Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2375 The Start Of A Lore

Chapter 2375 The Start Of A Lore

Date: Unspecified Time: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Lil. Red Storm, Seed World, Trophy Section, Duel Realm, Crafting Sector, Venue: Chaos Dwarven Forge.

"Family? New family?" Biore asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he glared at the mask hiding the face of the unknown demon merchant. Then, his voice rose sharply, anger spilling over. "You want us to be a new family when you won't even show us your face or tell us your name?"

His glance hardened, turning into a full scowl, eyes blazing with hatred. He screamed, "I don't want a family! I want vengeance!" His voice cracked with raw emotion as he jabbed a finger at Dulas, practically shaking with rage.

"I want each and every one of them to feel what she's feeling right now—what I've been feeling for as long as I can remember! I want them to look at me and ask, beg me, 'Why?' Just like I've been asking them since the day I can speak!"

"Whyyyy?!" Biore's voice echoed through the colosseum as he spun on his heel, his scowl piercing into every chaos dwarf present. The younger dwarfs instinctively took a step back, their sheltered lives offered no explanation for the raw, consuming anguish Biore was feeling right now. Even Dulas flinched, moving behind Moon in fright, her face pale with unease.

Biore turned back to the unknown demon merchant, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "I don't care what you look like. I don't care what your name is. The only thing that matters to me is this—" He paused, locking eyes with the masked figure.

"Can you help me achieve what I've just asked for? If you can..." Biore took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "...I'll be your slave for the rest of my life." His words hung heavy in the air as he stared into the unknown demon merchant's eyes, as he named his price.

"I can," Wyatt said, his voice calm but probing as he locked eyes with Biore. "But are you sure that's what you really want?"

He didn't look away, letting the question linger before continuing. "I don't know your mother. I don't know if she loves you or not. But I do know enough about you to say this: she's the reason you both hate and love crafting. That's yours—it's a part of you. They might have disowned you but they can't take that away from you unless you let them."

Wyatt leaned forward slightly, his tone steady but firm. "So I'll ask you again, one last time—is that really what you want?"

Biore's frown deepened, and he fell into a contemplative silence. Wyatt's words struck something within him, pulling him into a rare moment of self-examination. For the first time in what felt like forever, his emotions stopped shouting over his reason.

In that brief stillness, clarity began to dawn. It wasn't vengeance that he wanted—it never had been. What he truly wanted was to reach the level of craftsmanship his mother had always strived for. He wanted to stand beside her, not in anger, but in shared purpose.

Listening to Wyatt's words, Biore's eyes widened with realization. His journey didn't have to be a lonely one. A smile tugged at his lips. "Sure," he said, but then, with a cheeky grin, added, "I know I've got a lot of catching up to do, but I will—and I'll climb higher. You sure you can keep up with me?"

Wyatt chuckled, his laughter rich and easy. "Hahaha! I'll hold you to that. Just don't come crying to me if I'm too fast for your pace!"

Then, turning to Dulas, who was still half-hidden behind Moon and nervously peeking at them, Wyatt extended his arms with a warm smile. "What do you say, Dulas? Want to join us too?"

"Can I? I'm not—" Dulas began, but her voice faltered, weighed down by her self-doubt.

Before she could finish, Biore stepped forward, extending his arm toward her. His expression was resolute. "Yes, you can. I'll make sure of it. So, what do you say?"

Dulas blinked, looking from Biore to Wyatt and back again, her hesitation melting into determination. "Okay!" she exclaimed, grabbing both Wyatt's and Biore's hands.

The trio exchanged glances and nodded, silently acknowledging one another's resolve. They were climbing the same peak though for entirely different reasons, united, they would reach it undeterred by the looming challenges ahead.

Standing off to the side, Moon observed them. Her arms were crossed, but her gaze was soft, thoughtful. A strange feeling stirred deep within her—a quiet certainty. This moment, and these three, would become stories retold for generations to come.

However, the crowd surrounding them didn't share her optimism. Whispers passed through the gathered onlookers, their faces marked with doubt and cynicism. From Biore's earlier rage to Dulas's visible self-doubt and the masked demon merchant's arrogant demeanor and boastful words, they couldn't help but see a doomed venture. They all thought the same thing: They'll be enslaved or dead the moment they set foot in the Duel Realm.

Earlier, many had believed unknown demon merchant's escape to be a near impossibility. But now? With the two "dead weights" he had attached to himself, the crowd was certain of his fate. In their minds, Wyatt would be caught, tortured for his crafting print, and ultimately sold as nothing more than a crafting slave along with the other two.

Wyatt, on the other hand, was more than satisfied. He had managed to recruit two of the brightest young chaos dwarfs the Ironhold family had to offer. After the scene the elder chaos dwarf had caused earlier, he'd worried he might not be able to snag even one of them. But now, he had two.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought ahead. Soon, he'd have enough for an assembly line. He was certain of it. Biore wouldn't be the only chaos dwarf seeking to leave behind his lineage and race. There were others out there—others who felt the same yearning to break free. Wyatt just had to find them.

Or perhaps, he mused, leaning back slightly and glancing at Biore and Dulas, they might find him. Once word spread of how well these two were faring—leaving not just their family but the entire race—others might follow their example.

Wyatt's eyes glinted with quiet determination. This was just the beginning.