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Russell's hand closed around the shimmering material condensed from Moore's defeated form, accepting it from Caleb without a second thought. He'd earned it, after all—taking down a pirate lord wasn't exactly a casual Tuesday. The dock around them was a wreck, splintered wood and scorched earth painting a grim picture of the battle's toll.
"Tch," Wyatt scoffed, surveying the carnage with a smirk. "These demon punks herded themselves into one spot like idiots. Made our cleanup a breeze, didn't it?"
Russell nodded, stifling a grin. If those pirate leaders had scattered across the archipelago's maze of islands, Wyatt would've been stuck playing hide-and-seek for weeks. Solo operative or not, that sounded like a headache nobody wanted.
With the dust settled, the four of them—Russell, Caleb, Leo, and Wyatt—combed through the wreckage, gathering the materials left behind by the fallen pirates. Everything went to Wyatt, no questions asked. Aside from Moore, he'd mowed down every demon in sight like a one-man wrecking crew. Nobody was about to argue over loot rights.
Wyatt paused, sifting through the haul with a grunt. After a moment, he split the Black Iron-grade materials into three neat piles, shoving portions toward Russell, Caleb, and Leo. "Take 'em," he said gruffly.
Russell blinked, then shook his head. "Nah, Wyatt, keep it. I barely did anything in the endgame." He wasn't about to mooch off the guy's hard work. Truth be told, he was half-shocked Wyatt was sharing at all—guy seemed more the "take it all and growl" type.
Wyatt's eyes flashed with impatience, like he was dealing with a stubborn kid. "Just take it, Russell. Don't waste my breath arguing." The materials—seventy-odd pieces—were worth maybe a million Federation Credits. Pocket change for a silver-level cardmaker like Wyatt, but for Russell? A decent chunk. Still, Wyatt wasn't just being generous. The kid was a prodigy, plain as day. A little goodwill now could pay off big later.
Russell hesitated, then sighed and accepted the pile. But before anyone could blink, he turned and offered it to Caleb. "For Zane and Yara's families," he said softly. "They deserve it more."
Caleb froze, his face twisting into a pained, forced smile. "Russell…" His voice cracked, heavy with grief. "You should keep them. Their families… they're gone. All of them."
The words hit like a sucker punch. Russell's hand hung in the air, materials untouched. He'd known Zane's parents were gone, but everyone? The weight of it sank into his chest, and he slowly withdrew his hand, schooling his expression. "Sorry," he murmured. "Didn't know." No need to twist the knife further.
Caleb waved it off, a tired gesture. The dead were gone; the living had to keep moving. At least, thanks to Russell, their deaths hadn't gone unavenged.
With the spoils settled, the group scrounged up an intact boat from the shattered dock. Their own ride had been reduced to kindling during their grand entrance, and with the mission wrapped, there was no reason to linger in this demon-infested dump. They sailed for the portal, the ocean breeze carrying the faint tang of salt and blood.
At the base's gate, Russell exchanged quick goodbyes with Caleb and Leo, their nods heavy with shared scars. He summoned Pidgeot, the bird's wings kicking up dust as he took to the skies for home. Wyatt, meanwhile, strode off to report to the base commander. A temp gig escorting Russell and purging the realm? Not a bad deal, especially with a fat Association reward waiting.
Soaring above the clouds, Russell let his thoughts drift. High school felt like a lifetime ago, like he'd skipped senior year and leapt straight into the deep end of cardmaker life. Internship? More like trial by fire. He chuckled, Pidgeot's steady wingbeats a comforting rhythm beneath him.
In the sleek headquarters of the New Metro Cardmakers Association, Blake Whitmore savored a slow sip of tea, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold calculations in his mind. "Jonathan Whitemore's been handled?" he asked, voice calm but sharp.
Lance Jennings adjusted his glasses with a practiced flick. "Yes. Gave him a cover story today—put him in charge of the city's post-crisis cleanup." Subtle, not sidelined. Push Jonathan too far, and their target might catch wind. Slow and steady was the play.
Blake gave a noncommittal hum. Normally, he'd summon Jonathan and let [Lucius]—his loyalty-probing card—dig into the man's mind. But Jonathan's six-tailed fox card was a mental juggernaut. A psychic face-off risked exposure, and if Jonathan was innocent, accusing him could fracture the Association's morale at the worst possible time. For now, caution ruled.
Jennings broke the silence with a sly smile. "So, Director, ready for your new student in a month?" He meant Russell, of course. The kid's performance in the field was a masterclass—Riverview Province's unified exams would be a cakewalk. Jennings hadn't seen talent like that in years. A single card didn't make a cardmaker, but being miles ahead of the pack? That was Russell.
Blake's lips curved into a rare smile, no denial in sight. Even if Russell tanked the exams—unlikely—he'd still take the kid under his wing. Potential like that was worth betting on.
Deep in a dank, underwater lair, Regent Jin lounged in the shadows, his eyes glinting with amusement. Before him stood the man in the suit—the same one who'd been tailing Brother Tiger. "So," Jin drawled, "no chance of flipping Russell to our side?"
The man snorted, as if the idea was laughable. "Why would a kid with his future join you? After that Prodigy Cup stunt, the Association's probably rolling out the red carpet for him."
Jin shook his head, a pitying smirk playing on his lips. "You underestimate the power of a good offer. After all…" His voice turned velvet-smooth, sharp as a blade. "You joined us, didn't you?"
The man's face darkened, anger flaring. "If it weren't for my wife, I'd never touch you shady reptiles!"
The word "reptiles" made Jin's expression frost over. "Watch your tongue," he hissed, his Master-level aura pressing down like a tidal wave.
The man clicked his tongue but bit back his retort, remembering who he was dealing with.
After a tense silence, Jin's voice echoed through the cave. "The Association's next move?"
"No clue," the man spat. "They're cagey—must've sniffed out a traitor."
Jin waved it off, unperturbed. "I'll have Five test Russell again. If he doesn't bite…" His tone turned cold. "Kill him."
Back home, Russell sank into his sofa, legs crossed, mind racing. His cash was solid, but his real score was the two gold-quality bronze materials: [Bloody Devourer] and [Elite Pirate Swordsman]. The Devourer? No ideas yet—it was a wild card, too feral to pin down.
But the [Elite Pirate Swordsman]? A spark ignited in his brain, bright and electric. It wasn't just a card—it was a bond. A perfect synergy with his existing deck, ready to be forged into something legendary.
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