Chapter 48: Running Out of Time

Here we go again.

“This part of the System is strange,” Merril said as he took stock of everything, finally watching the giant cards as they slowly rotated around the platform.

“I have to select the cards,” Sammy said flatly, feeling emotionally drained and facing another terrifying set of random choices. “But you can either pick or let me-”

He pointed at a card and said, “That one. Let’s get this over with if it's all random.”

Sammy stared at him a moment but selected the card, which lit up and moved into position in front of them.

Hearing it again, it didn’t explicitly say random… but it must be with this big farce of an ordeal. This whole thing is a perversion of the tarot… like a clueless version designed by a marketing team that knew nothing about the subject. Bastardized, soulless extraction. Spectacle.

It still bugged her though. Missing information. Why did she have the special title? Just another dumb marketing thing?

Merril looked around and pointed again. “That one.” Another card flowed next to the other. One last time he looked around, then pointed. “And that one.”

“Past, Present, and Future have been selected and locked in.

“You may flip the card in the Past position when ready. Note that the Fortuneteller will see the past life flash through their mind, though they are kept removed directly and cannot acquire skills or mental complexes. Note also that rotation is irreversible once begun.”

“Wait,” Merril said, “which way does it flip? Does it matter?”

“It does… upside down is bad, upright is good. Simplified shit for us dumb users. Or the System’s own warped sense of our satisfaction, yeah? The coin flip, heads or tails… when it comes down and you lose, you can’t complain except about your luck. If everything is wishy-washy and you get fucked over, you blame the System instead.”

“So we get to second guess ourselves. Because it can reverse depending on how it's flipped.”

Sammy only met his eyes and nodded to this.

After looking at the card back a while, Merril finally said, “Horizontal.”

After staring at the card a moment, internal gut feelings swirling, Sammy turned it.

A big yellow star, with seven white stars around it, and a naked, kneeling woman with a serene expression pouring water from two jugs, one on the ground, one in a pond. Only, the stars were at the bottom and she was upside down. The card was reversed.

“The Star Major Arcana, upside down. In a past life, you abandoned hope, living a life of spiritless decline. Please stand by for memory synthesis.”

Baitan Zhugensha was a renowned harpist known across many empires of a Bronze Age world. It was said he made Emperor Eight Stars Streaking Bright himself — a stoic man — cry tears from the beauty of his play. And it was true. He’d dedicated his life to his instrument, to the play and to the composition therein, seeking out the best to learn from and absorb, to add skill to tremendous talent and sensitivity.

But Baitan was overwhelmed by fame, fortune, and the many assorted pleasures that came with it. A flagrant sensate, he partook of every experience and gradually drowned himself in it. The harp became merely the means to an end.

This began to fail suddenly as drug use gave him nerve issues and shakes. At first, tonics and elixirs kept it at bay, as did more and more drug use. But it crept through, time after time, demanding more and more to bury it and allow him to play. Eventually, he couldn’t much at all. The harp was going to be denied to him…

At that pivotal juncture, at that realization point at the absolute rock bottom of his life, Baitan did not turn away, even then. His lifestyle had become the purpose and he could not give it up, not even for the harp. So he rode as long as he could on the coattails of his prior fame, from one rich empire to the next, wearing out his welcome bit by bit.

Ultimately, Baitan abandoned all hope, fell into despair, and died suffering, all joy deprived of him in his final days, even his drug of choice giving him not a shred of relief, no matter how much he took.

The harp and song within him had died long before.

The dreadful life and memories flashed through Sammy’s mind, even as Merril was forced to live through it, to have it seared and imprinted into his mind.

“User Merril Asthyre has acquired the special skill [Musical Expert: Harp (Grandmaster)] and the ostensibly permanent debuff [Despair]. The Past card resolution is complete.”

The look on Merril’s face after was that of terror, disgust, and disbelief… but there was no violent reaction. He swayed backward, bumping into the forcefield, then slid down to his rump. His eyes were far away as he shook his head.

Damn it… Damn this. I shouldn’t have done this… I can’t blame the System for it, either.

“This is just what I am, isn’t it?” Merril mused with a voice very unlike him, withdrawn and morose. “Reality’s fucking whipping boy. From one life to the next, cursed and miserable. A shadow so others shine. To hell with all of them, to hell with the System!”

“Merril,” Sammy said, walking over and crouching next to him, drawing his eyes. “It’s just one life. It showed you a bad one. You’ve had good ones… you aren’t cursed. And you can beat this, I know you can.”

Merril eyed her, then coughed a bitter laugh, bolting himself up and pointing at the next card. Thumping the forcefield audibly. “Let’s see, then! The next fucking card! Turn it! Turn it to the side and we’ll know!”

Sammy stood and took a deep breath, staring at him, then the card back. Positive thoughts, come on… trust the balance of things… trust his choice…

She turned the card over.

A man on a hill with a staff in his hands, fighting and fending off a clutch of other staffs from unseen foes — he’s standing his ground, beating them back…

Only, the card was not upright.

“What?!”

“Seven of Wands, upside down. In this hour, you fail to hold your ground, will avoid conflict, and run away from your problems. You will be under a [Fear] effect, and must flee or hide.”

Sammy couldn’t believe her eyes as she stood there, stunned. It felt wrong, like a betrayal of fate. The coldness of reality spitting out some lackluster anticlimax, defeating the entire purpose of them being there.

Merril laughed in some cross between supreme bitterness and hysteria, holding a hand up like, ‘See?’ Gradually, his face hardened though. Turned into a snarl. “No! I refuse to accept that. I defy you, System! I’ve never backed down from a single fucking thing! I took every lick like a man! I took beatings and mockery and hatred and spat right in their faces daring them their worst! I run from nothing!”

“Merril…”

“Don’t say anything! Please. Just… get this over with. We’ve failed already. Let’s see what the next curse I have to live with is. Turn it! Seal my fate!”

Sammy walked up beside him and gazed at the card back. She felt tremendous dread.

How many times have I seen this fuck up, now? Let it play out how they choose. But here, what are the odds he’d get three upside down? He’d be proven true. Here he is, predicting it himself. Expecting it.

Sammy’s eyes shifted over to him, scowling up at the card — like he was, as he said, daring the worst. Endless self-destruction, and somehow he’d survived to stand in that spot and demand it again.

“Turn it, Samantha!”

Sammy squeezed her eyes shut. I have to live with it either way. I can choose to take the responsibility. I can put it on my shoulders… I can search myself and feel and intuit… the price has already been paid…

“Turn it, damn you!”

Opening her eyes, Samantha took the card and flipped it vertically.

An armored, skeletal figure riding a white horse, holding a black flag with a white flower. Underneath, a king lies dead, crown cast aside; a woman turns away in sadness; a priest receives him amiably, ready; a child blissfully presents flowers. In the distance, dawn rises.

The card was Death, and this was clear instantly to both of them.

The card was upright.

“Death Major Arcana, upright. In an indeterminate future, you will face the gravest of setbacks, but from the ashes of doom, you will arise stronger. Effects hidden until relevant.”

Sammy’s faux heart was beating a mile a minute, and the relief she felt at what she’d just done washed through her.

I couldn’t let it… somehow, I knew… I knew and it was too important not to change. But she had no answer for how or why, nor how to carry it forward. Could she simply get all good results? That didn’t sound right, either.

Merril looked soberly from the card back to her, saying nothing. He knew exactly what she’d done.

“Thank you for using the System Deck, users. Hopefully, you enjoy the challenges and rewards that have been and will be integrated into your current existence.”

Samantha put her hand on the feline’s shoulder. “Merril, things will work out. Things go to shit, we feel cursed, we even get cursed, sure… but there’s always a new dawn to rise to. Yours is coming. And I’ll be there with you, to get you through what’s between and see the greatness that lies ahead. You’ll find a pride you didn’t think you’d ever feel, and everyone else will feel it too. I know it.”

Merril’s eyes had soon cast away, as her words were something he couldn’t absorb right then. But perhaps they would, one day.

I have to change too. I have to embrace this role. But-

“Stand by for psyche re-transmission.”

Abruptly, they were back in the cavern, Dax fending off and frustrating the pursuing Thadeus with her evasiveness, Carlisle, Bob, Estara, and the tattered remainders of the soldiers surrounded by imps, all of them trying to deal the next attrition first… and then Merril…

Immediately Sammy felt the baleful curse settling over him like a smothering blanket. She felt terror stir in the pit of him, overwhelming fear at all he was seeing, saturating his every fiber it seemed, gripping his entire body in a way his mind had no possible chance to fight. He intuitively pushed Sammy away then, even as he screamed, pissed himself, and ran away, tossing his weapons down so he could sprint faster.

There was nothing she could do, but such was his possession at avoidance, it didn’t seem like any had much chance at stopping him. Those hyenas that saw him only made passing tries out of instinct, all of them wounded, and he deftly outmaneuvered them.

Dax heard his cry, could only spare a worried glance and puzzlement, stuck in her own mortal danger. Sammy also just realized that Dax’s maneuvers were beginning to threaten the illusion’s radius…

“Dax!” Sammy sent urgently, “You have to angle back! My illusions!”

“What happened to-”

“A curse — he’s running away! He’ll be safe, even if the rest of us aren’t.”

Dax did not have the luxury of curiosity, though she was disturbed by the news.

Carlisle kept casting his eyes Dax and Thadeus’s way. He maneuvered his way to finally disengage with the imps, calling, “Hold them down!” Much the same as Thadeus had done, he pulled away and angled back to his target foe, his eyes determined.

“Tell Dax to lead the bastard back to me, Your Majesty.”

Sammy did so, and Dax made the effort, but Thadeus had other plans. One of his many feints Dax had been reading efficiently was finally subtle enough to throw her off balance. What was a feint became a step-in — Somehow Sammy knew he had her from the flow of the dance, from the sense in Dax that she had fucked up…

So Sammy pulled something she’d had in her back pocket, one last, perhaps (by then) unexpected trick… especially with his guard likely down, being so laser-focused as he was. He could see through her illusions, but-

The loudest air horn she could dream up blew right in his ear.

Thadeus yelped as he jerked away from it, utterly not expecting it and throwing his whole carefully cultivated combat maneuver totally. Dax recovered from her faltering. Behind her, an imp was threatening, but a thrown dagger caught him right in the eye.

Mekias. The old scout probably had more kills than anyone else present, skulking around with his ranged expertise like an assassin.

In a rage, cursing virulently, Thadeus charged Dax, swinging his flaming blade yet again in a fantastic arc, tired of the dance and the game. The rogue knight backpedaled and led the strike itself right to Carlisle.

The blade came down once more, harder and more furious than ever, right onto the shield with a sound almost like a gong… but the energy was swallowed. As Carlisle knocked the blade aside, all noticed the shield had seemed to dim in its glow.

Thadeus perceived this as a weakness and moved in to strike again and press his advantage. But as he did, Carlisle pushed forward, rushing him with the shield like a madman.

It was then he spoke with a virulent cry, “Akteh Tor Zekein!” At the last syllable, the shield veritably exploded outward with a terrible force, a deafening explosion everyone present felt in their very bones… that jarred and stunned the whole cavern… that made the stalactites threaten to fall.

But the worst of it sprayed out on the traitor Thadeus in a torrential cone of energy, fire and raw force. All of the power that had been thrown at the shield and the enchantment, absorbed and stored, then released.

If not for the aura around him, Thadeus might’ve been incinerated. Instead, he was scoured and tossed in a screaming heap, the sword knocked away to clatter on the ground and his aura banished like a vapor. Face and body scorched and smoking on the floor, he was laid out and defeated. Unconscious or dead.

The crown had been tossed off, and though it smoked, it remained all but undamaged.

The fighting had paused, and the party gave a cry of victory, Bob the loudest, perhaps having the greatest hatred for the man. The imps hesitated to continue, no doubt wondering about the point as well as their chances. For his part, Carlisle actually seemed surprised by the results, looking down at a now normal, ordinary shield.

And then the portal flared back to life.

A sigh resounded through the cavern and a voice seemed to fill it. “What a waste of energy — you try to spread the love, teach a few henchmen, but there’s no helping it, is there? If you want a job done right…”

Through the portal, the Avatar of Zadkiel stepped, a giant demon of a man with chiseled features, in gleaming bronze armor, maul over one shoulder. “... do it yourself.”

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