Luck charged forward, ignoring the screaming ache in his limbs and the pounding in his skull. He swung the splintered wood at the enforcer's head with everything he had left.
It missed.
Not because he misjudged the distance, but because the enforcer was already gone, his movements too fast, too practiced. He stepped to the side and slammed the flat of his blade into Luck's ribs with a force that stole the air from his lungs.
Luck's body lifted off the ground and crashed hard onto the stone floor. Pain exploded through his chest. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even scream.
The Blackstrain had burned out. The fire that had once fueled him was gone, leaving behind an empty shell. His limbs felt like they were filled with lead. His vision blurred. Every heartbeat echoed like a drum inside his skull.
The enforcer stood over him, unmoving, the tip of his sword pointed directly at Luck's chest.
"You're finished," the enforcer said, voice like cold iron.
Luck tried to speak. Blood touched the edge of his lips. He forced the words out anyway.
"Go ahead. Kill me."
The enforcer stared, silent.
Luck couldn't stand. His limbs shook, strength drained completely. Blood matted his hair, sweat stung his eyes, and the broken plank he used as a weapon lay in splinters beside him.
The enforcer's sword hovered at his chest.
Then—
"Stop."
The voice was firm, low, and clear. Rook stepped out from the shadows, his hands raised.
'Rook? But he's supposed to be looking for a exit.'
Luck knew what his precense meant, it meant that there was no exit or rather no point in escaping.
"Let the kid go," Rook said. "I'll stay."
The enforcer didn't lower the sword, but his eyes flicked toward Rook. "You think you're in any position to bargain?"
"I'm not bargaining," Rook replied calmly. "I'm surrendering. But him, he's just a kid that I dragged along with me. Let him go and if you don't I promise I might not be able to kill you but I will cripple you."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a worn leather pouch—the one filled with stolen relics, smuggled scrolls, and a single vial that still hummed faintly with mana. He walked forward slowly, crouched beside Luck, and pressed the pouch into his hands.
"You run," Rook whispered. "You don't look back. Not until you're strong enough to make your own future."
Luck's lip trembled. "No. No, I can still fight. We can still—"
"I said run," Rook said, firmer this time. "You hear me? You keep going, Luck."
The enforcer stepped forward, blade still drawn. His expression unreadable behind the cracked mask.
"This is for what we were as brothers, for what you were, for what you stood for. This is the final act I do for you." he said.
Then he raised his sword.
Luck's body buckled.
The surge from the Blackstrain shattered all at once, like glass collapsing under pressure. His strength drained in an instant—his muscles locking, then seizing. Bones screamed beneath his skin. His breath came ragged, wet. He staggered, catching himself against the wall, but the pain kept coming.
His curses rushed back in, roaring like a flood. His vision, already flickering, went black entirely. The faint traces of mana he'd been feeling moments ago vanished, like smoke blown away by wind.
The sound was clean. Final.
Rook didn't cry out.
Luck felt something warm splash across his cheek. He didn't need to see it to know what it was.
His limbs trembled, useless. His heart thundered, but his body betrayed him. Every breath tasted like rust and ash. The pain—raw and unrelenting—drove deeper with each second, like his bones were crumbling from within.
The enforcer turned his gaze back to Luck.
"This place will be swarmed with investigators soon," he said, wiping the blood from his blade with eerie calm. "You don't look fit enough to move, so I'll just tell them to toss you outside."
Luck didn't answer. He couldn't. The world was dissolving into heat and darkness.
The enforcer's footsteps receded, deliberate and slow, as if mocking the silence left in Rook's wake.
Luck's fingers tightened instinctively around the pouch. He couldn't feel the texture—just the weight.
His chest rose once, shakily. Then again, shallower.
Everything hurt. But even the pain was fading now, like it, too, was abandoning him.
His knees gave out first. He didn't even realize he'd been kneeling. His shoulder slammed into the floor, but it barely registered. The sounds around him—crackling fire, distant footsteps, a door creaking shut—grew soft. Muted. Underwater.
His mind tried to form thoughts, but they came as static. Rook's face. The sound of his voice. That damn crooked smirk.
Gone.
The edges of the world curled inward, gray folding into black. He felt cold where he'd once been burning. His heart fluttered, skipped. The pouch slipped from his grasp.
Then nothing.
Just the hollow echo of his own breathing, shallow and broken, in a room that smelled of iron and smoke.
***
Thump
Luck awoke as he hit his head on the ground.
Pain throbbed through his limbs like broken glass dragged through blood. His mouth was dry. His head felt like it was full of sand and fire. Every breath scraped.
Luck stirred. His fingers twitched first, brushing against something rough—wood? No… a splintered floor. Moldy. Damp. The air was stale.
He tried to move and found he couldn't. His wrists were bound. Rope. Tight.
His vision—gone again. The faint aura of mana he'd become used to sensing? Gone too.
Blackstrain had done its job. And taken its toll.
Somewhere nearby, he heard voices. Not kind ones. Gruff. Slurred. Laughing.
"…kid's still breathing. That's something."
"Think he's blessed? Could fetch more coin if he is."
"Doesn't matter. He's intact. That's enough."
A door creaked open. A wave of cooler air brushed his skin. Someone grabbed him by the arm and dragged him upright. His head lolled forward, neck too weak to hold it up.
Boots stomped. Chains rattled. Luck's mind tried to catch up, but everything was fog and fire.
Where was Rook?
The weight of the pouch was gone.
Of course it was.
One of the voices leaned in close. Breath rank with ale and smoke. "Welcome back, runt. You've just been upgraded… to property."
And then the door slammed shut again.