Selena would hate me for this.

She’d throw a fit if she knew I was actively recruiting Silhouette… for lots of reason. In her mind, he was too dangerous, too unpredictable. But I didn’t see it that way. Silhouette wasn’t the monster people whispered about in hushed tones. Sure, he leaned into his theatrics—walking the razor-thin line between humanity and something darker—but he wasn’t the aggressor everyone assumed him to be.

No, Silhouette was neutral, almost maddeningly so. His ambition and calculated moves made him seem ruthless, but they hid a deeper truth. His power was terrifying, yes, but it was also controlled. That kind of precision was rare. It was the reason I wanted him on the team.

Of course, convincing him wouldn’t be easy. The man—or shadow, depending on the moment—wouldn’t join us without a test of wills. That was why I came prepared.

Black stood beside me, silent but alert, his diamond tattoos gleaming faintly in the moonlight. In front of us loomed a solitary cathedral, rising like a mirage from the barren desert. The sky above was a starless void, but the full moon hung high, casting its pale glow over the desolate sands.

“This the place?” Black asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” I replied. “This is where he likes to play God.”

The cathedral’s heavy wooden doors creaked open as we stepped inside. The interior was both grand and unsettling. The chandelier hung high above, its flickering candles casting long, shifting shadows across the walls. Rows of pews stretched toward the altar, flanked by statues of saints that seemed to watch our every move.

At the frontmost pew, two figures sat in stark contrast to the holy setting.

The first was a woman with dark braided hair, her face a mask of calm indifference. She wore a sharp black suit that would’ve had my approval if not for the provocative plunge of her neckline. A name tag pinned to her lapel read Desiree in neat script. Her gaze shifted toward us as we approached, cold and calculating.

Beside her was the man—or rather, the shadow—I had come to see.

Silhouette sat with the same commanding presence he always exuded, even without a discernible face. He wore a pristine black suit and a top hat tilted at an angle that was both dashing and unnerving. A polished cane rested against his knee. His form seemed to drink in the light around him, his edges blurred, as if he were more illusion than substance.

Desiree tilted her head slightly, her voice flat as she addressed him. “Master, it seems we have visitors.”

Silhouette let out a weary sigh, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I see that, Desiree. Your observational skills are as sharp as ever.”

His attention shifted to me, or at least I thought it did. It was hard to tell with someone who didn’t have eyes. “Robert, you sly dog,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “I assume he gave up my location?”

I met his shadowy gaze—or the void where his gaze might’ve been—and inclined my head. “I apologize for intruding, but we need to talk.”

Silhouette leaned back, tapping his cane lightly against the stone floor. “And here I thought we were already talking. Or have you forgotten how conversations work, Reynard?”

His tone was biting, but there was a flicker of amusement in it. He was testing me already, gauging my reaction.

“I meant a proper discussion,” I said evenly, ignoring the bait. “I have a proposition for you.”

His shadowy form shifted, his head tilting ever so slightly. “A proposition, you say? How terribly intriguing. Tell me, Reynard, what could you possibly offer me that I don’t already have?”

I took a slow step forward, keeping my posture calm and unthreatening. “Not here. Somewhere more private.”

Desiree rose from her seat, her movements fluid and precise. She didn’t speak, but her presence alone was enough to set Black on edge.

“Private, he says,” Silhouette mused, rising to his feet. His form seemed to stretch unnaturally, his shadow pooling across the floor. “That’s funny, considering this as the most private setting we could ask for.”

Desiree vanished in a blur of motion, her speed astonishing even by enhanced standards. The metallic whip she drew hissed through the air with deadly precision as she reappeared a few dozen meters ahead of me, her eyes sharp and calculating.

And then… Black’s aura flared. A faint shimmer of malevolence surrounded him as he summoned his imps with a somber tone, their grotesque forms materializing in a flash of crimson light. The imps swarmed toward Desiree, their clawed hands reaching for her.

The clash was brief but telling.

Her whip lashed out, slicing through the imps like paper, disintegrating them into bursts of smoke and ash. But as the whip continued its arc, it began to corrode. The once-pristine metal dulled, flaked, and crumbled into a rusty, useless toy by the time it completed its motion.

Desiree scowled, tossing the ruined weapon aside as if it were garbage. Her gaze shifted to Black, her contempt evident. Without missing a beat, she extended her hand, and a new whip formed from her aura—a pinkish, ethereal construct that pulsed with energy.

Black chuckled softly, unfazed by her glare. “How about we take this outside?” he suggested, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of challenge. “Let the adults talk.”

Desiree didn’t respond verbally, but her grunt of acknowledgment was enough. She cracked the aura whip once, the sound reverberating through the cathedral like a gunshot.

Black took it as a cue. He summoned Abraxas, a towering devil with obsidian skin and glowing red eyes. The air around the demon shimmered with heat, and in a low, guttural voice, it spoke an incantation. A moment later, both Black and Desiree vanished, teleported outside the cathedral.

The tension in the room shifted as the two combatants left. Now, it was just Silhouette and me.

He stood from the pew with deliberate slowness, his movements fluid and unhurried. His shadowy form stretched unnaturally as he walked to the center of the cathedral, his cane tapping lightly against the stone floor. He stopped a few paces away from me, directly opposing me in every sense of the word.

“You want to make a deal,” Silhouette said, his voice laced with disdain. He tilted his head, the movement exaggerated and almost mocking. “Do you have any idea how many fools have come to me with ‘deals,’ Reynard? What makes yours worth my time?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Because I know what you value, and I can give it to you.”

Silhouette scoffed, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. “Bold words. Let’s see if they’re as empty as the promises of all those who came before you.”

I tilted my head, keeping my tone casual but pointed. "Prove a promise, huh? That’s an interesting way to phrase it. Care to elaborate, or are we already playing your game?"

Silhouette’s shadowy form rippled slightly, his cane tapping once on the stone floor. "Promises are fleeting things, Reynard. They hold no weight until tested. I’ve heard plenty in my time, and none have impressed me."

I smirked, deciding to join in on his theatrics. If he wanted a performance, I’d give him one. After all, he was the Extreme Trickster, and Tricksters thrived on dramatics. His aura would undoubtedly be otherworldly, a chaotic masterpiece of misdirection and deceit. But two could play at this game.

"Let me guess," I began, spreading my hands wide. "The others who came to you… they made promises, didn’t they? Big, grand promises about what they could do, what they could offer."

Silhouette tilted his head slightly, his shadowy face inscrutable, but I caught the faintest flicker of interest.

"Take Robert, for example," I continued, my voice steady. "I bet he waltzed into this very cathedral with a demand and asked for your price. No doubt the same went for the others. They probably didn’t even realize what they were doing—offering you their so-called promises without understanding they’d already named their price."

Silhouette chuckled softly, the sound low and amused. "You think you’ve figured me out, Reynard?"

I let my smirk widen, raising my aura just slightly. The shift was subtle but deliberate, the weight of my presence filling the room. My [Soul] build hummed to life, a controlled yet unmistakable display of power.

"I don’t make promises," I said, my voice carrying a sharp edge. "I make deals. And unlike the others, I don’t get tricked—I deal."

Silhouette’s laughter erupted fully this time, a rich, echoing sound that filled the cathedral. He tapped his cane on the floor again, the sharp clack reverberating through the space.

"Ah, now this is interesting," he said, his tone almost gleeful. "You’re either very clever or very foolish, Reynard. Perhaps both."

I schooled my expression, even as my mind worked to calculate my next move.

Silhouette’s laughter echoed through the cathedral, an unsettling sound that seemed to vibrate through the very stone walls. His shadow rippled and expanded, writhing like a living entity beneath the flickering chandelier light. He leaned forward slightly, the top hat casting a deeper shadow over his already featureless face.

"You truly amuse me, Reynard," he said, his voice smooth but edged with mockery. "What kind of deal is this? Bold, ambitious, almost naive in its simplicity."

I stood my ground, arms crossed. "Bold? Maybe. But naive? Hardly. You wanted a deal, so I laid it out plainly. Or are you not as interested in deals as you claim?"

Silhouette chuckled again, shaking his head. "Oh, I’m interested. But tell me—what right do you have to dictate terms to me? The Extreme Trickster, one of the Seven Extremes?"

With that, he slammed his cane against the stone floor once, then again. The sound echoed like a thunderclap, and his shadow began to boil and churn violently. Tendrils of darkness spiraled out, curling around the pews and snuffing out the light of the candles one by one. The air grew colder, the weight of his aura pressing down on me like a storm.

I stayed calm, letting my own aura rise to meet his, pushing back against the suffocating presence. My [Soul] build hummed with energy, a steady beacon against the encroaching darkness.

"You’re right," I said evenly, holding his gaze—or at least where his gaze would be if he had visible eyes. "I’m not here to make demands. I’m here to offer an opportunity. You can mock it, reject it, or even try to fight me over it. But you and I both know that what I’m proposing is worth considering."

Silhouette tilted his head, his shadowy form seeming to loom even larger. "An opportunity, you say? To what end? Your little organization is nothing but a fledgling idea. And yet you expect me to relinquish my title, my assets, my legacy to you?"

"Not to me," I corrected. "To the cause. To something greater than any one of us. You think I don’t know how much power you hold? I do. And I’m not here to take it from you—I’m here to make it mean something."

His shadow lashed out suddenly, a whip-like tendril of darkness slamming into the floor just inches from my feet. The impact sent a crack spiderwebbing across the stone, but I didn’t flinch.

"Enough words," Silhouette growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "If you truly believe you can dictate terms to me, then prove it. Show me why you deserve to stand here and make such demands."

I sighed inwardly. I’d hoped diplomacy might have worked, but deep down, I’d known it would come to this. Silhouette was testing me, and there was no escaping the inevitable clash.

"Fine," I said, letting my aura surge. "If it’s a fight you want, then let’s see if the Extreme Trickster can keep up."

Silhouette’s laughter returned, louder and more manic than before. His shadow erupted around him, transforming the cathedral into a swirling vortex of darkness.

"Let’s dance, Reynard," he said, his voice echoing from all directions. "Show me what you’re made of."

This would, in the end, boil into a fight. I knew that much. But it wouldn’t hurt to try the diplomatic approach first. Silhouette had a reputation for being unpredictable, his moods swinging between jovial cooperation and outright menace. It was a gamble, but if I could appeal to his ego, perhaps…

“What kind of deal do you have in mind?” Silhouette’s voice was like velvet wrapped around a blade, smooth yet sharp. His black cane tapped rhythmically against the floor as he leaned forward, his crimson eyes glinting with curiosity and mischief.

I took a steadying breath. “Plainly put, this is what’s going to happen, step by step.”

His imaginary lips curved into a smirk, but he said nothing, inviting me to continue.

“One: you will join my budding organization.”

The smirk grew wider, revealing sharp teeth. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.

“Two: together, we will take over World Order.”

That caught his attention. His fingers tightened on the cane, and his smirk faltered for a split second before returning.

“Three: upon successfully taking over World Order, you will relinquish your assets and the title of Extreme Trickster to the organization.”

Now his amusement was palpable. He tilted his head, tapping his chin with a gloved finger as though pondering the absurdity of my proposition.

“Four: you will then act as the Chief of the organization, overseeing its operations.”

His laughter burst forth, rich and wild, echoing through the room. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t friendly either. I pushed forward.

“Five: I will decide who will inherit the position of second-in-command and the title of Extreme Trickster.”

Silhouette’s laughter abruptly ceased. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. He leaned on his cane, his shadow pooling beneath him like a living entity.

“And you think you have the right to dictate these terms?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “What, pray tell, makes you believe you can make demands of me?”

“Because I see potential in you,” I said, meeting his gaze. “You’re wasted as a lone player in a world where the rules are dictated by those who lack your… flair. Together, we could change the game entirely.”

For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he straightened, slamming his cane against the floor twice. The sound reverberated like a gavel declaring judgment.

“You amuse me,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. “But amusement isn’t enough to grant you my allegiance.”

The shadows around him began to writhe, boiling like tar. His aura surged, oppressive and suffocating, filling the room with an almost tangible weight. It was as if the darkness itself was alive, reaching out to consume everything in its path.

“Do you even understand what you’re asking for?” he snarled. “To stand in my presence and make demands… You must think yourself invincible.”

I didn’t flinch, though every instinct screamed at me to step back. Instead, I held my ground, focusing on the flicker of doubt I thought I’d seen earlier.

“I’m not invincible,” I admitted. “But neither are you. And deep down, you know that your current path leads nowhere. You’ve played the game long enough to see the patterns, the stagnation. This is your chance to do something greater.”

For a moment, he simply stared at me, his crimson eyes unblinking. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he spread his arms, the shadows swirling around him like a cloak.

“Very well,” he said, his voice dripping with theatricality. “If you truly believe you can best me, then prove it. Show me the strength behind your words.”

And just like that, the boiling shadows surged forward, a tidal wave of darkness intent on swallowing me whole. The time for diplomacy had passed. Now, it was a battle of wills—and only one of us would walk away victorious.

“Why do you have to make it hard for yourself?”