Thump-thump… thump-thump.

Ever so slowly, the effort he had to spend clinging to the heartbeat lessened.

John couldn't guess how long he spent in this limbo, covered in the silent void with only his heart for a companion. It could have been seconds or weeks for all he could say.

As time ticked by, the energy coursing through him reached an impasse, unable to press closer in, and lately, it even began losing ground.

That was the moment he realized what was most likely happening.

His black blood held the initial hit off long enough for his Champion of the Fourfold Crucible to kick in and began adapting his body to resist the nether.

After all, hasn't Melis'ar called it the Netherflames? Perhaps they were close enough to fire for the card to kick in.

Not knowing what else to do, John pitted his willpower against the energies, trying to ease the adaptation and strengthen his black heart.

An unknown amount of time later, he noticed the first difference.

It's working! He would have yelled out loud if he could.

His heart began adapting to the nether energies. The sickly green blood returning into it was no longer wholly purified, but the barest of slivers of nether was pulled outside the heart like a thread. John began coaxing its efforts, but a sudden feeling of wrongness nearly overwhelmed his senses.

Okay, spooling nether around the heart is a mistake, his incorporeal self shuddered.

But what else am I supposed to…

He watched as the thread began falling apart, splitting into an orange and black mist. His heart immediately sucked the black substance in, leaving only the orange haze floating around it like clouds.

This new development worked for a while, but John noticed another problem. As more and more nether got split apart, the orange mist began coalescing into small motes of flames.

Hmm, I wonder if I can…

Fully focusing on a freshly-formed mote, he clasped it with his will and pulled.

The flame resisted his efforts but after a moment of tug-of-war, it began to give and form a thin orange strand.

Perhaps this is the correct solution, he thought as he connected the thread with his heart.

It's working again!

The mote was greedily sucked in, staining the pristine black with an orange smudge.

The unexpected thing was, the—previously black—blood pumping out, now also carried specs of orange in it.

It's as if my heart is trying to act like a sieve, splitting the nether into its prime components, death and fire.

The progress was slow and arduous, but each heartbeat split more and more nether apart, using it to fuel itself and heat John's body.

John was roughly halfway done, when a new development burst in through his chest, ravaging all the nether in its wake and leaving angry-red burns from the flames left behind.

What is going on?!

Reacting immediately, he reached out to the new energy spreading out and found a tidal wave of life, bonding with any nether it crashed with, destroying the death component, and restoring the damage it caused.

His first instinct was to hunker down, protect his heart, and let the healing ability run its course, but…

Another powerful energy was within his grasp, and perhaps he could repeat the previous success. Unwilling to let the opportunity pass by, he reached out and grasped a tiny chunk, pulling it closer to his heart.

A stern warning of wrongness made him pause a finger width away, but thinking about the solution, he got a different idea. Use the orange flames as an insulator between the two opposing energies, and true to that idea when he connected the thread with the middle of the orange strain, the heart began sucking it in.

At first, it seemed like the idea worked out, however, as more of the pearl-white energy pooled in, the flames began changing color to a bright blue, and the moment they touched the inky black section, the balance collapsed and all three elements mixed together.

Oh crap.

To retaliate against the blue flames, the orange flames touching the death's size reformed back into the pale green and began wiping the other side out.

Funnily enough, John was certain that if this happened normally, the violent reaction would have cost him his life. Now, both nether and life energies were pouring inside in controlled amounts, keeping the stream steady, and as John pushed with every scrap of willpower he had, the conflict began calming down.

It took many tries and errors, but finally, he figured out the precise ratios among life, death, and fire to succeed and form something new.

John mentally cheered, holding a small grey flame within his grasp.

That served as a catalyst for change and he observed in amazement as his heart began changing into a flickering dull-grey color and greedily sucking both nether and life without any adverse effects, pumping out a tar-like ashen-grey substance.

Unsure of how long it would take for him to wake up, he released his strained focus, metaphorically leaned back, and relaxed. His job was done and now it was only a matter of time until his body fixed itself.

Thump-thump, thump-...

His heart suddenly stopped beating but his panic was alleviated by a sudden System screen projected directly into his mind.

[Attention sapient John Miles!

You have discovered a forbidden skill, Flesh-smithing.

Due to the special circumstances leading up to the discovery and lack of any outside assistance, you are allowed to keep it without any System-enforced punishments.

However, to prevent the spread of forbidden skills, you must make a choice:

1: Accept a binding oath to never reveal, teach, suggest, or pass the knowledge of such skill and also to never attempt to use it on anyone but yourself.

2: Lose memory of the time you spent inside your soul and have all changes made on your heart reverted to the previous state.

Note: If you choose the second option, you will be healed to the peak of your health]

Uhh, I did what now?

Re-reading the entire prompt, he committed every word to memory.

It must be forbidden for a reason, he guessed. And that is why I should not pass the opportunity up.

I chose the first option!

A shudder ran through his entire being and another message followed right after.

[The oath has been made.

Note: Unlike oaths between sapiens, this one is not only binding to the letter but also in the spirit of its intent.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Trying to circumvent it by any loophole or cleverness will be considered as a failure to uphold it and be punished by immediate eradication of your existence]

The world unfroze and his senses were suddenly bombarded with a myriad of feelings, making him gasp and open his eyes wide.

Am I under attack?

His vision was partially covered by another System message, but he was able to make out a silhouette of someone going for his chest. Reacting to it, he willed his stiletto to strike and punched out.

"John! Calm down!" A familiar voice cried out. "Listen to me, you are safe! Everything is alright."

Dilah'ec?

"Ugh… What is going on?" He groaned, trying to speak with the driest mouth ever. "Argh… Why do I feel like shit?"

John's body was cramping up in random places, making him repeatedly grunt in discomfort as he tried listening to their explanation of what had happened after he passed out.

To his surprise, Duraq'er didn't hold the unexpected strike against him, understanding the distress John felt in that situation.

"I appreciate you not leaving me there to rot," John said after the prince finished their side of the story. "Let me offer you a choice. I'll give you the Bastion promotion card and we consider ourselves even, or we first negotiate terms for our cooperation."

A brief moment of silent conversation ran among the prince, his Knight-Protector, and Dilah'ec, after which Melis'ar spoke out with reluctance in his voice.

"I am afraid… I have to ask you for both."

Huh? What does he…

"Ulian'al is heading to our shelter with the majority of his people as we speak. He is expecting us to have suffered significant losses against the Sector Overlord and to capitulate to his demands. Unfortunately, despite his wrong assumption, this will be his only chance to overcome our shelter and he will most likely attempt the assault anyway," Melis'ar shook his head with a dejected expression on his otherwise flawless face. "A confrontation between our forces would lead to many deaths and an uncertain outcome, but with your help…" despite leaving the rest unsaid, the meaning was clear.

"And why do you need the Bastion now?" John asked to clarify before giving his answer.

"That is, when anyone initiates the promotion, all other shelters have six hours to retaliate. After that, they fall under the Bastion's command structure and their aggression can be answered by removal of their rights to access any or all of their shelter's functions. That is including the System buildings," the prince explained, making John whistle in surprise.

"So if I understand this correctly, after six hours this entire city falls under your rule?"

Hmm, this sure makes things convenient, John thought after seeing the prince nod.

"What are your plans for the native shelters under your governance?"

"We have not decided yet," Melis'ar replied. "Do you have any conditions we have to agree on?"

"Hmm, maybe just leave them alone for now? I have no idea how it's supposed to work," he shrugged. "We can try explaining their situation, but if they decide to be hostile… well then they'll have to pay the price. Besides, I've not only heard but also seen some bad shit about a shelter in the center of this city, so this will be the perfect opportunity to sort that thing out."

Remembering the expression on the poor old lady's face made him clench his fists so much, that his nails dug into his skin.

"Most sapient races are similar in this," Duraq'er said in his gravelly voice. "If we gain access to Bastion, it will be our duty to uphold justice for all our subjects, whether they are Aerilians, Humans, or other sapients. And that includes punishing the bad ones."

Not exactly what I had in mind, but at least they seem like they know what they are doing.

That was the main reason why he gave up on Valiant's stand. It served its purpose as a shelter for those in need, but he could not imagine that council ruling the entire city. Besides, if everything works out, it wouldn't be just a city that will require a ruling hand, and having a leader who was taught from a young age was incomparable to a couple of random dudes mucking about.

And if it turns out that he had ulterior motives…

John's sinister smile as he pulled the card out made Melis'ar flinch, but he covered that with a polite cough, thanked him, and headed out—most likely toward their pillar.

"I have some System messages to go through, so please give me a minute. I'll join you after I am done. And once again, thank you for saving my life."

After a couple of words from everyone present, they left, giving him privacy for the upcoming notifications.

Pulling it up with a flex of his will, his vision got covered by a large screen.

[Attention!

Your Epic body-modification card Black Heart of Sac'ratash has been modified far beyond its scope, leading to the creation of an entirely new card.

Warning: Due to the source of those extensive changes, the card is fused with both your body and your Apocalypse deck, becoming not only soul-bound but also permanently locked in its current slot.

Note: The only way to change this is by the use of the same skill that led to its creation]

Opening his deck in a rush of excitement, John was greeted by the sight of his first orange card.

[Hand-crafted heart of the Pale Eternal (L)

A core of what makes Pale Eternals one of the most feared among the elevated undead species, turning two of their greatest weaknesses into their strengths instead.

Provides full immunity to bleeding and absorbs life, fire, and death energies coursing through your body to fuel self-healing and mending of bones and vital organs. This draining effect can be extended to things in direct contact with your open wounds.

Your blood retains the same qualities for a short duration outside of your body and acts as a life-bane, death-bane, and flame-bane toxin.

Soulbound, Deckbound, Fleshbound]

"Holy shit," he exclaimed as he read through it.

This upgrade is insane.

Pulling up his sleeves, John observed the changes in his skin. Where previously, he looked pale and with prominent dark veins, now his skin looked a more healthy shade of white with ashen-grey veins.

"And I no longer look like a corpse," he chuckled.

Continuing with the exploration of his deck, he noticed two other new cards and it seemed like luck had been on his side. The uncommon one was a single-use attribute boost to Perception, which he promptly activated. Unfortunately, that was balanced out by the rare, niche card for blunt melee abilities to reduce the weight of the weapon they were used with.

No matter.

Sliding down the comfortable bed, he gently stood up and found his legs healed and fully capable of carrying his weight.

The way outside the inn was simple and a moment later he found himself in the middle of the flat shelter, staring at the third building the invaders chose to build.

"Of course, they would pick the Al'drul's emporium," he smiled, thinking of the shrewd merchant behind his perfectly polished counter.

Oh, that reminds me, I should check the status concealment cards, he realized and headed for the glass doors.

Pushing them open and stepping into the opulent store, John was presented with a bustling atmosphere. In his Bastion, he was able to hog the merchant's attention, but in here, there were half-a-dozen invaders…

I should think of them as Aerilians, not invaders.

Well, half a dozen Aerilians, were browsing the cards arrayed on the gilded displays and an older gentleman was speaking with the obsidian merchant himself.

"... gratitude, Opulent Excellence." John overheard as he stepped behind the bowing man, who then vacated the spot in front of the counter.

"Hey Al'drul," John greeted with a cheery wave and a big smile. "I was told to ask you about status concealment cards."

"What an unexpected face to see here," Al'drul replied with a wide smile of his own. "About those cards, it depends on how much you are willing to invest. The cheapest one is for two hundred and fifty blue ash and the most expensive one is for seven hundred."

"Could you show them to me?"

Five cards appeared on the glass counter, ordered by their price from the left.

Hmm, John frowned, quickly reading through their descriptions.

The cheapest one only hid his race and grade, which was not what he was currently looking for, and the progressively more expensive ones also hid his emotions, attributes, threat, and the one for seven hundred even revealed the presence of everyone who failed to pierce its protection.

"That's a bit pricey and not what I currently need though," John mumbled, lost in thought. "Do you, by any chance, have one that only hides my threat?"

"Oh? That is an interesting choice, but I believe I have exactly what you want," Al'drul said and made the five cards vanish with a flourish of his hand, leaving only a single uncommon card.

[Predator's Guise (Un)

Can be linked with your body card to conceal your threat level, making you appear more harmless than you are]

"Perfect," John immediately agreed with an evil grin. "How much is it?"

"This one is the peak uncommon card, so one thousand three hundred and fifty white ash."

Checking the amounts of ash he had, he admired how much he collected.

Thirty-one yellows, two hundred and nine blues, and over four thousand whites.

"And if I may ask, what decides whether my card succeeds or gets pierced through?"

"The attributes. For identification and detection of threat, emotional state, and other similar things, it is most often an average of Perception and Willpower against the Willpower of the target. Bear in mind, the rarity and specialization of cards does make a difference both ways."

"I see. In that case, I would like to buy the Predator's Guise and two uncommon single-use Willpower boosting cards. Wait, actually, also add an uncommon single-use Focus as well."

"That will be twenty-two thousand nine hundred and fifty whites," Aldrul counted, placing all four cards in front of John.

"And I felt so rich just a minute ago," John joked, placing his palm over the yellow gem and willing all yellows and one hundred and forty-three blues through.

"Thank you for your help, Aldrul. I'll make sure to put those cards to good use."

On his way out, he was stopped by one of the scouts he recognized from his first encounter with Dilah'ec and Galan'il.

"John, his Highness wishes to speak with you. The competing prince's assault party has been spotted four streets away and will be before our walls in a couple of minutes."

"Of course, lead the way."