They laughed the laugh that comes after a near-miss — small, brittle, impossible to keep long. Midnight pressed against the pocket sky like a velvet lid, and the three of them were an island of warmth inside it: Blink, still cradling the crystalline key; Rogue, arms folded though her posture had softened; and the Trader, hooded and deliberate as ever.
Blink blinked, then broke into a surprised, relieved laugh that chased the last of the tightness from her shoulders. "Seriously?" she said, the word more wonder than doubt.
Rogue let out a short, amused snort. "Figures. Even cloaked devils have their soft spots."
Blink tipped her head, eyes bright in the violet light. "So if the villain was a beautiful woman, you'd still trade with her?"
The Trader's hood tilted minutely. His voice was calm but carried that quiet amusement that rarely left him. "If she carried something of value, why not? Beauty makes even the most dangerous dealings tolerable."
Rogue rolled her eyes but couldn't hide that small smile. "Unbelievable. Man's out here justifying contracts with villains for the scenery."
They traded jokes to bleed off the tension — a useful ritual. But beneath the banter the Trader's mind had already moved on. Blink's portals were not trinkets; they were a commodity the size of nations. A private gateway, portable transport, black-market highway across realities — a dozen different groups would trade armies and empires for access. The question that sat in his chest like a stone was simple: what could he offer that would justify the exchange?
A memory surfaced unbidden — the slow warmth of Soulless gifts on others, the first time he had nudged someone past their limits and seen a life redirect itself. Potential Release. Legacy Unbinding. He had used it rarely; it was an edge he kept in reserve. He had seen what even a whisper of that power had done for the wrong hands — or the right ones — and the image of possibilities sharpened.
He let his gloved fingertips tap the cuff of his sleeve, thinking. The answer came with the same soft certainty he preferred: unlock what was already inside.
When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of someone who laid down law, not invitation. "You asked if I'd trade with a beautiful villain," he said. "What you should've asked is — what I truly have to offer."
Rogue cocked a brow. "Well, besides smart talk and scary contracts?"
Blink leaned forward, curiosity sharp. "You've got somethin' more, don't you?"
He chuckled, a sound like a coin dropped into a quiet well. He drew his hand up and opened his palm. A faint silver gleam pulsed there, so soft it might have been mistaken for reflected starlight. The air above it bent like something breathing.
"That," he said, "is called Legacy Unbinding. Some call it Potential Release. I don't use it often."
Blink's breath hitched. The light made the grass at her feet glimmer. "What… does it do?"
"For lack of a better phrase: I pull loose the things you hide from the world about yourself. Strength, control, hidden growth. I do not invent power. I reveal what's been waiting, folded into you. Some wake and find their muscles stronger. Some find a new faculty of their power. Others simply understand themselves better. There are no poisons, no fainting spells, no… curse-strings. It's not an affliction. It is a push."
The single rule in his voice was blunt and absolute: unpredictable in detail, invariably additive in result.
Blink swallowed, eyes wide. "Does it… hurt? Will I—will I lose myself?"
"No pain. No loss of self." He closed his fingers around the glow and it dimmed. "The only unknown is direction. Potential is a map with many roads; I cannot tell you which path yours will take, only that it will open. What it becomes depends on what's already there. If you fear losing yourself to some new hunger or curse — that will not happen. You will be you, with more."
Rogue folded her arms, watching, the lines around her mouth softer for once. "So it's like a second awakening," she said quietly. "But… cleaner."
"Cleaner, yes." The Trader's voice did not try to hide the economy of it. "Less a violent rupture, more a tuning. Think of it as unlocking a chamber inside you and sweeping away the dust."
Blink's hands found the crystalline key and squeezed it as if it could anchor her. "And… if you do this for me, what do you want?"
He gave her the look he reserved for the moments when the ledger of a life needed balancing. "A copy of your ability," he said plainly. "Not your whole soul. Not your name. A reflection — a tethered duplicate I can carry and trade as I see fit. Your power remains yours. You will not be diminished. But the value of what I take equals the value I return. If your ability is the kind of thing every world would kill to own, then what you receive will be of equal worth."
Blink blinked. The idea of someone holding a mirror of her power, using it elsewhere, landed in her chest like a small, shocking stone. "You'd have my portals?" Her voice was small. "You'd… walk through them?"
"Only the copy," he said. "It will be tethered to me. It will not break the bond between you and your gift."
She looked to Rogue then, searching for steel. Rogue's face gave nothing away; she had a right to: she had just been given Control and had not yet known the full price it would extract of her privacy. But Rogue's expression held an almost weary practicality.
"If the System says it's fair, then it's fair," Rogue said finally. "He gave me something that works. Don't be a fool about this, Clarice. But if you want to grow—if you want more—this is how you get it."
They stepped away from the Trader as if to confer in private, though the pocket space was small. Blink's voice trembled when she spoke. "It's tempting. I can hear it already — doors… different kinds of doorways. Shortcuts, long shots… maybe even bridges. Not just get-away, but real control. I could… be safer. I could help people. I could—"
"Think straight," Rogue interrupted softly. "It's a one-way change. You don't get to test it and return it. And it'll change how people look at you. Power like yours draws interest. Make sure you want that kind of attention."
Blink shut her eyes for a heartbeat and then opened them, steadier. The crystalline key flashed in her palm like a promise. "I know all that. I still want it."
Rogue studied her, then nodded. It was not a decision she could make for Blink. The sliver of a smile Rogue gave was more like permission than counsel. "Alright," she said. "If you're doing it, do it with eyes open. The Trader's contracts are binding. You'll know what you know, and nothing he says can be false about the System."
Blink drew a breath the way someone bracing to jump does. She stepped back to the Trader, and the hush that followed felt official.
The Trader inclined his head as if in acknowledgement of a bargain struck in older blood. He raised his hand once, fingers moving in a practiced rhythm that made the air after them tremble. Invisible script rose into being where his fingers had danced. He did not speak; his gestures were language enough.
A hologram unfolded in the violet air before them, crystalline letters of purple and silver. The System's presence, exact and inevitable, leaned into their world with the same legalistic chill as a court summons.
---
[SYSTEM TRADE CONTRACT]
CUSTOMER: CLARICE FERGUSON (BLINK)
DESIGNATION: MUTANT — SPATIAL WARPING / PORTAL GENERATION
TRADER: ??? (THE TRADER)
DESIGNATION: MULTIVERSAL CONTRACTOR
---
OFFER: → LEGACY UNBINDING (POTENTIAL RELEASE)
EFFECT: PERMANENTLY UNLOCKS AND EVOLVES THE CUSTOMER'S INNATE POTENTIAL, ENHANCING EXISTING MUTANT ABILITY TO ITS NEXT STATE OF DEVELOPMENT. OUTCOME IS VARIABLE BUT ALWAYS BENEFICIAL.
TYPE: IRREVERSIBLE, PASSIVE/ACTIVE DEPENDING ON MUTATION.
---
TERMS OF TRADE
1. UPON ACCEPTANCE, THE TRADER SHALL IMMEDIATELY EXECUTE LEGACY UNBINDING ON THE CUSTOMER.
2. IN RETURN, THE TRADER SHALL GAIN A COPY OF THE CUSTOMER'S ABILITY (SPATIAL WARPING / PORTAL GENERATION).
3. THE CUSTOMER'S ORIGINAL ABILITY REMAINS HER OWN AND WILL NOT BE DIMINISHED, ALTERED, OR LOST IN THE PROCESS OF COPYING.
4. THE CONTRACT IS PERMANENT. NEITHER PARTY MAY RESCIND OR ALTER THE TERMS ONCE EXECUTED.
---
FAIRNESS CLAUSE
→ AS THE CUSTOMER'S ABILITY HOLDS HIGH UNIVERSAL UTILITY, THE TRADER IS REQUIRED TO RELEASE AN EQUIVALENT TIER OF POTENTIAL WITHIN HER. THIS GUARANTEES BALANCE AND ELIMINATES THE RISK OF UNFAIR GAIN.
---
SYSTEM ENFORCEMENT CLAUSE
→ ANY VIOLATION OF THIS AGREEMENT SHALL INVOKE AUTOMATIC ENFORCEMENT BY THE SYSTEM. FAILURE TO UPHOLD ONE'S END IS IMPOSSIBLE.
---
[ACCEPT] — [DECLINE]
---
The letters hummed, silver sparks licking their edges. Blink stared until the runes reflected in her pupils. The world felt thinner somehow, as if something had been unlatched in the very air.
Rogue stood a step behind her, arms still folded. "Don't let him charm you with pretty words," she said in a low voice, not for the Trader but for Blink. "He trades power for power. Make sure that's what you want."
Blink's throat bobbed. She remembered nights alone, the key warm in her hand, the way a little gatelet in a back alley had saved her from being caught once — only once — by someone who would have used her. She thought of doors lost in the scramble between worlds, of people stranded where no one could find them. She thought of the tiny, dangerous hope that a wider reach might become a tool, not a weapon.
She lifted a hand, fingers trembling as they hovered over the glowing bracketed words. The violet sky held its breath. Somewhere in the edges of the pocket dimension, the white wall shone like a promise and a warning at once.
The Trader watched her with the impassive patience of a man who had waited years for the right counterparty. The faint crease of a smile—almost a thing of privacy—touched the edge of his mouth.
Blink closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again they were steady. She pinched the space between the brackets as if taking a coin and dropping it into fate.
"I accept," she said, voice thin and certain.
Her fingertip pressed [ACCEPT].
The System registered the input with that soft, bone-deep chime they had all heard before — the sound of a switch thrown. Light flowed along the letters and into the ground beneath their feet as if the pocket itself acknowledged the bargain.
Rogue exhaled once, hard and small. Blink's hand still trembled where it rested flat on the grass. The Trader lowered his hood a fraction, the silver light pulsing within his palm in answer — not theft, not theft's music, but the rhythm of a door unlatching somewhere deep inside a life.
For the Trader the ledger balanced; for Blink the map of her future had a new road carved into it. The pocket sky watched in silence as the first footsteps of that road began to echo.
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CHAPTER:- [110- FOUR LEAF CLOVER] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON