There would come a time in a man’s life when they find themselves at a crossroads, to be confronted with a decision that could very well decide the trajectory of their lives, or even metastasize into a decision between life and death. Such a decision, naturally, is not made easily. For more often than not, there is no perfect answer— weighing the pros and cons and trusting your instinct holds little meaning when your hands are glazed with sweat, pupils dilated and breathing so shallow that you barely make a sound even to the most perceptive of senses; for the oppressive pressure of risk piles upon you from every known and unknown direction, every breath, every twitch of your brow, every blink of the eye drawing you closer and closer to making a decision.
The canopy of the treeline cast plenty of shadow even in daylight, and Tom had activated [The Shadow] card not long after he’d identified the garbled voices as a cohesive language. From behind a clump of shrubbery placed adjacent to a wide tree, he spotted four silhouettes approaching in a direction that would run parallel past his hiding spot. As they drew closer, their features grew more distinct, until finally Tom could get a clear lock on the unknowns.
There was no mistaking it.
They were humans.
Tom’s gaze immediately flickered from one person to the next, taking care not to stare for a second longer than necessary. His first observation was the shiny, silver metallic box that hung from each of their waists— the realization was almost instantanous, Tom convinced that the box was designed to hold cards. As for whether it had any special abilities, that he did not know.
That, however, was rather unremarkable when compared to the bronze metal gauntlets they wore. The curious part being, that whether it be left or right, each person only wore a single such gauntlet. Tom strained himself a little to get a closer look, discovering that its surface had a barely visible rectangular outline, only making itself apparent to Tom when the red-haired young woman with mesmerizing burnished orange eyes stepped into a patch of sunlight cascading through an opening in the canopy.
Warning signals flashed in his mind, as Tom realized that it was some sort of device that helped the wearer utilize cards. It was the only logical conclusion he could see, and an obvious one. His way of using cards was too messy and inefficient
[Analysing…
Analysis Failed!
Analysis Failed!
Analysis Failed!
Analysis Failed!
The level of your target is too high to be analysed at your current level. Shroud prevents the target entity from noticing your analysis attempt]
Fuck! These people… they meant business.
Though Tom supposed that should have been obvious by this point. Their clothes had a militaristic air to them, a loose-fitting white shirt with buttoned sleeves and azure embroidery, a vivid emblem stitched onto them a little above the chest level that from this distance, seemed like splotches of white, blue and a little violet for the extra punch. Their trousers, while well-ironed and an immaculately clean azure, seemed too suspiciously baggy to not be concealing armor underneath.
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They were young, atleast by Earth’s standards— twenty one, perhaps twenty two. The make of their clothes, even from this distance, seemed to be extremely luxurious— observing the creasing of the fabric as they moved, he could tell that the clothes barely weighed anything. The shoes were where they all differed, though Tom didn’t stop to observe beyond a cursory glance.
Now, came the question.
What should he do?
If Tom asked his instinct, he wanted nothing more to raise both his hands in the sky and reveal himself. Well, his old instinct.
The new him wasn’t so trusting and neither was he that naive.
Glancing down at his beast hide clothes, Tom wouldn’t be surprised if they mistook him for a monster and blasted him to smithereens the moment he stepped out of cover. No… he had to ask himself. If he was back on Earth and he encountered a random man stepping out from a forest, caked in blood, draped in animal hide and exuding not-the-most welcoming odor, what would he do?
Call the police.
They wouldn’t take long to discover that he didn’t speak their language.
Then what?
They’d probably get an alphabet-soup agency involved and label him a foriegn asset. Or they’d discover that he knew no language known to mankind and stick him in some blackbox until they figured out what to do with him.
Not that he’d blame them, of course. People weren’t supposed to just phase into reality.
This was just the best case scenario, though. The odds that they’d take him to a police station, hand him a bowl of ramen and label him an amnesiac were slim to none.
What would happen if it was Earth three hundred years ago?
The same planet, but the outcome would be widely different. Maybe he’d be paraded around in a circus as a freak. Maybe he would be shot simply because they couldn’t understand him, and what humans couldn’t understand, they tended to shoot.
Even in the utmost best scenario, one did not simply walk up to a group of what looked like trained combatants in the middle of a zone known to be frequented by hostiles.
Should he take the risk? There was no fighting these people— Tom knew that the odds of him taking one of those gauntleted people were slim, let alone all four ganging up on him at once.
That required him to answer a question?
What did his instinct tell him?
It… told him that there was a third option.
One that did not involve surrendering agency to powers’ beyond one’s control or understanding.
The reason why [Shroud] hadn’t revealed its powers to him until this point was because he hadn’t encountered a single sapient being other than himself until that point. Tom blinked and when he opened his eyes again he… saw.
Above each of the heads of the four purported humans, red light bent upon itself until it formed the creepy visage of an androgynous jester with blurry, shifting facial features. Next to it was a number carved in crooked red light, each one different.
In that moment, Tom understood why [The Fool] has such a high SP boost. The truth of the matter was, it wasn’t a boost at all.
“56….52….48….34….” Tom thought to himself, his gaze shifting to a pale skinned man with close-cropped black hair and dark emerald eyes. Thirty-four Soul Power for a single skill? It better be worth it.
“Active shroud, Maya,” Tom whispered under his breath, and all was replaced with oblivion.