The morning sun over the Grave-Lands didn't rise; it bruised the horizon. The sky turned a sickly shade of violet, illuminating the dust that coated every surface of The Dead Man's Hand.
Silas stood behind the bar, counting coins.
[SYSTEM WALLET]
Current Funds: 120 Gold.
Debt: 0.
He tapped the air, opening the [Merchant's Exchange] tab of the System. It was a rotating holographic carousel of items that only he could see.
Lesser Healing Potion (30 Gold)
Mana Vial – 10oz (50 Gold)
Card Sleeve (Increases Draw Speed by 5%) – 500 Gold
"Highway robbery," Silas muttered, purchasing two Mana Vials.
Two glass phials materialized on the counter with a soft chime. The liquid inside was a glowing, electric blue. He uncorked one and downed it like a shot of whiskey. It tasted like battery acid and mint.
A shiver ran down his spine as his reserves refilled. The ache behind his eyes faded.
"You're packing," a voice noted from the stairs.
Elara stood there, leaning against the banister. She was dressed for travel—or at least, her version of it. A dark riding coat over her corset, a wide-brimmed hat that cast a shadow over her eyes, and a terrifyingly sharp stiletto knife strapped to her thigh.
"We're leaving," Silas said, corking the second vial and sliding it into his pocket. "Voss isn't the type to forgive and forget. He'll come back with a posse, or worse, he'll wire the Capital."
"So we run?" Elara descended the stairs, her boots clicking rhythmically. "The Card Sovereign, fleeing from a small-town sheriff with a broken toy arm?"
"We are not conquering this world, Elara. We are surviving it." Silas threw a travel bag onto the bar. "Get the supplies from the cellar. We leave in ten minutes."
Elara stopped in front of him. She reached out, straightening his collar. Her touch was cold, contrasting with the heat of the morning.
"You think running will reset the odds," she whispered. " But you know the rules, Silas. The Dealer never lets you leave the table while you're winning."
Silas swatted her hand away. "Just get the supplies."
She smiled—a secretive, knowing curl of her lips—and disappeared into the back.
Silas exhaled. He grabbed his bag and headed for the front door. He needed to check the wagon.
He stepped out onto the porch of the saloon.
He stopped.
The street wasn't empty.
A semi-circle of men stood in the dust, blocking the path. Sheriff Voss was there, his left arm encased in a crude, bulky sling made of leather belts and scrap metal. His face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead, but his eyes were burning with hate.
Behind him were six deputies with rifles.
But it was the man standing next to Voss that made Silas's blood run cold.
He was tall, wearing a long, white duster coat that was immaculately clean despite the dust. He wore round, smoked spectacles and carried a heavy, black iron staff topped with a glowing green crystal.
[SYSTEM ALERT] [SYSTEM USER DETECTED] [CLASS: GEOMANCER (TIER 2)]
"That's him," Voss rasped, pointing a shaking finger at Silas. "The Warlock."
The man in white pushed his glasses up his nose. "A Warlock? In this backwater?" He stepped forward, his boots crunching in the silence. "Sheriff Voss tells me you have a knack for barriers. Hard light construction?"
Silas kept his hands away from his sides. "I'm just a bartender with a unique party trick. We were just leaving."
"I don't think so," the Geomancer said. His voice was smooth, cultured, and utterly devoid of empathy. "My name is Cain. I represent the Guild of Iron. Unregistered awakening is a capital offense. I'm going to need you to come with us for... processing."
Silas calculated the odds.
Voss: Injured. Negligible threat.
Deputies: Nervous. Trigger discipline is poor.
Cain: The real problem. Geomancers controlled the earth. If Silas drew a Club or Diamond, he could match him. If he drew a Spade... he would have to kill everyone to keep the secret.
"I have no quarrel with the Guild," Silas said, raising his hands slowly in a placating gesture. "I can pay a fine. I have gold."
Cain smiled. "It's not about gold, my friend. It's about control. Now, kneel."
Silas hesitated. He could feel the Arcane Deck vibrating in his soul, begging to be drawn. The Karma Debt sat at 1%, mocking him.
Suddenly, the saloon doors swung open behind him.
"Oh, look at all the handsome men," Elara purred.
She stepped out onto the porch, holding a tray with a single pitcher of water. She looked the picture of innocence, but Silas felt a spike of magical energy that made the hair on his arms stand up.
She wasn't looking at Cain. She was looking at the youngest deputy on the far right. A boy, barely eighteen, whose rifle was shaking in his hands.
Her eyes flashed violet for a fraction of a second.
[PSYCHIC INTERFERENCE DETECTED]
"He's going to kill us!" Elara screamed, dropping the tray. The crash was deafening in the tense silence.
The young deputy panicked. The scream triggered his fight-or-flight response, amplified a hundredfold by Elara's subtle mental push.
He squeezed the trigger.
BANG.
The bullet tore through the air, missing Silas's ear by an inch and shattering the window behind him.
"Open fire!" Voss screamed.
"Elara, you witch!" Silas roared, but the time for talking was over.
The diplomatic approach was dead. The gamble had begun.
[THE HOUSE IS OPEN] [COMBAT PROTOCOL: ENGAGED]
Cain slammed his iron staff into the ground.
"Wall of Stone!"
The earth erupted. Sharp pillars of rock shot up from the street, aiming to skew Silas where he stood.
Silas didn't have time to think. He let instinct take the wheel. He reached into the void and drew blindly from the top of the deck.
[DRAW: 9 OF CLUBS (THE QUAKE)] [COST: 25 MANA]
Silas slammed his hand onto the wooden planks of the porch.
"Break."
A ripple of purple shockwave exploded from his palm. It didn't just hit the wood; it traveled through the ground, meeting the oncoming stone pillars.
CRACK-BOOM.
The conflicting forces met in the center of the street. The stone pillars shattered into gravel. The shockwave continued, knocking the deputies off their feet and sending a cloud of purple dust billowing into the air.
Cain stumbled back, his immaculate white coat stained with dirt. He looked up, his glasses crooked, his expression shifting from arrogance to shock.
"A Gravity-User?" Cain spat, raising his staff again. "Interesting. You're worth a high bounty alive, but you're worth half dead!"
Silas stood amidst the dust, the 9 of Clubs glowing faintly in his hand before dissolving. He glared at Elara, who was crouching behind a barrel, grinning like a feral cat.
She had forced his hand. She had turned a negotiation into a war zone.
And God help him, the adrenaline felt good.
"If you want the bounty," Silas called out, his voice amplified by the lingering magic, "you'll have to pay the Ante."
A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.