves," I said.

"I wield shadow and starlight, thus the blindfold." I paused, letting the words sink in. Gasps erupted from our small group of four.

"Bull shit, your element is just shadow," Tyler snorted.

"Stop showing off if you're nothing but another brat."

"Think what you like, I will not condemn you. I am simply stating the truth." I stayed unfazed.

"Tch," He scoffed. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

"Now let's head in," We turned to face the entrance. I glanced at my watch. It was 05. 46 a. m. sharp.

"Should we kick the door down?" Tyler asked.

"No, we should pick it, try to reduce the damage." Artemis objected.

"Calm down, guys, we should just use fire to burn the entire building down!" Jasper shouted.

"What a bunch of idiots," I muttered and slapped my forehead. Yes, they do have talent, but brains? That's a different question.

"Why would you subject yourself to such torture?" I sighed.

"Don't act as if you're the smartest guy here, 'starlight boy," Tyler mocked.

"Why don't you try?" He taunted. They parted as I walked towards the door.

"Black Eclipse, it's 05. 46 a. m.," I whispered. Then, I pushed open the door smoothly. Gasps of awe came from everyone except for Tyler, who just scoffed. The minute we pushed open the door, the casino came to life. The slot machines started playing their bizarre sounds as the roulette started rolling on its own. The bar was empty, though colourful mocktails were lined up from one end of the table to another. Poker cards were dancing in the empty casino.

There were even electronic video machines sitting in a corner.

"Yo," a woman waved to us. I turned to see that woman in black, just that today she looked like she was a lady from the front desk, less flashy today.

"I am Clara Thorne, but to you, I am Matron." She walked over and said, "I am in charge of all you assassin recruits. Looks like we've got quite a bit of talent this year."

"Assassins?" We all gasped in unison, well, except for me, I guess.

"Yep," She nodded and propped up her glasses as she studied a sheet of paper.

"The elite circle says that you all have around two hours till the opening of the casino. So until then, we're going to put you into a room and let you rethink if you want to join us."

"Until 08. 00 a. m.!" She said cheerfully as she shoved us into a dimly lit room.

"Oh! And Alistair, please think carefully. If you join us, we'll give you double the salary. You need it for your sister, don't you?" And the door was slammed shut. I have no problem being an assassin, but… I'm not sure if my comrades are up for the job. Of course, it's risky, but, judging from all the underage people here, I'm sure they all want this job. They don't just want it; they desperately need this job. Are they willing to risk their lives for this salary? That's the only question here.

Though the guild pays in gold, is it worth putting their lives on the line?

"Hah…hahaha!" Tyler laughed maniacally.

"So, Star boy, you've got a sister? Hook me up!" He taunted.

"..."

"You're not answering my question, punk!" He grabbed me by the collar and lifted me. Though I was taller than him, he still managed to do that. His right hand curled into a fist as his nostrils flared with anger.

"Calm down, guys," I could hear Artemis desperately trying to calm us down. Too late, he's provoked me. And he will face the consequences. Tyler raised his fist, ready to strike me.

"Time, freeze," I whispered. Time froze. Jasper and Artemis froze there, still in the motion of trying to pull Tyler back. In that moment where time did not exist, there was only Tyler still conscious of our surroundings. Tyler stopped mid-punch.

"Wha—what's going on—?" Before he could finish, I cut him off, "This is my power. In my domain, no one can save you."

"I ca—can't move!" He struggled.

"There's no use struggling, your fate…is already part of my hand," I took off my blindfold. Ah, it's been two hours since I last saw natural light. Valtheris was right, I was not fully in control of my eyes yet. Still need a couple of years. My violet pupils deepened into a starless void, tiny collapsing constellations forming inside, and pressure radiated from my gaze as I stared right into his eyes.

"Welcome…to my world." I snapped my fingers, and an overwhelming presence of starlight erupted from me and swallowed us both. TYLER GRAYSON'S POV: I fell. I fell into a holy void till I hit the hard ground.

"Ouch," I groaned as I rubbed my head. Then I saw him. He stood there, tall and composed, draped in dark, ceremonial attire that clung to him with deliberate elegance, as if I was never meant to witness him stepping out of a myth. His long white hair flowed freely down his back and over his shoulders like spilt moonlight, and each strand caught the light as he moved. A white and divine blindfold covered his eyes, stark against his pale features, yet it did nothing to lessen his presence.

If anything, it made it heavier. Because I could still feel his gaze. Even with his eyes concealed, the pressure of them bored into me—unmistakable, unrelenting. Violet. I didn't see the colour, yet I knew it with the same certainty one knows when they're being watched in the dark. It was the kind of awareness that settled into your bones, leaving no room for doubt. Above his outstretched palm hovered a relic. It floated effortlessly, suspended as though the world itself had agreed not to question it.

The object refused to settle into a single form. Fractured geometric segments interlocked and separated in slow, deliberate rotations, each movement precise, almost contemplative. Edges folded into one another, planes sliding apart only to reform again, creating something that existed somewhere between a cube and a prism. It was geometry in defiance—structure without obedience, order without stillness—as if the very concept of shape had been denied the right to remain fixed.

I couldn't tell whether the relic was responding to him, or whether it was testing reality itself. And somehow, standing there beneath that unseen gaze, I knew I was being measured all the same.

"What divine beauty is this?" I whispered.

"Ah, so you can see me," He said coolly.

"That's a good sign."

"Who are you? Where am I?" I stammered, scrambling to my feet.

"I am Alistair Nightfall, or have you forgotten?" His lips curled upwards into an eerie smile.

"And this place?" He took a step forward. I instinctively took a step back, too quickly. Alistair raised an eyebrow before his smile returned.

"This is my domain." He finished. A domain? A fucking domain?! Domains are only for gods and…yeah, gods! Who is he really? First starlight, then scary eyes, then now a fucking domain?! Who's he trying to bluff, really? He's just some great illusionist, after all; he wields shadow.

"You still don't believe me?" He asked dangerously. I stood my ground.

"Stop bluffing, Alistair, you're just using some cheap illusions to swindle me!! You're no god, for only gods can have domains!"

"Look over there," He pointed behind me.

"There are thirteen thrones, one for each god. And at the end of the table…that throne is mine." He stayed unfazed by my remarks, as though he were steel and I were sticks that he could easily break at any moment. That just pisses me off.

"Stop sprouting nonsense, bitch, just hook me up with your sister!! Since you're trying to threaten me in your stupid illusion, when I get back, I'm going to find your sister and rape her!!" I barked.

"Now move it, loser!" I bellowed and shoved him aside.

"You can do anything you want to me, I'm not afraid of death, blind bitch!" I spat.

"Now you've done it." His voice was dangerously low.

"You said you're not afraid of death?" I could feel his eyes light up.

"Now…let's see…" His prism instantly transformed into twin swords. One was pale, almost translucent silver, faintly glowing with an inner light; the other was dark, like obsidian, absorbing nearby light. They are joined at the hilt in a way that allows the owner to wield them separately or together, forming a single double-edged weapon when crossed. The design is sleek, sharp, and slightly ethereal—like they were forged from raw destiny itself. I stared in awe.

"No, Tyler, stop looking up to this punk! He's just using illusions to brainwash you!" I told myself.

"That little idiot is looking down on you, Tyler! Why's he the Ace of Spades and you are only the Jack of Clubs! How embarrassing!"

"O echo born of breath and bone—shatter all that stands before me, 「Resonant Fist」!" I recited as I aimed my spell at Alistair. Boooooooom!!! Smoke flooded the area, hindering my vision.

"Looks like I got that punk!" I said gleefully. He was nothing but another amateur playing cool kid," I said scornfully. Then, the smoke parted reveal…Alistair…and his body…was uninjured.

"No…no no no!" I took a step back, my eyes as wide as saucers.

"This can't be real! Just who are you?!"

"Ah, it's too late. You said you're not afraid of death, didn't you?" He didn't bother to look at me and instead fixated his gaze on his swords. No, no, no! What is happening! That forbidden shell should have shattered him! Why is he still alive?! He strided towards me in all dominance, starlight aura bursting from him. I instinctively retreated backwards, trying to increase the gap between us.

"Freeze," He lifted his arm towards my body. My body turned stiff. I was frozen, unable to move, as if a thousand needles had pinned me down.

"No, no! Stop! I give up! I believe you! Stop!" I cried out desperately. Alistair stopped in front of me and looked down at my face.

"No," A single word, but it held weight.

"You do not understand what you have done," He said quietly.

"Now have a taste of death!!" The cold metal slashed down on my chest— —and the world detonated into pain. It wasn't sharp at first. It was crushing. A brutal, numbing impact that stole the air from my lungs before my mind could even register what had happened. Then the blade bit. Fire erupted beneath my skin, a white-hot agony that tore through muscle and bone like it was carving its way straight into my soul. I screamed, or tried to—only a strangled, broken sound escaped my throat as my knees buckled.

I felt everything. The skin is splitting. The warmth spilling down my torso. The way my body convulsed on instinct, desperate to pull away from something that refused to let me go. My vision blurred, edges darkening, but the pain only sharpened—cruel, deliberate, unforgiving. Every heartbeat sent another wave of torment rippling outward from the wound, each pulse screaming you deserve this.

My hands trembled as I clawed uselessly at the ground, fingernails scraping stone, my body begging for mercy, my mind knew would never come. This wasn't meant to kill me. It was meant to teach. The sword dragged free with a sickening resistance, tearing more than it cut, and I collapsed fully this time, chest burning, breath coming in ragged, broken gasps. The air itself felt like knives as it entered my lungs. I tasted iron.

Tears streamed down my face without permission, blurring the ceiling above me into a warped, uncaring smear. I understood then. This pain wasn't just punishment—it was a reminder. Etched into flesh. Carved into memory. Something I would carry long after the wound closed, long after the blood dried. And as I lay there, shaking, bleeding, enduring — I realised the pain wasn't fading. It was waiting. For me to understand… … the gap in power between us. The words echoed louder than the scream still lodged in my throat.

Before I could even lift my head, the pressure came—an invisible weight crashing down on my body, pinning me to the ground as if the world itself had decided I was unworthy of standing. My wound throbbed violently, each heartbeat a hammer striking raw flesh, and I realised with sick clarity that the pain wasn't a byproduct. It was intentional. He didn't rush. He never had to.

I felt his presence before I saw him, an overwhelming certainty that no matter how hard I struggled, how desperately I clawed for breath, I was nothing more than an insect beneath his shadow. The sword hovered near my chest again, close enough that I could feel the chill of the metal kissing my torn skin.

"Feel it," he said calmly. And I did. The pain deepened, not sharper but heavier, as if the wound itself was being remembered by my body all over again. My muscles seized, nerves screaming as though they were being peeled apart strand by strand. I arched instinctively, a broken sound tearing from my lips as my back scraped against the stone. I couldn't look away. I couldn't move. This was the difference between us—laid bare, undeniable. I had power, yes, but it was fragile, frantic, born of desperation.

His was absolute. Controlled. Effortless. He didn't need to finish me to prove anything. The fact that I was still alive, writhing, aware, was proof enough. Another inch. That was all it took for my body to break. I sobbed openly now, pain and humiliation twisting together until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. My hands shook, slick with blood, my chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked gasps. Every instinct screamed to beg—but even that felt like something I hadn't earned.

"This," he continued, voice unwavering, "is what stands between your will and reality." The blade finally pulled away, leaving the wound screaming in its absence. I collapsed, trembling violently, staring up through tears at a sky that felt impossibly far away. I understood. Not because he explained it. Not because he showed mercy. But because my body remembered every second of the pain— and knew, without a single doubt, that if he wished it… I wouldn't survive the next lesson.

My vision blurred as my mind faded into unconsciousness. Now I knew what it meant to die.