Chapter 3
“And here I was, half still believing you didn't really have the capacity for all the violence you boasted about.” Arthur could only shrug at the other man's words, the trio looking down at the dead body that was but a short walk from his RV after he’d driven a modest distance away. “A commendably brutal way to end such a despicable life, even if it was an accident as you so claim.”
“It is Tricen, no question of it…” Dianna nodded with an exasperated sigh, squatting down until the leathers of her pants creaked with strain, thick muscle and—other more eye-catching and astoundingly thick parts threatening to tear the poor trousers like they owed her money. A moment later, she’d spat on the creature's face, giving it a disgusted kick with her hoof for good measure after rising.
Arthur was just thankful she didn't splatter anything, or else the whole charade of his might fall apart… The demons were cordial with him, even friendly if he discounted Dianna, but he wasn't sure how long that might last if he didn't pursue his little—act. Death wasn't super new for him as he had to hunt his food, but blood and guts this old? Now coated in flies that created a deafening buzz… well, that was another matter…
He also got the sense they respected courage and strength, passing those over who didn't exemplify their people's chosen virtues… They were a warlike and domineering species that were, by their own admission, used to owning slaves and taking what they wanted, and, though he suspected his role in returning their kin played a large part in their conduct towards him, Arthur didn't want to give them an easy excuse to quickly forget that… The more he appeared to them as an equal, if not physically, then, at least culturally and mentally, then, the less he’d likely be treated like property, or worse…
“And that's your home then?” Tavir asked, eyeing the large RV with some uncertainty
Granted, it didn't look like a home, but that was just part of the illusion.
“It does get about twice as wide as it currently is, but its also mobile and, really, only meant for one or two people to live in whilst travelling.”
“It can get bigger?”
Arthur smiled, giving the older demon man a sly wink and a confidant pat on his shoulder, doing his best to swagger up to his home before connecting to it with his phone. He activated the tip-outs, the trio watching as engines whined, the RV expanding as it took on its stationary state.
“Utterly marvellous!” Tavir laughed, clapping his hands together like a delighted boy before a sweet. I doubt even the capitol has something quite like that! And, you’re sure there's no magic involved?”
“None!” Arthur grinned, opening the door to his home and folding it away. As it was, he wasn't sure if Tavir could get in, let alone Dianna, who, while not quite as muscled as the large bal, wasn't necessarily small in that particular department either and was certainly taller and had a wider wingspan…
Yet, the hooved demon-man proved more than capable of boarding, his wings folding upon themselves like a cowl over his shoulder until they hardly added to his size, Tavir climbing aboard with a wide grin on his face, without any evident concern. Dianna followed a moment after, considering Arthur with an unreadable expression as she passed. Their tails were more a problem than anything else, but each bal displayed a particularly graceful control over their bodies that allowed them to shift about without getting caught or causing damage. Moving with a cautious grace that was decidedly catlike as they squeezed inside.
“It's a room fit for royalty…” Dianna murmured once they were all standing more comfortably in his home, the popouts allowing each a semblance of mild space while standing. The way she said it seemed like she’d even partly surprised herself as she spoke, unable to truly hide her shock. Maybe she hadn't believed him; maybe she’d thought Arthur an outright charlatan. But, now, the gears in her mind were clearly working…
“A bit small for royalty dear, but the furnishings are on par with the best of the best, of that there's no doubt… Chances are the village won't look half as nice for decades while we wait for the imperial engineers to make it this far east… and even then, I suspect it would pale in comparison… Look! Plumbing! Ohhh, how I miss bathhouses… Curious looking toilet though… that is a toilet, right?”
“Hm! Yes, it is a toilet, and, before you ask, no, the waste isn't sent away with magic; it's chemically dissolved in a holding tank below. So long as you can catch your own food and find your own water assuming it doesn't rain, you can live indefinitely in here without any need for civilization.”
“Ah! What I wouldn't have killed to requisition a few of these marvels for the troops during campaign… morale would have never been higher!”
“Can you make more of these?” Dianna asked, turning to him as she tore her gaze away from the massive bed, soiled slightly by her daughter as it was.
Arthur scratched the back of his neck. Not needing to pretend to look a bit sheepish as, he offered up as honest a truth as he was willing. “Back home? Well, people were beginning to start mass fabrication, probably making hundreds of thousands a year… here… hmmm, truth is, I don't know… I don't have any tools here, no technology to work with, nor the original designs… but if my understanding of magic is in line with what I imagine it is, then, eventually, I suspect I’ll be able to figure it all out again, only using a different manner to achieve it all. It’s kind of exciting like I said before…”
“Astounding… Well lad, If I didn't believe your stories before, I do now… any people that can create something like this for its common citizenry is a force of culture to reckon with…” The older bal allowed a toothy grin to, presumably, put Arthur at ease… The thing was, with all the triangular points and his size and general—infernal flare, it really had about as opposite an effect as one might guess…
Still, he grinned back at the man, just managing to catch how his other guest was looking at him in a rather pointed manner, patient but expectant for his attention. When he looked at her, Dianna was—less hostile than she’d been but still didn't look terribly friendly. In fact, Arthur was just starting to wonder if she had a case of resting-bitch-face, and she was, in point of fact, nicer than she ever let on. The thought dissipated to the breeze a moment later as she asked the question clearly on her mind, the terrifying mother’s gaze pinning him with an intensity that was—difficult to ignore…
“What are these… plays that my daughter was talking about?” She asked, watching him closely as though expecting to be able to divine something from his expression as much as she might his answer.
Still, Arthur powered through his distress, nodding and walking over to his RV’s console, activating the hollow player and finding the children's show Tulla had been fascinated by. It was a classic, the yellow underwater sponge having even brought him through childhood in his earlier days and that of his parents. It was practically a running joke the world over that such a bizarre show should be capable of running nearly indefinitely… And as many times as it had been remastered and reanimated over and over, the damned thing was practically immortalized at this point…
“We call it a cartoon,” He began, waving a lazy hand as he did so, “and use them to entertain children, but there's more adult-oriented content as well. It's not everything my people have ever produced, just sort of my personal collection is all.”
“And why do you have—entertainment meant for children in such a collection?” The demoness demanded, looking askance at him as though he were some weird insect to be somehow more wary of than she already was, one with a decidedly questionable palate of bright and sickly colours...
Arthur shrugged at the domineering woman, unwilling to let her get under his skin. She was nothing short of a complete B-word, and, at this point, he was feeling little need to try and placate her beyond what he felt was necessary. “Nostalgia mostly,” He offered, peering away from her accusing gaze with earnest disinterest. “I watched them as well when I was a kid and never really deleted the things I liked off my phone's storage. Most of my kind are like that, sentimental, and we tend to have a pension for reminiscing on times past.”
“What’s a phone?” Dianna shot back a moment later, tone aggressively inquisitive and, likely not at all, having missed his air of flippancy.
He paused but a moment at her question, blinking for a second before brushing away her attitude. “Ah… the uhh, the device that I showed you all last night during dinner. We use them to communicate with each other across our planet, no matter where we are, instantly and without delays. You need more of them to actually use them for their primary functions, but the practically pocket-sized supercomputers at this point.”
Arthur could see there were more words that weren't being translated as Dianna’s brows furrowed, the woman quickly appearing as though her tolerant candour was slipping by the moment and he quickly offered her an easy smile. Just because he wasn't above getting a barb or two in didn't mean he had a death wish.
“That's my fault…” He admitted with a put-upon sigh. “It's hard to work around the soul card I have that lets me talk with you in the first place… it's not even mine; I took it off the deadman outside. So, if it doesn't translate properly, it just means there's probably nothing like what I'm talking about that exists yet…”
“Yet?” Tavir asked, his expression neutral as he spoke.
“I'm an engineer or artificer, remember? Pretty much all I do is make things… and now that I have access to magic, I’m sort of eager to figure out how I can replicate everything my people have made and, presumably, improve upon it… Magic isn't exactly a foreign concept to my people, with the larger issue of it all being that we simply don't have it… and, now that I do, my head is spinning with ideas.”
“You and I are going to need to have a long—talk lad…” The demon stated, all joviality vanishing from his tone.
“If it—about not letting what I know wander into the hands of people opposed to your imperium, then I should mention that the whole reason I’ve been so candid about all this is because of the situation I'm in.” Tavir nodded at him, arms crossing, but offering him the stage to continue, which, Arthur did so, making his case before the pair the best he’d yet thought he could do so. “I’m—alone…” He started with an apathetic bluntness that came right from his soul. “My people are gone, or at least not here, and I don't even know how to begin to think about trying to get back to them if it's even possible… That means I’ll likely die here as well… but that doesn't have to be a bad thing for me! Especially since my kind has all but dreamt of having access to magic! Despite how different we might look, it sounds as though your people are what my own would call civilized, and I would earnestly rather live in such a society than one too backward to be interested in innovation. So, If you're wondering what my intention is, then I’d say it’s to open up a sort of shop. Money never really interested me when I can just make what I want, but I do need natural resources, legitimacy, protection and, well, legality—assuming, of course, I haven't miss-read the situation, and you’re both about to place a chain around my neck and force me to do something ridiculously unproductive like wash dishes for a living…”
“Ha! The thought did cross my mind, lad!” Tavir chuckled, grinning at him with his returning cheer. “But, you've convinced me of your worth, squishy as you are. The imperium could use more of your kind if this is what you can bring to the table!” Tavir stuck out his hand, declawed, Arthur noticed, and as it was, looking almost entirely like humans, but larger and with black hints of his nails. “Centurion Tavir Costis, a pleasure to officially meet you, lad…”
Arthur nodded, taking the man's bear-like paw and desperately trying not to wince as its crushing grip all but smashed his capability to hold firm.
“Arthur Ashfield…”
The man smirked at his clear discomfort but, thankfully, lessened his death grip after finding his limit… “I might be semi-retired to a civilian role, but I can promise you that so long as you're in my domain, I’ll agree to keep you safe, so long as you put your mind to the betterment of the imperium. She’ll do right by you if you do right by her; I promise you that.”
“Can't give you any deadlines for my work,” Arthur admitted, sighing, but knowing the truth was the best way forwards. “It's going to be a lot of learning everything again from scratch…”
Tavir only shrugged, shaking his head as though Arthur hadn't yet caught on to the obvious. “You saved my niece, boy; in truth, even if you weren't worth what I think you might be, you’d have a safe life in my employ. Ah, the girl usually runs off a few times a week, but this time was the first that she didn't return or couldn't be found. Were I to guess, the cultist out there had some—magic or other that was disguising his presence… No other way he could have avoided being seen this close to the settlement…”
“On the matter of my daughter,” Dianna interjected, looking at the pair of them with narrowed eyes. “why is it that you've been so kind to her?”
Arthur felt momentarily taken aback, peering at the woman as his mind skipped mental tracks, looking to Tavir a heartbeat later to gauge the man's reaction, which, to his surprise, was equally curious as it was patient. “Are… people here not generally kind to children?” He asked, sensing the—delicacy of the situation.
“To their own species? Even if they are strangers? Sure, possibly… But for others… what would be the point?”
Arthur merely scoffed, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all and levelling Dianna with a tired look. More racism, he supposed, shouldn't have been unexpected… hell his own world had struggled with that for generations before all the various skin colours started blending in with each other… “Kids are kids…” He stated, not bothering to throw much life into his voice. “I’ve grown up around enough of them to know they're all fairly similar, if not necessarily the same. Why have I stepped on so faux pas I'm not aware of?”
“Tulla is—different…” Dianna intoned, admitted even, shoulders relaxing slightly as she spoke.
“She means the girl is nigh uncontrollable,” Tavir helpfully supplied, he too looking as though somewhat haunted by the prospect of it all. “She’s too smart for her own good and hates everyone but her family, and even then, the girl usually only tolerates her aunt… me,” Tavir laughed, tone darkly humorous. “Well, I could go a week without so much as a passing nod from the gremlin…”
“Yet all she has done since you left our home the previous evening is talk about her new favourite person in the world… why?”
“Maybe because I'm interesting?” Arthur offered, smiling at the giantess who rarely seemed to take her eyes away from him.
“Are you somehow familiar with raising children? Do you perhaps have your own?”
“I’ve got a large family.” Arthur allowed, choosing to ignore the blatantly belligerent inquisition and leaning against a nearby wall. “But, I'm more used to having other people's tiny kids running around my life at all hours than my own; you sort of pick up a few things when you’re always asked to babysit for your younger siblings. Honestly, I was the second oldest by twelve years or so—so I got saddled with a lot of that sort of thing. But, no, I don't have kids. If it helps, the truth is that they’ve always seemed to love me, no matter how many I meet, and it's not like I haven't had to change a dirty diaper in my life… comes with the territory of having a half dozen younger siblings...”
“Uncommon to see a man actually good with children before they get older,” Tavir grunted, disapproval on his face but not for Arthur himself. “It's a rare skill that more should possess, myself included, but rarer are those that ever seem to manage it.”
“If you're impressed with that, then you should try my cooking! You get good at it when there's only yourself to rely on, and, as it happens, my overstocked collection of spices made the journey in one piece!”
“A cook to boot? Heh… Now, that is a skill that I would have commandeered you for, were we still on campaign; nothing worse than serving in a fighting force with a distinctive lack of those who know what they're about with a fire!”
Hours later, Arthur watched as the two demons flew away, taking to the air with mighty beats of their wings as they lazily moved towards their small village. He could feel his heart beating in his chest at a mile a minute, could feel the sweat already starting to pour over him, even as his teeth chattered with uncontrolled fear… He’d done it… he’d actually done it… Arthur had to sit down, forcing his eyes shut as he remembered how close Tulla’s mother had come to squashing his insides like a bug… Terrifying… every—single—one…
He hadn't even been wrong about his read! Just how close was he at any given point from being used as a culinary curiosity, o-or, being shackled as a slave? What would have happened had he just driven away like he’d wanted to? The trail of his home leading directly back to the scene where the vengeful demon's daughter had lay unconscious. Would she have even asked for his side of the story before butchering him like a pig? Would he have even known what was coming? He shuddered at the thought… As human as they might have felt at first glance, they were, in totality, lethal incarnate, beings seemingly designed to be capable of murder at its very foundations. Graceful and beautiful as they were deadly…
“A succubus doesn't have shit on either of the sisters…” He silently whispered, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all, yet, unable to deny that, in a disturbing way, he had been, if for the briefest of moments, attracted to the lethal allure of the captivating demons… “Nope! No, no no, b-hahahad idea Arthur… You can bet that anyone looking like that’s idea of foreplay is sticking something painful in your gut… or worse…”
Now that he thought about it, what had happened to Tulla’s father? Were the bal a sort of society where the female devoured the male after copulation, like praying mantises or certain species of spiders? Arthur was adventurous, to be sure, but he had a feeling that he might be devoting himself to a vow of celibacy if only to ensure that he could keep on living… Jokes aside, Dianna would literally grind his bones to dust… And while snu snu had gotten fairly popular as a meme, Arthur prefered life to pevic annaliation.
He shook his head of the bizarre thoughts shortly after, standing back up and reaching for a glass of water. He had bigger things to concern himself with now that his safety was—tenuously assured. Figuring out magic being among the greatest on his to-do list. It was hard to believe that everything that had happened to him had transpired in the mere existence of a single day, but he knew he couldn't let himself be railroaded by his anxieties. He was in a world of magic, and, one where he’d been given a golden ticket. And, now, he’d even managed to secure a means of reliable information! The terror of course, was entirely real… but he’d been scared before… he could get used to it, was used to it thanks to his mind’s—personal brand of self-torture… And, of course, learn to ignore it when it came to his sleep demon, one day, standing above such concerns entirely…
He’d need a reliable way to defend himself, of course. Something to help even the odds… A nuclear deterrent, if you will, and one that would ensure his sovereignty for years to come. But, for now, he would be sure to walk on eggshells…
The translation card had proved to be—invaluable… but he still had questions that he wanted answered. Yet, for the time being, now that he had a few presumable hours to himself, he was going to decide which of his looted tarots would be worth keeping and which he would use to further his experiments with soul engineering. He had his theories, as it happened; being in a horribly stressful environment allowed him a certain clarity at times that was hard to find otherwise. If there were limits to what he could feasibly create, then he was going to find them! There was, of course, the issue of the body to deal with as well… and now that the demons had confirmed his story, Arthur reserved the notion of discovering a more magical means to deal with it as a priority in the back of his head. In all honesty, he would likely just bury the damned thing and be done with it. Though the lack of a shovel would hurt those plans…
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Of the ten cards he’d received from the cultist, Arthur had nine remaining. And the most contemptible of said collection immediately moved into what he was calling the waste pile, of which he would be using his powers to alter their very nature. Next was a sort of force-field card, somewhat childishly named magic-bubble. The tarot promised to provide the caster with an impenetrable barrier that would prevent any harm from befalling him whilst inside. There was no limit to how long it persisted and, likewise, no frame of reference as to how strong said barrier was. But, if he had to guess, the Tricen cultist likely had it active, seeing as how it had an hour cooldown but no time limit once deployed… that probably meant, at the very least, he could assume it wasn't strong enough to reject the kinetic force offered by his RV dropping from, well, however far it had, which, he suspected wasn't very far since nothing had broken. Not measurable knowledge per se, but it did provide him with an observable ceiling to start with…
He placed the bubble barrier in the keep pile, quickly moving on to a personal storage card. Again, he moved this tarot into the keep area but, did note the presence of a padlock upon the card's rear. If he had to guess, it either meant the card was unusable as it had been somehow linked to the Tricen beyond the same—manner that his own card had much more clearly stated... Alternatively, of course, it could allude to the notion that it wasn't removable once added to one's deck… unless—death released it? Either way, it was something he was going to ask about the next time he met with the demons… After that, things moved along at a steady pace. The food and water card was a keeper for obvious reasons. Likewise, he kept the summons card and the scholar card, if, for nothing else than to study them… If he could somehow use either, or something like it to call forth a small army of modern human drones, then he could rule this world with an iron fist! I-ignoring of course, that he really didn't want that, but a proof of concept was what he would need to focus upon building a swarm of nanite-like machines that could propel him into the world of tomorrow!
That made five cards that he intended to keep but wasn't married to, six if one included the translation tarot and four that he was more willing to gamble with. The cultist card notwithstanding, the others that he was passing on included a long-range communications spell. Not really something he needed given he had nobody to call, and was fairly certain he could mock something up himself along those lines all his own. There was an ice-spear spell card that he’d been partially on the fence about, but after going outside and testing it, the thing was entirely lacklustre in performance, at least when pitted against what he’d name archaic technology.
He’d seen compound hunting bows with more range before falling off, and a British empire-era blunderbuss had startlingly more accuracy when trying to hit a target with any distance to it. Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but he’d certainly not been impressed. The final card he’d be consigning to his experiments was one he didn't really have a firm understanding of. For all he could fathom, it was largely useless by its description alone… allowing its wielder to reduce their own sense of sight and hearing… A worthless addition to his repertoire if Arthur had any say of it, but, nevertheless, it was another card to use. Idly, he wondered if the Tricen were some—mole-like species… and though that didn't exactly explain the derelict village, it did sort of poke at a reason for the card's existence…
Regardless, he had a priority so far as the souls went, and the very first thing he needed was a means by which to obtain new cards. He hadn't seen any large animals yet, but, there had been several smaller critters about that each, according to the demons, did have soul-cards. The catch, of course, was that they all unanimously had ones that everyone already possessed or, simply didn't need… While it was true that the quickest means to obtain personal power was to use souls to empower those one already possessed, the issue arose, as it had been explained, that beyond a certain point, weak souls were virtually useless, no matter how many one chose to devour. It was why denizens of what was known as the Great Lacunae apparently entered a sort of sub-reality native to the universe they named the labyrinth. There, people could slaughter and be slaughtered to their heart's content, reaping as many souls as they wished, so long as they could remain alive to do so. Evidently, It was long accepted that traversing the labyrinth was exceedingly more efficient than just killing animals, so much so that entire economies were held up through the acquisition of souls through its supposed halls. They were traded as commodities, bought en mass by armies and lords, and purchased by tradespeople and farmers alike to boost their own capabilities. Things like crop cards apparently having quite an important place in society.
As he suspected, the cards themselves were a sort of crutch that people could rely on. Magicians certainly existed without the aid of souls to practice their art, as did carpenters, soldiers and blacksmiths, foresters and hunters… but the cards allowed an individual to bypass the need for skill and experience. Were they as effective as the real thing? Well, that Tavir had boldly offered his opinion on when stating he’d rather have a cardless veteran than a greenhorn with a spear-card any day of the week. However, that didn't mean that soul-cards were a bad option… More like a quick and easy avenue to power that wasn't as good as the real thing.
There was also the implications behind his own ability to consider, given that any soul he chose to alter would supposedly lose all its power in the process… thus all souls, no matter their ability, were—within the same realm to him… Stronger cards might be worth more but, at that particular moment, Arthur didn't see that great a value from something random vs something he could make. So, for him, either way, he would be creating cards from square one, no matter if he used this world's version of a bunny’s soul or the cultists… Cassandra had willingly delved into such topics at length throughout dinner, so he did have what she called a—rudimentary grasp on it all…
Still, he needed evidence to actually sate his curiosity, so, to begin, he pulled away the runner-up for the very worst card and the very best. Cassie had said it wouldn't be a bad idea to devour the cultist's soul into his own… but was his power something that would even benefit from becoming more powerful? Possibly… However, as the demoness had said, souls were limited by one's own card. A bearer of, say a silver soul could only ever add souls of a lesser rank of their own sparks quality. This essentially meant that, were Arthur to possess a, say, bronze soul at its first rank, he could only add bronze cards of the same order to his deck, yet iron cards could be added all the way to the tenth level, the supposed maximum before a soul could undergo an—ascension of sorts.
His card, however, seemed to—break these norms. While Cassandra had lazily stated that the tiers of a soul ranged from the bottom of iron through to the near-mythical prismatic, she hadn't ever mentioned what matte-white exactly meant… That being said, how would he ever know what the limits were if he didn't search for them to begin with? Thus, first, he picked up the ice card, noting its lacklustre tier and rank with a small smirk, given how bumbling it had felt to try and actually use it. Only a single star adorned its surface, which, to the best of his knowledge, meant it was at the initial strength of its tier, bronze-one. Not a terrible loss to sacrifice in the name of progress but, for all he knew, he was about to ruin the equivalent of a mason's income for an entire year…
Ah, but alas, what did he even care to begin with? What was a year's wage against the prospect of obtaining the impossible? Of breaching the unknown? Of audaciously manhandling the bar of progress and forcing it along through one's strength and determination alone? Obviously, Arthur hadn't ever done this before, but he fell upon an odd instinct that he felt within himself, pulling on it gently as he sensed something within his chest bloom… Before he knew it, Arthur was surrounded once again by a familiar white mist, the world around him fading away as the ice-card hovered before him. Internally, he willed the card to reset, needing to push at the thought with the utmost confidence before something finally gave way, and, just like that, the image on the tarot faded away…
What he was left with was a blank card, not unlike the one that was within the image inside his own tarot still in his chest… Now, what was the most absurd thing he could think of doing? Invincibility? A card that made him like Superman? Time manipulation? What about a nuclear explosion in a bottle? Or a genie summon? All utterly unreasonable things to ask of what likely was a basic soul card, he was sure but unreasonable was exactly what he wanted right now! Well, if anything, time was, in the end, the ultimate force of nature… To tame it would surely be an entirely hair-brained idea. He offered his power the proposed mental image, creating an idea revolving around the concept in his head before pushing it onto the blank tarot with all his concentration. The idea itself seemed to resist his efforts, pushing back with as much ferocity as he gave. Yet, he was not only a patient but a ruthlessly determined individual who had never much cared for rules he wasn't interested in. He pushed further, and pressed his case against reality itself until he felt the resistance before him slip. With a blinding glow, the card split into three forms, mirroring how he’d first encountered his own.
To the left was a simple clockwork stopwatch, ornate and beautiful in design, surrounded by ticking gears upon the perimeter and backdropped by even more rotating cogs, dark and only drawing focus if one chose to pay attention. On the back, a description of the card was offered willingly, unlike before, this time leaving nothing to mystery. He’d done it. There it was, a soul-card that would let him stop time… Hah! Bugsbunny would be proud… It was also pathetic… Permitting for a measly single second per entire day! Then again, it was only at its first rank and tier… And though a single second didn't sound like a lot… well, no… there really wasn't much a human could accomplish in a single second. But, again, proof of concept was all he really wanted. Still, there were two more cards to peruse, supposedly, each different from the first…
The second card looked, as it happened, the exact same as the initial example, and, last, the only differences being the descriptions themselves. So, ignoring the first, the next card offered a sort of automatic activation, allowing one to freeze time when confronted with a hostile intent on causing immediate harm. The duration was a full three seconds, but, the time between uses was a whopping week… A tough decision to be sure… on one had, what good was the ability to stop time for such a short period when one was being attacked? A single second on the first card would mean that, even if a hailstorm of arrows were coming you're way, you’d be fucked regardless! More, even if it was one archer hiding in the woods and you somehow saw the arrow flying at you're face. Was one second enough to get away? Ignoring how you even had the reflexes to act on that… Conversely, the second card was much better for combat in nearly every respect. It was, in effect, a get-out-of-jail ability that would see you from harm with reasonable surety. Granted, the drawbacks were large, but it was useful as it was where the first was—seemingly even more situational… but also offered a semblance of utility.
The final card was equally as interesting, allowing an individual to continuously set a rewind point for their own body, one that was automatically activated upon death or, willingly if so desired. Ten seconds was the span in which the card bearer could—revert, though the wording made it clear that it was only the wielder who would do so. In effect, it was like a personalized rewind time ability that didn't appear to have any notable drawbacks other than its oddly sparse description… In fact, it seemed so good that Arthur felt immediately distrustful of it! Nothing in life was free. And the idea that the card would be so wildly more effective, just like that and out of the gate was—concerning.
That left Arthur in an immense dilemma, as, before the final one, he’d already been sold on the first despite its limitations. Those could be improved, but while the second card might be great for fighting, which wasn't something he wanted to do, the final card refusing to actually stipulate any restrictions beyond the ten-second revert was—again, tough to ignore… He wondered just what that exactly meant… Would he—revert entirely? As in, memories and all? In effect, killing his present self off every time it activated… What would happen if he was somehow captured and endlessly tortured? Or, somehow managed to get himself trapped beneath the ocean? Did the timeframe collapse upon itself, or did it keep reverting to the same spot over and over again… If the card got more powerful, then if he one day died, would he be sent back endlessly as an old man, forever living out his golden years of infirmity? Why did this option feel like a trap? It was too good, far too good to be true… and dangerous as all hell… It wasn't lost on Arthur that it hadn't been he who had created these iterations… the concept alone was his; yes, it was true, but in the vaguest sense… He’d wanted a card to manipulate time. However, the details were entirely fabricated and not of his own creation. Was there some entity that was pulling the strings behind his power? Or, was it more like a power without consciousness? The descriptions had to come from somewhere, and if not from him, then where?
He couldn't help but feel this was a sort of test, though he wasn't sure if that was the correct expression… Either way, every instinct he had was telling him to steer wide of the final card… Arthur chose the first one, content with the limitations and strength while knowing it was supposed to be weak. The world resolved itself once more, the mist fading away without comment as he reached out and eyed the newly formed tarot. It was all the same, nothing new from what he’d beheld save for the supposed tier, which was, unsurprisingly, iron… No, nothing new at all, except for two discrepancies… The first was a familiar padlock that was in the upper rightmost corner, and the second was a new line of text that read; “Unique, one may only possess a single iteration of any soul-card relating to this card’s effects in their deck.” He stared at the words for a moment, heart beating rapidly in his chest. That was no coincidence. Something, if not someone, was actively trying to balance what he wanted to do… it was alarming food for thought… yet not enough for him to stop pushing the boundaries. If time wasn't off limits, then, in his eyes, nothing was; rather, it was all but a simple game of compromise…
Arthur picked up the card that supposedly deprived one of their senses, following in the footsteps of his previous encounters with the white mist before imagining a card that would allow him to possess more than ten cards, the hard limit affirmed by Cassandra herself the prior evening. Again, he felt quite a bit of resistance on that front but eventually managed to impart his will. What he got was another of what he was calling attuned cards, as the padlock only snapped shut after he added it to his deck. He could still take them back out and remove them entirely, yet the lock never actually opened again. Curiously, there was only a single tarot that floated before him this go around. And It let him add a single additional card to his deck, at rank one and tier one, and, interestingly, there was another stipulation about how many of the types of its existence one might add to their own soul, much like the prior card he’d just made. In theory, the card itself was useless as it required one slot to use and only offered a single slot in return. An investment, then… Presumably, at its next rank, or, possibly tier given its abilities, the card would let him have two additionals, thereby making it actually useful and, without a doubt, also breaking the rules of his new universe... Ohhh boy… It was all a terribly exhilarating concept…
He couldn't help himself, and, like every true science fiction nerd would inevitably lean towards were they in his position, the next tarot he received was something he added to his deck without a moment's hesitation. What was something one might find more impressive than manipulating time? Well, at least for Arthur, force-choking his pillow while proclaiming to it his dissatisfaction was a form of—sadistic pleasure he couldn't bring to words. Oh, he would be embracing his darkest of sides! And soon! Lightsaber in hand, Arthur would be subjugating this universe beneath the lightning powers of its new emperor! Of course, it was really just telekinesis, and, again, it wasn't without its limitations, but being psychic was something that humanity as a whole had been trying to figure out for the better part of a decade… ever since their very real appearance throughout the world, rare and, often times weak as they were.
It naturally didn't stop him from opening the special cupboard with his mind, procuring a coffee-wafer candy bar, unwrapping it and, without his hands, popping it in his mouth. Yes! This… this Arthur could get used to! He had half a mind to simply start feeding his psychic card everything else he had considering nothing else could be considered really worth it now that he could master all of reality itself! Unlimited power from his fingertips, a fleet of ships that could blot out the stars! He could crush democracy single-handedly! He could be immortal! Yet, he did have his self-restraint. Currently, the power was restricted to just five kilograms of force; whether that force arrived by crushing power, lifting something or pushing something, it mattered not. Again super cool, but not immediately useful. He certainly wasn't about to go around causing any damage with an approximate tenth of what an average human woman could squeeze with her hand.
This just left Arthur with his—abyssal card… What could he do with it? What should he do with it? He’d already broken the laws of earth physics… so screw it; why not go a bit further? Transmutation? Iron to gold? Not a bad idea were he still back home, but he didn't actually know what constituted as money here… well, actually, that was a bit of a boo-boo now, wasn't it? Soul cards were what counted as money, which made a sort of sense, sickening as it was considering where they came from and that they were likely the greatest commodity available.
Now, what was a concept that was utterly ridiculous, but would be otherwise infinitely useful to have for a man stranded away from technology and the means to make it? What could possibly top, or even equate to what he’d already done? Was there anything more that he might truly even want? Or that could so thoroughly spit in the face of science as he knew it? Slowly, ever so slowly, a maniacal grin spread across Arthur's face as an idea began slowly worming its way through his mind, the concept, quite possibly, the wet dream of any man who’d ever wanted to use his mind to create.