Fortune's Gambit was breathing hard.
So was I.
We stood a few meters apart in the fractured remains of my illusion sub-space—what used to be a controlled battlefield now reduced to overlapping realities and shattered geometry. Sweat clung to my skin. My legs burned. My focus felt like it was being held together with thread.
He laughed first.
"I'll give you this," Gambit said, rolling his shoulder. "Didn't expect that level of martial discipline from someone who looks like they'd snap in a strong wind."
I almost smiled.
"Appearances are a bad metric," I replied. "For both of us."
He nodded, genuinely amused. "True. With gifts like ours, not knowing how to fight up close is just bad risk management."
We shared a brief, mutual understanding. A professional alignment. Then it ended.
"Unfortunately," Gambit said, straightening, "my numbers are ready."
My stomach tightened.
Before I could respond, the world detonated.
The illusion space collapsed violently, reality crashing back in as a shockwave tore through the area. I staggered, vision blurring, instincts screaming as heat and pressure slammed into me.
When the dust settled, I saw it.
A crater.
Massive. Still smoking. Fire crawling along its edges like it was alive and near the bomb site, two figures lay motionless.
Rhea and Voltstrike.
Both conscious—but barely. Their battle had erased half the square. Whatever they'd unleashed… it wasn't something meant to be survived, let alone repeated.
So that's how far they went.
I didn't have time to process it.
"Argent," Gambit said casually. "Heads up."
He raised his arm.
A die formed in his palm—translucent, glowing faintly, humming with probability itself. He tossed it to the ground.
"Loaded Dice."
The cube bounced once. Twice. Then it stopped.
A five.
Gambit laughed.
Above us, yellow light projected into the air like a system notification:
Victory Probability UpdateVillains (Argent Squad): 10%Heroes (Voltstrike Squad): 90%
I exhaled slowly.
Ten percent.
People liked to pretend that was nothing. They were wrong. Ten percent was a window. A narrow one—but still exploitable.
I just had to end this before he rolled again.
Movement caught my eye.
Seraphim Ascendant descended from the sky, wings of light folding as he landed. Lady Aurelian was in his arms—unconscious, embarrassed even in defeat. He laid her down gently before stepping to Gambit's side.
From the rubble to my left, Ari and Juno emerged.
Both hurt. Both exhausted. Ari's grin was forced. Juno's shoulders were tense, her mana clearly stretched thin.
Everyone was here now. Lady Aurelian was out and that made it a three-versus-two.
On paper, we had the numbers.
In reality?
Luck had shifted the market.
I stepped forward, forcing confidence into my posture.
"Welcome to the final stage," I said. "Ten minutes left. I'll make this simple—surrender. You're outnumbered."
Gambit shook his head, smiling. "Lady Luck's backing us. Why would we fold now?"
Seraphim glanced at us, calm, unreadable.
"If anything," Gambit continued, "Argent and her villains should do the honorable thing and turn themselves in."
Ari laughed—sharp, bright, unhinged.
"Negotiations have failed," she said cheerfully.
I nodded.
"Agreed."
I raised my hand, illusions flickering into position as everyone tensed, gifts flaring, mana rising.
"Let's conclude this," I said. "Before probability decides for us."
The instant the words left my mouth, Juno and I surged forward together—no hesitation, no wasted motion. Ari hurled a smoke bomb past us, the canister cracking against the ground before blooming into thick, artificial fog that swallowed the battlefield whole.
Chaos, manufactured and intentional.
Juno went high.
I split.
Illusions peeled off my body—three, five, seven—each one sprinting, striking, feinting from different angles. Seraphim Ascendant didn't even look overwhelmed. Wings of light flared behind him, and every single attack was met with surgical precision.
Deflect. Parry. Redirect.
Too clean. Too perfect.
Juno followed through with a killing arc aimed straight for his neck. He dipped beneath it smoothly, barely bending at the waist.
I was already there.
Light condensed in my hand, shaping itself into a dagger—short, sharp, lethal. I slashed and a wing of light snapped into place, solid as steel.
The impact rang up my arm.
I twisted my momentum into a roundhouse kick, aiming for his ribs.
He slid back just out of range.
Annoying.
Behind us, gunfire echoed—sharp, rapid.
Ari.
I risked a glance. Every bullet missed. Not grazed. Not deflected. Missed.
Gambit wasn't even dodging properly. He was standing there, blades humming in his hands, probability warping around him like a bad joke.
Ari cursed loudly.
"This is bullshit!" she shouted, ditching her gun and drawing her swords.
She lunged.
Same result.
Near misses. Slips. Impossible angles. Every strike that should have landed… didn't.
"What kind of broken ability is that?!" she yelled.
I didn't answer. I already knew. Luck wasn't protecting him.
It was editing reality.
Seraphim moved.
A single, casual motion—and Juno was gone.
She was flung sideways, body crashing through the wall of a nearby building in an explosion of glass and concrete. My breath caught.
"Juno—!"
No response.
Not out. But close.
Too close.
I turned back just in time to see Gambit break through Ari's guard. A sharp strike. A twist of probability.
She stumbled, barely staying upright.
This was it.
We were losing.
Objectively. Strategically. Inevitably.
The heroes had control. Luck favored them. Power favored them. Numbers didn't matter anymore.
And right there—hovering just beyond my perception, pressing against my awareness like a locked door—
It waited.
The thing I wasn't supposed to use.
The thing that would change everything.
The drawback flashed through my mind: exposure, consequences, eyes turning toward me.
I should have hesitated but I didn't. A slow smile curved onto my lips.
Losing this match was already guaranteed.
But if I took that—
Then this wouldn't be a loss. It would be an investment.
Seraphim noticed.
His expression shifted—not fear, not anger—but concern. Like he sensed the board changing in a way he couldn't calculate.
Ari was still standing. Barely.
I needed one thing.
One last opening.
I turned my head just enough to catch her eye.
"Ari," I called. "Smoke."
She didn't question it.
Her last smoke bomb hit the ground and detonated, flooding the space in thick, choking fog once more.
Perfect.
As the world disappeared, I stepped forward—
And reached for the gift that should never have been taken.
—
Something was wrong.
I saw it the moment Argent smiled.
We were winning—objectively, decisively. Their formation was fractured, their stamina spent, luck itself bending in our favour. And yet she smiled like someone who had already reached the end of the board.
I opened my mouth to warn Gambit but I was too late.
Crimson Gale had already thrown her last smoke grenade.
The canister hit, burst, and swallowed the world in gray. Light refracted uselessly, my perception scattering as sound dulled. I moved on instinct alone, wings flaring as five silhouettes rushed me at once.
Five Argents.
Illusions.
I took to the air immediately to gain distance, elevation and control but that was a mistake.
Radiant Edge came out of nowhere.
She had condensed the last of her mana into her arm, shaping light into a brutal, oversized gauntlet. I raised a barrier by reflex, angling it to protect my face—
She adjusted mid-swing.
The impact slammed into my stomach.
Pain exploded through me, raw and humiliating, ripping the breath from my lungs as I was driven straight into the ground. I threw up a barrier just before impact, but it didn't erase the damage.
I tasted blood.
That alone was enough to make my mind stutter.
I had never been hit like that.
Not by someone wielding an affinity.
Not by an inferior expression of my gift.
My pride screamed louder than the pain.
I forced myself upright—
And Argent was already there.
She grabbed me.
For a fraction of a second, everything slowed. Her face was inches from mine.
Her eyes—
They weren't brown anymore. They were gold. Not reflective. Not glowing.
Hungry.
"What—" I started.
"Got you."
She kissed me.
The world froze.
Gasps erupted from the stands. I heard Gambit shout my name. I felt Crimson Gale's presence snap toward us in alarm.
But I wasn't embarrassed.
I was terrified.
Because during that brief, impossible moment, something inside me moved.
No—It was pulled.
Like a hook buried deep in my core, dragging against something fundamental. Light, mana, essence—whatever name you gave it, a part of me was being taken.
I shoved her away with force enough to send her flying across the square. She crashed into Gale's vicinity, skidding across broken stone.
"What the hell were you thinking?!" Gale shouted, panic sharp in her voice.
Gambit was already at my side, hand hovering near me, eyes scanning my body. "Gabriel—what was that?"
I raised a hand to stop him.
Because I could feel it now.
The absence.
Not weakness. Not damage.
A gap.
Something was missing—and whatever it was, it hadn't been taken randomly.
It had been taken on purpose.
"Get ready," I said quietly, eyes never leaving her.
Gambit followed my gaze.
Argent stood, bouncing on her heels.
She was laughing.
No—worse.
She was giddy.
"I got it," she shouted, pumping her fist. "I got it! I got it! I got it!"
Like a child who'd found a hidden prize.
This wasn't the same girl we'd been fighting.
Her posture had changed. Her presence felt… heavier. Sharper. Like the air itself leaned away from her now.
Her eyes burned gold as she looked at us.
Whatever she'd done—
Whatever she'd taken—
The battle had just entered a phase none of us were prepared for.