The card slid across the table.
Still panting, Dante glanced at it. His blood ran cold.
The card bore no traditional symbol. No sword, no cup, no throne.
Just a massive eye inside an anarchic horizon.
And at the bottom, etched in ancient script : "The Architect."
Lady Baccarat jumped back.
— "No. No, this card was never in the deck. It's a dead card. A sealed artifact. It can only appear when there's a fracture…"
Lexie looked up at Dante.
— "Do you know what this is ?"
Dante, eyes locked on the card, spoke in a voice he didn't recognize as his own.
— "It's a card that obeys no rules. It doesn't play the game. It writes it."
The room changed.
A quake shook the ground, and the ceiling vanished. The walls tore apart. In their place, a massive amphitheater of black stone rose.
Columns engraved with faces crying black tears.
And at the center, an empty throne.
The Architect watches. The player becomes master. Fate becomes material. The game is table. Mistake is offering.
Dante was pulled toward the throne.
He tried to resist, but something inside him—a primal urge—pushed him forward.
He placed one hand on the throne's armrest. A flash of visions struck him.
He saw himself creating realms, bending physical laws.
Lady Baccarat collapsed to her knees, frozen in fear.
— "You're going to become a Game Master… or die trying."
Dante raised his hand.
Cards flew around him—all the cards in the game.
He could feel them, their names, their rules, their wounds.
He could change them.
An invisible menu opened in his mind.
Options, alterations. He could transform a card, erase an effect, grant a boon. He could even... rewrite the opponent.
Lexie approached cautiously.
— "Dante. Hey. Stay with us, okay ? This isn't you. This power—it's a trap. It offers you godhood, but there's always a price."
Dante turned to her.
— "What if it is me ? What if I was born to hold this role ?"
A tear slid down Lexie's temple.
— "Then don't lose yourself."
Dante raised his hand.
And declared :
— "I change the rules."
A tremor shook the arena. The throne cracked.
But before Dante could act further, a soft voice, from nowhere, whispered :
— "Not so fast, challenger. You're not alone at the table."
A second hand rested on the edge of the throne.
— "You've opened the Hidden Table. Now face me... in my own game."
The woman before Dante had no name. Or perhaps, too many. She possessed the body of Baccarat.
A cloak embroidered with ancient game rules floated around her, and in her right hand, a reversed card.
— "You're not the first to awaken the Architect," she said, her voice both young and weary. "But maybe... you'll be the last."
Dante didn't answer. He sat at the black stone table that had risen between them.
In front of each of them, a deck of mythical cards.
Lexie, still in the back, clenched her teeth. She wanted to intervene.
But Nash held her back.
— "No. This isn't a physical fight. It's a duel of wills. If he's in, he's in alone."
The Rules changed.
1. Each player may draw only 3 cards per turn.
2. Cards can alter reality, create illusions, or manipulate chance.
3. The Architect may create one temporary rule per turn.
4. If a player violates the Table's will, they are erased from the game... and from existence.
The mysterious opponent, now known as the Veiled Lady, drew her cards.
Three whispers in the void.
— "The Forger," "The Mirror Mask," "The Dealer's Pact."
Without a word, she played "The Mirror Mask"—a card with a back as smooth as a mirror.
Dante saw himself—but distorted. In the reflection, he hesitated, doubted, feared. His hands trembled. It was a vulnerable Dante, haunted by memories.
— "She's creating a version of Dante that doubts. A weakened copy. A psychic attack."
But Dante didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked.
He drew his three cards :
> — "The Silent Anvil," "The Revenant's Trick," "The Rejected Child."
He chose "The Outcast."
The card ignited. And in a swirl, a small boy appeared.
Himself, younger. At the age when he cried in silence, stomach growling, unnoticed by all. An ignored Dante.
And the little Dante turned to the mirror version… and hugged him. The mirror cracked.
— "So you're using the sadness of your new identity... You're quite the player. I'm thrilled."
The table shook.
The Veiled Lady winced. For the first time.
She drew another card :
"The Die." legendary card.
She threw a golden die on the table.
Result : 6.
She snapped her fingers. A new rule was declared.
— "From now on, each card played has two effects, one visible… and one hidden, triggered later."
But Dante didn't flinch. He drew again.
> — "The Watchdog," "The Hourglass of Judgment," "The Inverted Architect."
He frowned. Then played "The Hourglass of Judgment."
A massive hourglass appeared above the table. Its grains were memories, slowly falling, each representing a past choice.
The hourglass split the table into two realms—Lie and Truth.
— "Now it's your turn to choose where to play," Dante whispered.
The Veiled Lady paused. For the first time, she hesitated.
The throne's power was no longer hers. Something… was shifting.
She tried to play a card—"The Three-Faced Merchant"—but the hourglass rumbled. Lightning struck. The card flipped in her hand.
> — "Hidden effect triggered : Betrayal."
In a flash of light, she lost a precious card, sucked into the sands of time.
Dante stood.
— "I didn't say it earlier, but you're using your power in an original way too. It saves us a pointless fight."
— "You charm me by defeating me at my own game," she said. "Strange humility… or mockery ?"
He reached for "The Inverted Architect."
A forbidden card. It sizzled—glitched, as if it didn't fully exist, its effects changing every second.
Lexie shouted :
— "Dante… it's dangerous. That card is glitched."
— "That's why I'm playing it."
He laid it down.
And then… the entire Table flipped.
The Veiled Lady fled.
> — "You can defeat me here… but you've opened the door. And some gods hate cheating."
Silence returned.
The table no longer existed.
Dante rose, the card still warm in his hand.
The Veiled Lady—embodied through Baccarat—hadn't collapsed.
She had vanished.
In her place, a single card remained.
A simple Joker.
Lexie approached, breathless.
— "What the hell is that…? Where did she go ? Why do I feel like… I know her name now ?"
Dante didn't answer. Because he saw.
Images surged in his mind—and through some psychic link, Lexie saw them too.
FLASHBACK — MEMORY OF BACCARAT
An abandoned theater. Rain pounding outside.
A young Baccarat waited barefoot. Her hands trembled as she held an ancient artifact, a deck sealed in a black glass box.
A dying man on the stage—her twin brother. He coughed blood, staring at the ceiling.
— "They told me this artifact grants your deepest wish…" he murmured.
— "And at what cost ?" she asked, tears in her eyes.
— "You'll find out… the moment you draw the Joker."
She did so instantly.
And so the pact was sealed.
She gained the power to manipulate probabilities, to rule over games of chance, to access the Hidden Table… but lost her name and identity.
She was condemned to replay the same game for eternity, until a player dared to defeat her with a forbidden card.
> Memory faded in Baccarat's final glance toward Dante. Being possessed by the game master was too much for her body.
The JOKER card fell to the ground.
But before Dante could reach it, Ginny lunged, ravenous.
— "No ! Dante isn't ready !"
And before anyone could stop him, he devoured it.
His serpentine form coiled around the artifact and absorbed it, a blinding light bursting from within him, as if he had swallowed a god.
Then… Dante staggered.
Symbols briefly etched themselves across his skin. His breath caught.
And in a heartbeat, a strange energy awakened within him.
Not a power of brute strength. Not fire or steel.
No.
A power that rewrites the rules of battle without ever striking.
The power of the Joker — to alter the probabilities of reality within a limited radius. To make an enemy's gun jam. To make a coin always land on its edge.
Lexie stepped back, horrified.
— "You… Dante, that's not human. Whatever you absorbed… And what is that black snake ?!"
He looked at her, eyes clouded.
— "Some things are better left hidden. You know little, but I'm almost certain Baccarat, or the Veiled Lady, knew what I carry."
She tried to ask more questions, but a distant noise echoed.
The casino was collapsing. The ceiling cracked overhead.
Nash, drenched in sweat, clutching hacked files on a hard drive.
— "We're leaving. NOW."
They dashed through the corridors. Behind them, the casino crumbled, swallowed by a rupture in the very fabric of the city.
As if Baccarat's presence — and the game she guarded — was the only thing keeping the place standing.
As they crossed the final door, Dante glanced back. He had just broken the curse of all the game masters.