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Chapter 4: The Gamble of Fate
The sixteen stood scattered in the dim, mist-wreathed clearing. A faint chill crawled over their skin as shadows flickered between ancient, gnarled trees. The air was heavy, thick with anticipation—and the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic, like old blood.
One by one, the Pillars were called. When Chance echoed through the silence, an uneasy stillness took hold. Not a single soul dared step forward.
Breaking the quiet, Chester's wide grin and loud voice shattered the tension.
"Me! Choose me! Who else wants to roll the dice with me? Haha, I'm funny, unpredictable, and maybe the odds are in our favor!"
Heads swiveled, some with incredulous glances, others with thinly veiled suspicion. No one wanted to be tied to the wild chaos of Chance.
Two figures hesitated, then stepped into the clearing—Marlo and Keen. Their eyes darted warily, haunted by uncertainty.
A calm, deliberate voice cut through the murmurs.
"I'll join you." Veyna's gaze, sharp and unreadable, settled on Chester. A faint, knowing smile traced her lips—as if she'd glimpsed a rare spark beneath the foolhardy facade.
"Yaaayy! Welcome to the madness!" Chester exclaimed, raising his arms like a carnival ringmaster. Inside, a calculating smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Exactly as I planned.
Together, the four formed Valera, a fragile alliance built on necessity and unspoken questions. Each carried silent fears, their eyes reflecting the haunting knowledge: survive the Nightmare—or be swallowed whole.
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As darkness deepened, the clearing fell into eerie quiet. The only sounds were the soft rustle of leaves and the distant, guttural growls of unseen predators.
Marlo's gaze flickered toward the shifting shadows. Without warning, his form blurred, dissolving like smoke caught in a breeze. A faint whisper of wind stirred where he'd stood—an echo of the Veil Pillar's gift: Shadow Step—the power to vanish and move unseen.
Keen stepped forward, calm as a stone. Raising his hand, the air around a jagged stone thickened and slowed, like time itself hesitated.
"Binding Command," he explained softly. "A subtle control to stop small actions, restrict movement. Order's way to bend chaos."
His piercing eyes scanned the group, measuring reactions with quiet intensity.
Veyna said nothing of her own abilities, her expression a mask of serene enigma.
Chester's grin never faltered. Behind his careless act, his mind raced—calculating, scheming, waiting.
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The nightmare had begun.
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Trust no one.
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