The moon had replaced the sun as darkness engulfed the land. It was near midnight, and through the clear sky, glimmering stars could be seen easily. It was a spectacular view.
The Ionian countryside had always been quiet and peaceful, away from civilization. There was a dense forest which, when observed from above, was like a green blanket. Wild animals prowled in the forest, big or small. The forest was lively even at night.
Somewhere in the forest was a huge barren land with no trees, a bare surface, and a rocky path. A large brick house, two floors tall, with white walls and a black rooftop, stood in the middle. Shattered glass remained in the windows. Some parts of the house were fairly rusty, as the house was a few decades old. The house was abandoned, as local villagers say, due to it being too old.
Unbeknownst to others, there is actually someone who moved into the house recently.
Because despite the house's appearance being rather old and worn down, the inside was rather clean, with apparent evidence that someone had been in the house, such as a recently used oven.
A man was sitting on a chair, his hands placed on a table along with a black hat, in the dining room with paintings on the wall. He was holding an Ionian newspaper, his eyes staring into the headline that intrigued him to read the story.
"The King of Demacia is dead"
He was, as many people call him, 'Twisted fate'.
The card master was famous for his sheer amount of natural luck, cunningness, and card-manipulating skills. He always wore the same outfit, with his signature black hat. He would often appear in bars all around Valoran, gamble with the locals, and leave with loads of coins in his pocket. Should anyone ever had ill intentions on him, he would have numerous tricks at his disposal to make his getaway, most notably his ability "Gate', which allowed him to teleport himself to another place by will. There is a limit of how far he can go, though.
But things had changed. After a certain incident involving a theft at the largest Piltover bank, he became a fugitive. Piltover sent the most capable of people on his trail, searching for him in the whole of Runeterra. Despite this, the Sheriff said herself that locating Twisted fate "is identical to looking for a nail in the ocean".
The abandoned house was the perfect place for him to take cover. His decision to escape to Ionia was a smart one, as no one would suspect Ionia as his hiding place. He actually came upon this house by "accident" while wandering aimlessly around, and since the house was located in a remote area, he could stay under the radar until his warrants died down. To prevent himself from being recognized, he wore a disguise whenever he left the house, going out either to buy supplies or occasionally, play card games with the locals, but prevented himself from winning too many games to avoid suspicion.
It had been roughly a year since Twisted fate moved here. He didn't know how long he would have to stay here—most people would have forgotten the Piltover incident after such a long time, but there were men and women who had sworn to never retire until they got their hands on the Card master (yes, Twisted fate had crossed paths with countless women, and unfortunately provoked most of them). He could wait, however—life here in Ionia wasn't the worst, and he somewhat enjoyed the peacefulness and quietness to a certain extent. Plus the fact that he enjoyed quite some luxury with his newfound wealth in the Piltover heist.
The King's death, as the article stated, was due to a sudden heart attack while he was sleeping that night, which proved fatal. It was unexpected, but since the King had reports of a heart problem recently, this might not be as shocking to some people. Had he not died, he might be able to rule for around three decades, for a total of more than 60 years. What a shame, he thought. Strangely, all generations of the Lightshield family had died in their 40s, either by murder or diseases, which was a bad omen for Jarvan IV, the soon-to-be King. Jarvan III was to be buried exactly one week later, as traditions hold.
He extended his hand towards a glass of whisky on the table. Pouring the wine into a glass, he gazed out of the window, watching the bright moon, enjoying the view.
Suddenly, he saw a slight movement in the distant darkness. It was near unnoticeable, but since the view had never moved before, it caught Twisted fate's attention.
Maybe it's just me seeing things.
But he had an ominous feeling in his heart—this was not a good sight.
Deciding to play safe, Twisted fate drew a card with an orange-coloured eyeball on it. He channeled his mana, his head lowering down, his eyes closed. A moment later the card started to glow, slowly brightening up. A clear image formed in his brain.
The card master smirked.
One distinctive ability of the man was being able to watch someone from a very long distance. Whenever Twisted fate channeled this spell (called "Destiny"), an invisible eye would form above a person's head, and those "eyes" were like windows that he could see from. It was a handy tool, as he could easily plan ahead for his actions, for he had sight of every person far away. People did not realize themselves being watched, which was another advantage for him.
In his mind, an image was forming, becoming clearer in seconds. If there was an image, it meant that a living person was in the area. Which meant that the movements outside were those of a human being.
Someone was paying the gypsy a visit.
Twisted fate was in shock.
So far, he had never seen any human step near the vicinity of his house. He had lived in this house in harmony, with no one bothering him. Despite not having any company, he'd rather reduce his chances of meeting bloodthirsty, knife-wielding bounty hunters.
Wasn't he in a place where no one could find him? Who, out of all people, could be good enough to locate him out of the many places of Runeterra? He was in Ionia, a very distant island away from Valoran, the main island where most nations were situated, such as Demacia and Piltover. Theoretically, Ionia shouldn't be a suspected place for the gypsy's whereabouts, as there were little to no sightings of him on the lone island. And true, Twisted fate didn't visit Ionia often, because he wasn't a fan of the peaceful nation who had no banks sufficiently large in scale for him.
He looked more intently at the image. There was a man wearing a black coat, carrying a red backpack. He has white hair and multiple wrinkles on his face, so Twisted fate guessed he was an old man. His skin was silver—no, his whole body was covered in metal. There was a red skull tattoo at his back, which startled the gypsy for a split second. He immediately recognized the symbol—it belonged to a mysterious group of men, whom people call "the mage hunters". They were rarely seen in action, but everyone knew what they did—they were ruthless bounty hunters specialized in capturing magic-users. There were many rumors circulating the men-one being the ability to detect an individual if they used any mana.
Wait. I am using mana in channeling this very spell.
"Ah, so you have finally become aware of us setting you up, isn't it, my friend?" The man finally spoke, his head now facing the "eye". He was grinning wickedly, while a certain thing in his pocket was vibrating. "You know how long it took us to look for you? "
Not very long. A year is nothing to me.
"I am the leader of this group, and despite how old I am, I have led my men over the most difficult of journeys and captured hundreds of wanted criminals who were all headaches to deal with, just like you. But you, out of every victim of ours, had evaded us for the longest time, you know? Most of them don't even last for a day. I had to admit, finding an old fox like you is one of the most infuriating tasks I had ever done in my career. We might not even end up standing here if we weren't lucky enough to spot a mana trail in the forest."
Dammit. He had let his guard down during his stay, confidently believing that he wouldn't be followed by any person, thus forgetting to cover his tracks. As a result, he had to face his worst nightmare now.
"Unhappy that luck isn't on your side for once, is it? Well, you have a choice now. You can choose to walk out of your cowardly house now and follow us back to your rightful "home" in -Piltover, so we don't need to walk in ourselves and drag you away—mind you, it's way more painful. I have always wanted to end your life myself and add you to our collection, but right now the bounty on your head seems to be more attractive. And they kindly stated that a live one is way better than a dead one. Maybe next time, if you ever managed to get out of that freaking cell! I know you will manage that. Heck, I might even help you get out, so we can continue our little game! But you got to make your choice now, and I won't hesitate even a millisecond in killing you if you try any of your tricks."
"By the way, if you plan on using your little teleport move, let me reassure you that you will fail miserably because we have our little gadget that works wonders. Anyway, you have ten seconds to decide your future, Twisted fate. Be smart."
It was at that moment did Twisted fate finally feel fear in years. His body was trembling, and his heart beat like a madman. Chills ran through his body. It was a dilemma. Surrendering to those bounty hunters and being jailed with absolutely no freedom was no different to a death sentence. On the other hand, risking his life in fighting the experienced, merciless and proficient men outside the door didn't look like a wise decision either. Besides, they were mage hunters, so he cannot treat them as ordinary bounty hunters. He would most likely be dead if he chose not to obey.
Part of his mind told him that the man was bluffing—so far his teleportation could not be thwarted by magical means, but this time he could feel that the magic used to channel the spell Gate had disappeared, for unknown reasons. He felt like the link between him and the teleport location was jammed. Guess I underestimated those folks.
His "destiny" spell showed him that only one person was here. However, he doubted that, knowing well that the others must have hidden their presence from his spell using their own methods. They were skilled hunters, after all.
After a few more seconds of consideration, he made his choice. There would be absolutely no escape for him if he surrendered, and as a gambler, he knew to take even the slightest of chances. Better than having none at all, wasn't it?
"I'm being generous today, Mr. fate. I'm giving you five more seconds before I come in myself and stab my little handy tool into your chest."
He took out a stack of cards from his pocket, drew out three gold-coloured cards, held them with two of his fingers, and hid behind a wall corner near the door, crouching slightly. He felt mana infusing his body, power flowing to his hand.
He knew he was no match for the Mage Hunter in a one-on-one duel, but this was his house and he could use the environment to his advantage.
Brain versus brawn.
There were no longer birds standing on tree branches, foxes wandering around.
There was literally no animal near the house. It was as if they knew that a furious fight to the death was about to occur, and even the insects decided not to make any noise. There was complete silence.
Now standing in front of the door, the man waited for someone to step out, but 20 seconds have passed and so far nothing had happened.
"Well, this means I get to finish off him myself. Stupid gypsy," he sighed. "He doesn't even think properly now."
He took out a metal helmet from his bag and wore it. Then he pulled the trigger of the saw, activating it. An intimidating, terrifying sound could be heard, as he crashed it into the door. Within seconds the door broke open, smashing into the ground.
"Where are you, card master? You won't escape this time without your teleport trick. HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Fearlessly he stepped into the house. Holding the saw, he walked into the living room, ready to decimate anyone he sees. He spotted a lamp on a wooden table. On the table was a white card, with blue-coloured markings on it. The man bent over and took the card. It wrote:
Come and find me if you can, though I believe it will take more than a decade for your insensitive and non-functional eyes to even locate my shoe. It's right beside the door, by the way. Why don't we stop this and maybe I could help massage your back.
"Don't treat me like an old man! Do you know how respected I am in Valoran?" The man shouted, his voice heard within the house. "I will find you and you will be in ashes when I do!"
Somewhere in the house, a smile crept on the face of a gypsy with a black hat.
Some time had passed, and now the man was standing below the attic trapdoor, the only place unchecked. He had searched the whole house—no sign of Twisted fate.
"Soon, I shall see you face-to-face, coward."
He had fetched a wooden chair from the living room and planned to use it to help him reach the trapdoor so he could destroy it using an energy gauntlet. The man placed the chair directly underneath the trapdoor. He placed his leg on it and soon he was standing on the chair.
Correction—the old man was standing on a chair with hidden grease on the surface.
He instantly slipped and lost his balance.
The man's whole body fell off the chair and his buttocks hit hard on the hard ground. And it hurts even more due to him being an old man.
"I will break his teeth the moment I see the wicked face of his."
He stood on the remains of the chair and took out a red gauntlet from his bag. He recited a few words, as the glove started to glow, fusing with energy. He drew back his arm, then punched with full force at the metal trapdoor. The trapdoor flew upwards to the ceiling. With a great leap, he jumped onto the floor of the attic.
The attic was relatively huge, with loads of boxes piled around. It was dirty, with cobwebs on the walls and specks of dust in the air. There were windows on the rooftop as the moonlight shone into the dark room.
He saw a switch and extended his hand forward to press it. It didn't work.
This was obviously someone's doing.
"I know you're here, Twisted fate! Your tricks end now!"
He laughed hysterically for a few seconds, before activating the saw, ready to demolish anything in his sight.
"Come out before I wreck everything here!"
And so, he smashed his saw into everything in his path. A deafening sound could be heard as the crates were torn apart. Pieces of wood flew out from the saw, dropping onto the ground nearby.
Then he saw something flying in the air—a rectangular-shaped thin paper, flying towards him. He fixed his eyes on the object.
It was a poker card.
Instinctively, he grabbed his Banshee's Veil (a shield that blocks magical projectiles) which was positioned in front of his chest all along and attempted to block the card's impact.
Except the fact that it never hit. Instead, he heard an ear-piercing explosion from his back.
He felt his body flying in the air as a huge force pushed him forward, and he slammed into the wall, then fell down to the ground. He saw pieces of dynamite on the floor.
The card was not aimed at him—the crate behind him, which was secretly loaded with dynamite, was the true target. An explosion was triggered, and since the man held the shield in the wrong direction, he was badly hurt, though he could still walk. He wouldn't have been so injured if he was prepared for the blast—but this was unexpected.
"Son of a *****."
He struggled as he stood up, picking up the chainsaw and the Banshee's Veil which he dropped during the blast. His nose was bleeding, and he had a few broken bones at his ribs and backbone, but he did not care. What he wanted now was to grab Twisted fate by the neck and strangle him using his bare hands as a person squeezed a toothpaste with his fingers.
It was a mess. Wood was scattered among the ground with a fire burning on it. The room was now brighter, and he could see the whole attic as the light illuminated even the shadowy places.
Then he saw four crates left standing, stacked in a 2x2 fashion. A shadow formed behind the space of the crates, for the crates blocked the light from shining into the area. It was the corner of the attic.
And it was the last place he hadn't looked.
"Finally! Too bad, Twisted fate, that despite your hopeless attempts of hiding, you still managed to fail to escape. It's time I seal your fate, card master."
In the darkness, the hunted man was holding the three gold cards.
I've got nowhere to go now. With the element of surprise, I might fare well against this madman. It's now or never.
He glanced at the man for one last time. His muscles could be seen easily on his arms—he was a strong man. It was a petrifying thought—imagine the pain if he successfully landed a punch on the comparatively fragile card master. He was sweating, his body trembling. But he had no choice. Besides, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve just in case.
The bounty hunter saw slight movement behind the crates.
"You think I, the legendary and famed Mage Hunter, cannot see even the most obscure of movements in the dark?"
Too bad he won't see this coming.
Twisted fate proceeded to jump down from the window.
Author's note:
What's better that an opening action scene to start things off? Anyway, glad you gave this story a shot. Hope you'll enjoy the next few chapters, and do leave comments!
