Source & Soul: A Deckbuilding LitRPG

Ticosi’s body was already stiffening. He looked sightlessly at the ceiling, his mouth gaping just a little, his throat gaping far wider. Crouching next to him got the bottoms of my shoes sticky with congealing blood, but there was enough water pooled all over that I’d be able to wash them clean after. How Basil expects me to make this room any less of a disaster I don’t know. The ceiling is buckling, for Twins’ sake. Well, I’d deal with that later – first things first. I unstrung the little pouch from around the dead man’s neck and fished the Night Terror out of it. It was my mother’s card, and I wanted it back.

Would Basil let me keep it? By rights it belonged to him; he’d won it from me during our last match. All he’d be able to do was trade it away, and the thought made me sick to my stomach. The woman might be the world’s worst mother, but for some reason I still wanted to keep her things and find whatever I could about her. I wished I’d had more presence of mind to keep my demons from killing Ticosi during the fight – who knew what he could have told me? But I’d been on death’s door at the time, and in the moment I’d felt nothing but relief when they’d torn his throat out. I put the Night Terror in my pocket for now.

There was plenty more I needed to harvest from the corpse. I’d spent so many years fearing this bastard that I was almost afraid to loot him, like he’d spring back to life and bite me or something, but I steeled myself and reached into his mouth, gripping his jaw with one hand to pry it wider, trying to ignore the gore right next to my fingers. Just because I’d seen dead folk before didn’t mean I liked it.

I felt the edge of a card on his cold, slimy tongue and pulled it out as quickly as I could. What did the card of a man like him look like?

It looked pretty damn impressive, that was how it looked. Not traditionally powerful, maybe, but cunning, tricksy, and deadly, just like the man himself. What had I been thinking, taking on an Epic? Had I known that’s what he was, I might not have had the courage to turn on him. His eyes had always been so bloodshot red that I’d never noticed the ruby flecks – and before I met Basil and learned a bit about dueling, I wouldn’t have known what they meant anyway.

I’d never seen a card with so much text on it, and the powers were unique. Being able to stack your deck deeper than others without having to work at it was a boon, no question, and I could imagine the card draw being very useful if you had a thick stack of cards in the Mind Home like he did, but it was the Soulspeaking that really caught my eye. For a guy who ran the Lows with an iron fist, being able to send messages out with a Soul – like he had to me with that nasty spider – would be really useful. Not to mention conspiring with enemies unknown to kill the King. He had to have been working with the Orcs, I figured. They were the Chaos folk, and hadn’t Hestorus said something about them rumbling along the border during that fancy dinner for the top 8? I hoped a dozen giants took turns stomping on the man when the time came… but Ticosi wouldn’t be the one helping them. It galled me to have helped my father even in this indirect kind of way, but the regret was less painful than I’d thought it would be. I’d had to help Basil, I’d had to, whether the little shit appreciated it or not.

I shook my head, focusing back on the card. Can I use this? I’d have to learn to cultivate Chaos, and there was no chance under the sun such a thing was either easy or legal. Plus, I didn’t know if Basil would let me keep the card; there were probably noble-folk rules about that sort of thing. But if anybody deserved it, I did. The Big Man had been actively trying to kill me just two days before, and he’d been the one with the boot on all our necks in the Lows for a long time before that.

Firming my jaw, I stuffed the card into my pocket. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to use it – or that I’d want Ticosi in my Mind Home even if I could – but it was mine. If Basil made a stink I’d just say my demons ate him before I got to his Soul card. I wasn’t at all sure my demons could destroy a card, but maybe he wouldn’t know either. Counting on Basil not knowing is stupid. He’s too smart for his own good.

Well then, I’d just tell him the card was my price for the cleanup. I hadn’t wanted to antagonize the boy any further when he’d been here in the room, but when he’d taken the high hand and ordered me to clean his room like I was one of these Coliseum lackeys, my hand itched to slap him nearly as bad as when we’d first met. Sure, maybe I deserved a little ill treatment after what I’d done, but I still wasn’t very good at biting my tongue. One way or the other, Ticosi’s card was mine, even if Basil decided he wanted to send me to prison.

And what will you do if that’s his game? I mulled it over as I drew the cards out of Ticosi’s Mind Home from behind his ear. You going to trot off meekly to the Palace cells because little Basil says so? No, I wouldn’t. Just because I owed him a debt didn’t mean I’d let him ruin me.

The door was right there. He’d said not to leave, that he’d hunt me down if I did, but… wasn’t it the smart move? If I left now, would he really be able to find me? Would he even bother? A few days to cool off and he might decide I wasn’t worth the trouble. All I’d have to do is confirm his worst doubts about me and run.

I was squatting there in a pool of blood next to a dead man with a stack of cards in my hand, and I suddenly realized I was staring at the door like my head had gone soft. Plenty of time to worry about Basil later. Focus on the job at hand.

I flipped through the cards one by one. He’d had a full thirty in his Mind Home. For the first time I appreciated just how close Basil and I had come to dying. Only a fool would attack the Big Man, and I’d paid for it dearly. I stopped on the pair Ticosi had used against me there near the end. He’d ripped away one of my source and then my entire hand, and I hadn’t been able to clearly see the Spells that had done it.

They made for a great combo, and I saw how deftly he’d avoided giving up any of his own cards with Mind Swap by waiting until his hand was empty. I hadn’t noticed one of his Chaos source exchanging with my Nether when it happened, but I supposed I’d been busy getting beaten to a pulp by his Orcs at the time; I could forgive myself for missing the smaller details.

And there was the Spell he’d used on Basil to steal his Master Assassin, as well as my Marauder the night he’d shown up in my room.

It was a risky play, because you never knew what you’d get, but I imagined what would have happened if he’d gotten one of my Marauders during our fight instead of me having both of them, and I shuddered. It would have been the end of me and Basil both.

I pawed through the rest. He had no end of Souls, it seemed, and some of them were pretty damn fierce.

There were others too, of course, but I’d seen what they could do already. I’d seen the Half Giant in play, if only squatted on its haunches and hampered by the confines of the room, and I was glad Basil had been able to finish it off before I had to face it.

It was the Relics, though, that widened my eyes the most.

The Diadem of Ruin had been a constant thorn in my side during our fight, and I could only thank Fate that he hadn’t gotten that Armor too. All in all, it was a seriously impressive deck, and as I counted all of them at once, I could only shake my head and wonder that I had survived. The son of a bitch had had thirty cards in his Mind Home. Maybe an elder noble might have that many – if he’d dedicated his life to dueling or war, perhaps – but that many cards in the Lows? And all of them Chaos? If I were Hestorus and I knew about such a man, I’d have taken an army into the Lows and burned it all to the ground just to be rid of him. Ticosi had suggested that some of the higher nobility knew about him and allowed him to operate. The whole system was rotten.

I was about to summon my Marauders to dispose of the body when I shook my head and reached back toward him. Less than a week ago I’d been living on the street, and already I nearly missed checking his pockets. Lunacy. His pants pockets held a few coins, though nothing of great value, but his leather coat was a treasure trove. A fat purse with no less than five crowns was the first find, and in the same pocket I found a solid metal claw-style bracelet of silver. It had a curious housing with hinges on it that would sit right on top of the wrist if worn; it looked like a stone or gem could clip into it and be held securely, but it was empty now. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked valuable, so I took it. The other pocket held my Epic Revenant Lord that I’d had to turn over to him earlier in the day; I was more than happy to take that back and put it alongside the Night Terror.

I considered stripping the trenchcoat off of him. The pale patchwork leather made for a striking piece of clothing even sopping wet and soaking up blood. I’d never wear it, of course. Even thinking about it made my skin crawl. It was so much a part of Ticosi that putting it on would have felt the same as slicing off his face and wearing it as a mask. I could sell it, perhaps, but… no. Let it die with the man who made it infamous.

The corpse was rolled partially onto its side, and I pulled on a rigid arm to pull him flat. I saw a leather thong tied around his far leg and realized it was part of a sheath. Untying the thong was the work of a moment, but unbuckling his belt to unthread the top felt ickier. In the end, though, I came away with a medium-sized knife in a black leather sheath with a pearl handle. Drawing it, I saw it looked the same as the knives he’d been throwing at Basil during the fight. How many knives did this bastard carry?

Come to think of it, I didn’t see any of the knives he’d thrown on the floor anywhere, not even the one Esmi had yanked out of Basil. That was odd. I was sure they hadn’t taken it with them. Pulling the knife from its sheath, I hefted it experimentally. I knew nothing about knife throwing, but it felt pleasantly heavy and well-balanced. If I could find the rest of the set, it might be worth hanging onto them.

I tossed the handle from one hand to the other, testing the feel, and immediately froze. I was suddenly holding matching knives in both hands.

“Twins tickle me,” I muttered, dumbfounded. They were exactly the same, right down to the hammer-divots in the metal just above the handle. Moving slowly, I put one on top of the other, and they merged, becoming one. I tried to pull it out of the one hand with the other while imagining still holding onto it, and once again there were two.

“Huh,” I grunted. I took the one in my strong hand and hurled it at the bedpost. All the furniture would need replacing anyway; the force of the water had splintered most things in the room beyond repair. I missed the post and the blade thunked into the mattress with a puff of feathers. I did the same thing as before and a fresh knife duplicated itself into my hand. I could get used to this. Walking over to the bed, I saw that the first knife had disappeared. This was why Ticosi had so many knives: he had a magical Artifact that could copy itself. Very nice.

I was putting off the unpleasant bit. I steeled myself, summoned my Nether as quickly as I could, and put on my Sucking Void protection before summoning both of my Marauders. They prowled in front of me, huffing their laughing breaths as they paced.

“Eat that,” I said, pointing to the corpse. “Clothes and all. Get rid of everything. Then lick up the blood.”

One of them grinned up at me and spoke in a gravelly voice. “Finally, a bit of reward.”

“Started to think you didn’t like us,” the other chuckled.

“Save you a piece?” the first said, loping over to the body and running its talons lovingly up and down Ticosi’s flanks. “The head bits are nice.”

“No,” I said roughly. Each one took hold of one of his arms and braced themselves to pull. I turned away and heard a sickening wet sound behind me as they pulled him to pieces and began to feed. “Do it quick.”

I summoned my Ghastly Gremlins to help them and then retreated to the other room. Even a street boy wasn’t used to this kind of carnage.

With the door shut I could think a little more clearly. I’d done as Basil had asked. The demons would be done with the body in no time, and I’d dismiss them as soon as my Sucking Void expired so they couldn’t hurt me. Then I’d straighten things up as best as I could and… then what? Was I really going to sit here like a fool and wait for Basil to decide my fate? I had a fat stack of cards in hand and, now that Ticosi was dead, nobody after me any more. Harker was bouncing around out there somewhere, sure, but I felt plenty capable of handling that piggy brute now. She was small potatoes. I could do what I wanted.

But what did I want? When I thought of my father, I still felt the same murderous rage and offended righteous ire as before. Should I just try to kill him myself? I knew it was idiocy even as I thought it. Basil and I together had nearly died facing an Epic – who knew what kinds of insane power Hestorus could bring to bear as a Legendary? Yes, I’d get to stand before him and be acknowledged as one of the Top 5 later today, so long as Basil didn’t decide to have me jailed, but I was long past the childish dream of walking up and putting a knife in his eye. I wasn’t ready. I had to play the long game there.

War Camp was the right move. I’d learn from the best, face the kingdom’s enemies, and hopefully continue to improve my deck. I had some beastly good cards, but I was still a novice when it came to putting together a finely-tuned deck. I had a lot of work to do if I was ever going to be the kind of man who could take on the King and survive. And if that rankled, if waiting felt like a pale shadow of the destiny I wanted… that was just the way things were sometimes. Street boys don’t usually get what they want, even when they’re not quite street boys anymore.

And that was the truth of me now: I wasn’t a scared, angry little mouse nibbling away in the shadows, and I’d proved conclusively that I didn’t have it in me to be the scary bastard Ticosi wanted me to be. I wanted… Twins help me, I wanted to be like Basil. Not formal and snooty and silly like him, but good like him. A person who had friends. A person who had earned them. I had no illusions about being Basil’s friend at this point – I’d taken that pretty little mirror and smashed it on the stones, and neither he nor Esmi would want anything to do with me after this. But maybe there were other decent folk out there that would be willing to put up with an asshole that sometimes forgot himself and stuffed food into his pockets. Who was angry and sour most of the time. Who would club a stranger over the head at the slightest hint of offense.

Who are you kidding?

I walked back out into the front room with the full intention of marching out the door and taking my chances running for it. The second I opened it, though, the Marauders were right there, whining and clawing at me, telling me how good the meal had been with their mouths and claws slick with gore.

“Begone,” I told them all. The body was gone, the blood mostly mopped up, and my Sucking Void was about to expire anyway. The pack of demons hooted and hollered, the sound fading as they vanished into mist. Mere seconds later my starlight armor broke and my Mind Home emptied itself again. I hated that feeling.

The least I could do was take three crowns out of the purse I’d taken from Ticosi and leave them on the corner desk as payment for the card I’d told Throice that Basil’s family would foot the bill for. That didn’t entirely square the debt – Throice was expecting two champions from House Hintal to back him, and he’d only have one now – but it was as close as I could get. If I left the money, he’d be less likely to come after me.

The money was on the desk and my hand was on the doorknob when I paused. Should I leave a note? I didn’t know if that would make it better or worse. While I thought about it, I shifted whatever furniture wasn’t totally ruined back into place. He’d asked me to do that, and it wasn’t too much effort.

Half a dozen times I went to the door fully intended to leave, skip the closing ceremonies, and disappear into the city, but somehow I never quite made it. I had three separate attempts at an explanation half-scrawled onto wet paper in my untrained hand, and I still hadn’t managed to say anything useful. How did a fellow say sorry for nearly killing the only person who’d ever been kind to him? Enough time had passed for my Mind Home to refresh, so I summoned my pack of demons and bossed them about like a tyrant, making them eat the scattered wood chips from broken furniture and lick up the pools of water while I wore my Plate and the Sucking Void just for fun.

Once the room was cleaner than it had any right to be, given what had happened here, all trace of Ticosi’s death gone, everything straightened and neat if still soggy and half-broken, I dismissed my demons and paced the floor. I was dithering and I knew it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave. I sat back down at the desk and started on a fourth note. Maybe I could get the words down in a way that made sense this time.

Right then the door creaked open, and it was with a strange mix of despair and relief that I stood to face my judgment. I’d let my indecision make my decision for me. Maybe I’d meant to all along.

But it wasn’t Basil at the door.

My guts clenched. I’d judged him wrong. I thought the worst the simpering noble boy would do was deliver me to the Palace cells. But Basil had grown strong since I’d first met him, and my betrayal had changed him. He’d sent one of his Souls to deal with me instead. I pulled Nether, cursing myself bitterly for once again getting caught with a depleted Mind Home.

There was only one reason he’d send his Master Assassin.