The Legendary Fool

He…

Who was he?

The young man cast the thin blanket covering him, getting back onto his feet. His expression was that of an unsettled man, but he couldn’t quite point out the reason why.

A mirror. He needed a mirror.

His instinct guided him, and he found no reason to refuse. The room wasn’t particularly large, but the owner had managed to cram in a significant amount of luxury goods in the space, including an ornate wall mirror. Walking over to it, he found a pale-skinned man staring back at him, his high cheekbones, dark emerald eyes and well-built physique giving the impression of an athlete.

Was that…him?

Who was he again?

“Statistics,” he muttered aloud. For some reason, it just felt like the right thing to do.

[Name: Zenakris Renain

Age: 22

Affiliation: Syrelore Kingdom Nobility

Soul Card: The Umbra, Uncommon [Level 9]

Statistics:

Physical: 17

Mental: 14

Proprioception: 11

Soul Power: 16 [21] ]

“Zenakris Renain?” he muttered out aloud, the words unfamiliar to his lips. He supposed that was his name. Surveying the room, another question popped into his mind.

Where was he?

Syrelore Academy. Yes, it was slowly coming back to him. He was the son of Arrenis Renain, a decorated noble in the cabinet of the king and a formidable combatant, having reached level twenty with an [Uncommon] ranked [Soul Card] at the age of thirty-five.

King, ha. What a farce.

The thought was full of disdain, as a fresh burst of memories forced their way into his mind. The [Realm Seal] was the first— an unimaginably vast net that shielded Artezia from the [Phantasmal Beings] that had been trying to invade for eons. The exact specifics of it he couldn’t recall immediately, but it gut told him there was nothing more there that was relevant to what he wanted to know. Then came the existence of [Dungeons], [Rifts] and most importantly [Towers].

The [Realm Seal] wasn’t powerful enough to hold back the [Phantasmal Beings] in perpetuity, so it allowed some to funnel through openings that it intentionally created. [Dungeons] and [Towers] dotted the landscape of Artezia, while [Rifts] tended to be accidental lapses in the System’s judgement, though he felt pretty dismissive about those.

Apparently, the concentration of energy upon the Surface World was too shallow for there to be any meaningful rifts here.

Clearing these [Towers] and [Dungeons] gave valuable cards, levels, gear and many other valuable loot in return, but ultimately they were inconsequential in the larger picture.

The status of one’s Nobility, rather ironically, was not decided by one’s strength or even accomplishments, no. Instead, it was judged by what [Floor] your [Ancestor] had climbed till and how greatly he valued you. For there was one tower above all, TheAerianiculumn, which he somehow knew translated to the ‘Tower of Endless Horizon’- where the true paragons of humanity resided, where the rank of cards you could obtain was as limitless as your imagination and finally where you could fight on the true frontlines in the war between the residents of Artezia and the Phantasmal.

It was said that the remains of twelve worlds that had shattered in the wake of the [Phantasmal Incursion] had been reforged into this one tower, spatial distortion and folding making the tower seem so puny from the outside when in reality it contained a land far wider than Artezia, except it was spread across floors.

For example, his revered Ancestor Varikas Renain had successfully climbed to the ninth floor, while the king’s descendant on the other hand had reached the fifteenth floor. Though he doubted the ancestors viewed the surface world as anything but a game to be played in their free time, a creche from which they hoped to sire one or two worthy descendants at most— though the exact population of the Aerianiculumn Tower could not be estimated, his father had once said that it was likely close to reaching parity.

There was only one reason his father himself had refused to ascend— for those who entered the Tower could never return to the surface world, barring a few exceptions that were out of reach for most even inside the tower.

He was not his father though, long having sworn to make the journey— to delve towers and dungeons, to roam the land in search of rifts, to continually strengthen himself until he was worthy enough, or atleast considered himself worthy enough to survive the Aerianiculumn Tower. His father believed that an [Uncommon] card had sealed his destiny, that only [Rares] and higher could survive in that meat grinder, but he was determined to prove him wrong.

A knock rapped against his wooden door’s body, rousing him from his reverie.

He gingerly walked up to the door, twisting the knob and cautiously opening the door.

Why was he so cautious? Wasn’t this his room?

A beautiful young girl made her presence known in the center of his vision, her short, fiery red hair matching the intensity of her burnished orange eyes that bore down upon him, an intensity that Valerie Nezeria exuded rather effortlessly. She was short, her cheeks full despite her otherwise lean and tone body, her expression slightly miffed even as her body was relaxed, yet ready to react at a moments’ notice— the hallmark of special forces back on Earth.

Earth? What was Earth?

What an odd thought. Disregarding it, a light blush made its way onto his face as he made eye contact with the girl. Despite the facade of sterness and stoicism she maintained, or rather, had to maintain as the daughter of the King’s right hand man, the Noble that was responsible for trade and finances— Lord Ramav Nezeria, he… found her incredibly cute.

The feelings that welled up in his heard were both familiar and unfamiliar, as if he hadn’t felt them in a long time.

He…. liked this girl.

“Akaresh kal mok!” Valeria exclaimed, her expression more grumpy than angry.

“Zaleriis s-shan karik” He replied almost instintinctively, somehow able to parse the meaning of her words and respond in kind.

Translated, the conversation roughly went along the lines of:

You’re late!

Sorry, just give me a minute.

Right. He had to get ready. He jogged over to his bedside table, grabbing the silver deck-holder from his bed and holstering it onto his belt.

“Inventory,” he spoke aloud, reaching his hand into the void and pulling out a bronzed gauntlet that he slipped into his left hand. His right was his sword arm, of course.

The [Card Gauntlet] was both a simple and complex device. It had required him months of training before he had learned to imprint his soul onto the artifact, tricking his [Deck Cards] into believing that the Gauntlet was a part of his soul and thus, to exclude it from damage, but the actual mechanism was quite simple.

All he had to do was equip all four of his deck cards into four slots that ran along the [Card Gauntlet’s] circumference and he could cycle through them with a thought, albeit there was a small delay between its switch. It was only [Common] ranked, after all.

There was a fifth card he pocketed, the true reason for his visit. Two more of his friends, or rather, their friends would be tagging along. He had the [Soul Summoner] card with him and today would be the day he would finally get a Soul Pet of his own.

He found himself walking along the streets of the Academic City, Renovia, a vast melting pot that had around a hundred thousand citizens in total. It was also the Capital of the Syrelore Kingdom, so that was a given— the forefront of innovation, artifact research and naturally, hopefuls vying for entry in the Syrelore Academy, which had a notoriously strict and unforgiving criteria.

Their promenade ended when Valerie stopped before a set of mottled stone double doors affixed to a cave entrance that naturally receded into the earth. The surrounding passersby gave them a wide berth, keeping atleast a ten meter distance between themselves and the dungeon— though it seemed more ingrained instinct than genuine fear.

Valerie had a map in her hand that she was studying, and he couldn’t help but observe how cute she looked when her relatively pudgy was scrunched up in concentration.

“The Zenari said they’d clear this route for us before splitting off to a different sector. Unless any of you pissed them off lately, we should be good,” She gave their faces a searching look and upon finding nothing, shrugged.

“Fine, let’s head in.”

Their journey was a rather uneventful one, as they trawled through unlooted corpses of [Nether Devils] upon their way. The highest they went were level five and none present required the meagre bounty they had to offer— it was good form to let unneeded loot go unclaimed, adding it to the [Divine System’s] coffers and hopefully letting it go to someone who needed it more. That and they were too lazy to loot the corpses individually.

An hour later, they stepped outside the dungeon, greeted by two armed guards in their late forties. Both had [Common] cards and both were exactly [Level 20], which, despite the difference in the rarity of their cards, was not to be scoffed at.

“Academy students, ah? Off to get a summon ah’ guess?” One of the guards asked.

“Yes, sir,” Valerie replied with a light curtsy. Noble or not, one offered respect to the Dungeon and Tower Guards, for technically they were under the employ of the [Divine System] and not the kingdom.

“They dropped some new’one’s lately, ah. A Male ‘n’ a Female Elfinclaw, ah heard. Though yer didn’t hear it from me,” The bearded guard averted his gaze, sudden;y finding the treeline quite impressive.

“The Nezarie Family thanks your generosity, good sir,” Valerie offered another curtsy, before their group scurried off to the menagerie.

“Ah, what’tis like to be young,” The guard muttered aloud as he saw the excited kids bustle towards the forest.

The other guard just grunted in response.

A [Soul Summoner] card didn’t quite work in the way one would expect. Though he had no idea why he would expect anything else at all. You had to fell the beast in direct combat without any external aid from others; his friends had just tagged along in the spirit of comradery and then use the [Common] ranked card instead of absorbing the beast’s [Soul Experience].

That way, a translucent beast that could exist in physical form for a limited period of time could be summoned— the beast was no thrall and had a will of its own… which tended to make things complicated. The first dozen or so times the beast, even in its soul form, would generally try to rip your throat out, but after being beaten into submission enough times it usually yielded to its master and agreed to fight alongside him.

There were other, more powerful cards that could bind Souls without needing to kill the beast, but for the present him they might as well be myths. Besides, his father had one and it was amenable enough to play with him when he was a child.

The problem arose the moment he stepped into the forest.

“Whats wrong, Zenakris?” Valerie asked as he had stopped in his tracks. A flurry of visions flashed through his mind, first depicting a young teenager in odd patterned clothing that fought off potential summons with laughably poor form, making mistakes after mistakes that were unthinkable of someone who lived in the Academic City, let alone a student of the prestigious Syrelore Academy. Yet, why did he look so…. unsettlingly familiar? As if it was a long lost family member standing in front of him, yet he found himself frustratingly unable to make the connection.

He watched as the young teenager grew in both form and power, his patterned clothes replaced with animal hides and his poor form replaced by a glimmer of intent behind his bladestrikes, a viciousness that the Academy drilled into them learned in a manner of days.

He felt… proud?

How odd.

“Nothing. I’m just excited to get the Elfinclaw. Let’s keep going,” he smiled, a facade, but one that seemingly worked as Valerie continued moving.

Ten minutes later, he froze on the spot.

Goosebumps arose on his skin, a chill running down his spine.

Look to the side. Look to the side. LOOK TO THE SIDE!

His mind screamed at him, the originally muted sounds now a full blown roar.

So… he slowly swiveled his head. Slowly, as if he dreaded what he found. First his gaze went to the Shallen-Dar Trees that populated this forest, and then to the patch of shrubbery adjacent it. A writhing mass of shadows, [The Shadow] card the most likely culprit behind it.

An assassin? Laughable.

“Absorb,” he commanded, and [The Umbra] card stripped the shadows off the would-be assassin’s visage, forming a perfect sphere in the palm of his hand. Revealing…. a teenager…the very same one from his visions…

.

HIMSELF.

“This isn’t real,” Tom/Zenakris muttered, stumbling back a few steps. The dissonance between memories, the vague murmurings in his mind about another world, the gaps in information, things he’d never seen before, things that no hallucination could reproduce….

“THIS ISN’T REAL!” Tom roared, his eyes flashing like the pupil’s of a rabid wolf.

A crack appeared in reality itself, stretching across from one corner of his vision to the other.

That confirmed it.

“Zenakris, are you alright?” Valerie asked him, her eyes shimmering like setting sun, the concern within them almost palpable.

“I don’t know you. This isn’t my life. YOU. WILL. NOT. TAKE MY MEMORIES!” Tom again, feeling himself pushed to the limits of his sanity. It was the one thing he had. The one thing that defined him. This struggle. This achievement. The feeling of conquering. The sensation of winning. He might not share Zenakris’ grand desire to reach the top of the Aerianiculumn Tower but that didn’t mean that he would just yield to some pompous, privileged noble prick.

“I will not yield,” Tom muttered as he felt the grip of insanity approach, Zenakris’ memories, his being, his existence, trying to overwrite his own.

The sphere of shadows in his hands split into three spikes that headed for his crush, his purported best friend and his brother—all of whom he hadn’t seen before this day. It was a distraction, he knew that they would counter it.

But it didn’t matter.

Time was running out.

Tom withdrew Zenkaris’ prided sword, and began to laugh as he stabbed himself in the chest, skewing his heart. A flower of blood blossomed across his chest, and the scene shattered.

If you asked Tom who he was in the old world, he wouldn’t be able to give you a truthful answer. What was a man who stifled his yearnings, closed himself off from the world and simply went through the motions that was life. He was alive, he supposed. He was motivated enough to keep working. He liked hot coffee and donuts. One day, maybe he’d ask someone out. He was just.. one among many, at the end of the day.

Now though, as Tom floated in an all-encompassing void, he knew the answer to that question. He was Thomas Lowe. He was [The Fool]. He was a man who had faced the most unfavorable of odds and had come out in one piece. He could be enterprising. He could be clever. He could also be quite foolish sometimes, but that was okay. He accepted him for himself.

A sea of stars twinkled all around him, a few at the furthest reaches of the void, shining a bright golden. There were a dozen or so silver stars, and hundreds of stars that glew with a bright bronze sheen. He… somehow understood where he was. What he was going through.

It was a battle of consciousness and Tom had managed to… survive the first onslaught. So he supposed that… he was in Zenakris’ mind, and these were his memories?

Tom tried to move his hand, but immediately felt a force of rejection that began to crush down upon him from all directions. The world… or rather his mind, was rejecting him.

In the real world, Zenakris, who had walked past Tom’s hiding spot unwarily, clenched his head as a sudden shooting pain struck him.

The Golden, Silver and the Bright Bronze stars were out of his reach. But there was something he could reach for.

His instinct, or rather, [The Fool’s] instinct, drove him to a card that was two arm’s lengths away. Normally, Tom would be horrified at the concept of shuffling around in someone’s mind, much less wanting to read their memories but…. This ….bastard had the audacity to try and overwrite his mind.

Tom was furious. Furious beyond belief.

It was a sensation that words alone could not begin to describe, the sensation of your being being stripped away from you as you watched, aware yet unaware.

Tom’s hand reached outwards.

Vengeance could be a powerful force. And Tom would harness it, because he needed it.

His hand reached outward and outward and the pressure crushed down upon him with a hatred that equalled his own. Tom’s eyes were bloodshot, and a few seconds in his capillaries started to burst one after the other.

This. Wasn’t. Real.

So he kept going, letting out a bloody scream till his vocal cords left.

His eyes as wide as saucers, Tom let out a mad grin as he felt his hand wrap around the Dull Bronze star.

Vengeance was his.

Tom awoke with a startled gasp for air, heavily wheezing as he clenched his chest and struggled not to heave over his breakfast. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his eyes wide in disbelief as he just thought back on what he’d experienced.

What the fuck kind of skill tried to wipe his memories!

… was what Tom barely managed himself from screaming out. Motherfucker!

[You have experienced Maya, the infinite web of illusions. You have copied a complete memory of the Aldorian Language, and can now speak it fluently. A False Status depicting the Status of Zenakris Renain will be recreated from your experienced memories. Active Shroud has copied the appearance of Zenakris Renain. Both effects shall last for the next twenty four hours.]