Source & Soul: A Deckbuilding LitRPG

I sat and stared at the card I held. Ever since I'd earned the elevation at the end of my match against Xemris I'd kept it in hand. I just needed to keep touching it, running my fingers across its brilliant edges and its slick surface. Did it feel different than it had before? Heavier? More charged? I could have sworn it did. It might not have been the first Legendary I ever held, but this one was different somehow. More meaningful.

It hadn't been my first card – that honor went to the Hateful Hammer, which I still loved – but it had been my first Nether. The first one that sang to my soul. I hadn't even earned it; I'd stolen the card from that black market card dealer and burned down his shop in the bargain. Holding it now, I knew I'd do it all over again if given the chance. The Sucking Void had kept me alive dozens of times when I should have died. The fact that my name was now blazoned on the card's front only cemented the pride and ownership I felt. This one would stay with me forever. Yes, I'd gotten Orghast from the demon princess, and in certain situations I'd probably want to run that as my Legendary instead, but this was the card that I'd keep even if I ended up a pauper and had to sell everything else. I chuckled at the thought of somehow losing it all and coughing out my lungs in an alley just like old Behar Toulon, the dying, washed-up duelist I'd gotten my first trade-bait card from. Whatever gutter rat got my last card wouldn't have to struggle nearly as hard as I had; they'd have a Legendary to trade with.

"It's not going to start talking to you no matter how long you stare," a flat voice behind me said.

I sighed, tucked away the card, and turned to face Afi. I'd been avoiding her and she'd been avoiding me, but the conversation needed to be had. "Listen, Afi–"

"No, you listen, asshole." Her face was hard, her lips compressed. "I know I don't own you, and just because we've kissed a few times doesn't make us betrothed or anything, but that was still a shitty thing to do."

I could still feel Xemris's lips against my own, the tang of her blood in my mouth. A crazy part of me wanted to tell Afi that, to make her so mad that she'd never speak to me again. That'd be easier, wouldn't it? I didn't know anything about how to take care of a woman, especially not a brave, loyal one like this. Better to disappoint her early and get it over with.

Problem was, the rest of me thought that was a terrible way to go. I really liked Afi. No, you coward, don't hedge the fact. You love her. You said it and you meant it. I wanted to have her around. I wanted to see what became of us together. So I swallowed both my anger and my desire to get away from the conversation and said, "Yes, it was shitty. I know."

Her eye twitched and she paused, peering at me suspiciously. She hadn't expected me to admit it. "And?"

I took in a deep breath, found my mind blank, and let it out as a sigh. "I dunno, Afi. She kissed me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Not kiss her back!" she snapped. "Not look like you were trying to eat her face and take her to bed literally in front of the gods and everybody."

I wanted so badly to explain that my response to Xemris wasn't something I could control, that it was literally in my blood to be uncontrollably attracted to her, but even as dumb as I was, I was still smart enough not to admit that out loud to the woman who had laid claim to my heart. There was just no good end to that conversation. "Heat of the moment, I guess. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to do it, and I didn't mean to embarrass you."

She grappled with her anger. It hurt me to see that I'd hurt her, but what more could I do? "Asshole," she whispered.

"She's out of the running," I said. "Most likely neither of us will ever see her again."

"I wish–" she blurted, then stopped herself.

"Say it," I said.

"Why didn't you kill her?" She sounded ashamed of the words even as she said them.

I had to think for a long moment before I found something that was safe enough to say. "Do you really want me to kill every person who opposes us?"

"No," she grumbled. "But it might have been nice if you made an exception for her."

I took her by the hands and cut to what I was pretty sure was the heart of the matter. "Afi, I don't really care about women for the most part. You're the first for me, really. I'm not going to run after every pretty face I see."

Pain flashed across her scarred visage, and I immediately regretted how I'd said it. "You sure about that?"

"Afi–"

"Are you really sure you wouldn't rather have her than me?" she said quietly, her eyes locked on mine.

"I'm sure," I said. "I don't know what our future holds – hells, we may not be alive when this tournament ends – but I want to find out. With you."

My voice was rock steady and my hands were firm on hers. I would never, ever let her know the flicker of doubt I felt before I spoke. Some things had to die unsaid.

She still looked angry and dissatisfied, but she nodded. "I guess it's hardly worth worrying about until after this is over."

"Worth worrying about, sure," I replied. "Just not something we can do much about until then."

We turned to watch the match between my mother and the Primarch, which had already started down below. If she stood a little farther away from me than she had before, well… I supposed it was no less than I deserved.

I could already tell that this was not going to be any regular duel. Mother had shapeshifted into a small bird of some sort – I hadn't been watching to see the card that went with it – and was swooping out of the way of the Primarch's heavy blows. It never would have worked if his damage was Fated, but since he was just stupidly strong in a real-world, nonmagical fashion, he could only hurt her if he could catch her.

"I will not tire," he growled, his basso voice filling my ears and vibrating in my chest. "You cannot run forever, Yveda. I have tolerated your treachery for too long, and your usefulness wanes now that I have a foothold in this realm. You will not leave this arena alive."

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In response, the tiny bird swooped in and pecked at the crown of his head between his backswept horns. I doubted her bird form did more than a single point of damage, if that, but knowing her, the point was more to annoy him than to hurt him. Quick as he was to snatch at her, she was long gone before his fingers closed on empty air.

"Defilers!" the Primarch roared. "Does this amuse you, abominations? To watch all of creation dance to your silly rules and petty games?"

"He sounds like fun," Afi said.

"I was told he wants to turn our whole world into a new Nether Realm," I said, watching him lurch back and forth after Mother down below. "He's got the whole of demonkind convinced that if he breaks all the cards the Twins made, we'll all be free of them and everything will return to the raw, unformed magic that existed before."

The silence next to me turned frosty. "And you heard this from who?" she finally said.

Twins, but I was putting my foot in the shit no matter which way I stepped. "My mother," I said. She probably knew it was a lie, but I wasn't about to bring up Xemris again.

Mother shifted back into her demon form and summoned a Soul.

"What's she doing?" I murmured. I knew her usual deck pretty well at this point, and low-value Souls like this weren't her usual fare.

The Primarch seemed to agree. "What nonsense is this?" he rumbled. He closed his fist around the Imp, which seemed no bigger than a rabbit in his massive hands. He crammed the Soul into his mouth as it screeched and scrabbled at him, doing its damage to no seeming effect before being totally consumed. The barest nimbus of gray light began to shine around him.

"Does it not bother you to destroy your own kind, Pacchus?" Mother asked idly.

He huffed, sounding offended. "That has not been my name for a thousand years, and you know it well, Spinera."

I perked up. Had that been my mother's name once upon a time? She couldn't possibly be that old. Could she?

He answered her question as he stalked her. "Whether the cards feed me or the Netherwell, such is the fate of all the abominations of the Twin Defilers." He cast a defiant glance at the glowing figures on high.

"Yes, yes," Mother said, sounding uninterested as she summoned and sent another Bog Imp to keep the Primarch away from her. "But surely it's different to send one of us back to the swirling primordial mists, isn't it? You have a card, after all. If I were to kill you now, would you want me to feed that card into the cold, uncaring Netherwell just to further an outcome you would never see?"

"You know I would," the huge demon responded, advancing relentlessly. "If I could have prevented the formation of the cursed card within me, I would have."

"And yet you declined my kind offer to take if from you, as I recall," she said idly.

"You meant to depose me, Yveda. My dedication has not made me stupid."

"Hasn't it?" she mused. She summoned a new Soul.

This one lasted no longer than the others. The glow around the Primarch grew a tiny bit brighter. Soon he'd unleash it in a blast of raw magic like I'd seen him do before. Twins, am I going to have to fight that bastard? How can anyone win against him? I hoped Mother could put an end to him… but then, if she wanted a thing, I instinctively wanted to oppose it. Scary as this 1000-Health son of a bitch was, I had more confidence in facing him than I did facing her.

"I see more diversity and beauty in the creations of the Twins than I ever saw in raw magic," Mother continued. "You've stayed close to home to nurse your grudge and lay your master plan, but there is nowhere I haven't been, Pacchus. I tell you there are wonders beyond the Nether Realm that would make a demon weep for beauty. Even a dim little imp like you."

The Primarch let out an ear-splitting shriek of rage. "Traitor! You side with the Defilers? And don't call me that name!"

"I side with myself," Mother retorted, feeding him another Ghastly Gremlin. "The Unyielding Court is my home even if you've infested it with dullards and cretins. Bathing in the Nether will always bring me challenge and joy. But what's the point if we turn every other place into a copy of it?"

Dumbfounded, the Primarch ceased his relentless forward prowl for a moment. "I did not believe it, not fully. You are entirely corrupt. Not one shred of true demonity remains in you. I name you anathema, Yveda. You are cast out!"

Mother crossed her arms and pouted. "Oh, pooh. And here I was hoping you'd cook me a nice dinner when I got back." She summoned another Soul – one I hadn't seen before – and sent it at him.

This Imp suffered the same fate as all the others, and the gray glow around the Primarch intensified, gathering around one fist, which he extended toward Mother. "Cease your mocking," he commanded. A brilliant bolt of pure magic leapt away from him.

It struck Mother full in the chest. It surprised me when I jumped a little. Why should I care if he blasted her to bits? Hadn't I just been thinking that would be best? It surprised me even more when Afi laid a comforting hand on my arm for just a second. She didn't stay there, but she'd been trying to comfort me. I shook my head, annoyed and confused. Why should I need comforting?

Mother shed a large number of cards both from hand and from her Mind Home. She straightened immediately and laughed. "Thanks. I had an itch there. Very kind of you." Another Sacrificial Imp misted into being and charged toward the Primarch.

The Primarch swept up the Soul in his hand and paused to look her in the eyes, ignoring the puny thing as it scratched at him. "Your glibness hides fear, Yveda. My raw magic will take you down, if nothing else."

As he chomped down, I heard Mother whisper, "Feast well, you old glutton."

The Sacrificial Imp burst into a cloud of pink dust that enveloped the Primarch's head. He coughed and gagged, and in the mist I saw the outline of a strange card.

"Trickster! Traitor! Bitch!" the Primarch howled.

"Compliment a girl like that and you'll get what you deserve," Mother said dryly. Then she transformed again.

With a blink and a pop, the tiny glowing dart that was now Mother disappeared from view entirely.

The Primarch frantically waved the pink dust away from himself, stumbling out of the cloud, hacking. Again and again he hawked up great gobbets of spit, letting them splatter to the ghostly stones between his feet. "No!" he raged, his voice strangled. "Not this!"

"Where did she go?" Afi asked, baffled.

"Uh…" I looked over at the enemy competitor room, seeing a sudden swirl of activity through the translucent wall. "I think she used that Flee ability and left the match."

"What?" she yelped. Turning to Rakkoden, who was observing nearby, she asked, "Can she do that?"

He looked bemused. "Generally the Great Ones do not allow such abilities in these circumstances. However, as I believe I have said, they do as they please, and it is our glory to praise them for it."

Below, the Primarch was ranting. "I have told you I wish no card elevation. Bring her back! That is the boon you can give me, you abominations. I do not wish to win like this. Don't you understand? She has infected me!"

Silence fell on our company as he stalked away. Out of nowhere, Mother had up and lost, but as always, she'd gotten away clean. I felt a deep sense of unease. Whatever had just happened, she'd wanted it. It worked in her favor. That couldn't be good.

And as the Primarch left the arena, I spied the cap of a small mushroom growing out of the scales in the middle of his back.