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Chapter 92: A Great Harvest
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 16:01:51 +0000 UTCRussell's fingers brushed against the two items Blake extended, the weight of them grounding him amid the auditorium's fading echoes. The notebook was thick, its leather cover worn smooth from years of handling, bold characters etched across the front: "Experiences in Making Underworld Cards." Beside it, a hefty envelope, sealed with a subtle wax emblem that hummed faintly with latent energy.
"This is..." Russell's voice caught, a rush of awe tightening his throat. He recognized it instantly—a personal grimoire, Blake's own insights into crafting his signature underworld cards, distilled from decades of mastery. The pages promised secrets that could reshape his path. "Teacher, this is invaluable. I don't know if I deserve it."
Blake's weathered face softened into a gentle smile, eyes crinkling with quiet wisdom. "I caught your matches on the way here, kid. Your style's a wild card—nothing like mine, and that's a strength." He'd seen the footage, Russell's eclectic summons dancing across the arena like untamed forces. Unlike his other disciples, this boy's potential burned brighter, unbound by rigid paths. So Blake had kept the notebook broad—sketches of concepts, warnings on pitfalls, but no ironclad blueprints. No need to clip those wings yet. "Use it as a spark, not a chain. When your well runs dry someday, we'll dig deeper."
Russell tucked the notebook away with reverent care, its edges pressing into his palm like a promise. Now wasn't the moment to dive in; the words would wait for a quiet night, perhaps under a dim lamp in some rented room, where he could envision forging his next card—blending Blake's underworld echoes with his own chaotic flair, birthing something fierce enough to stand against the demon tides. The thought sent a thrill through him, a glimpse of the warrior he'd become. Shaking off the vision, he tore open the envelope without pause. Inside gleamed several materials, their silver-level auras pulsing like restrained storms—raw power that made the air around them thrum faintly.
Blake chuckled at Russell's wide-eyed stare. "Enough there to craft a solid card once you hit silver rank. I'm heading back to the coastal defenses after today—been stuck in New Metro too long, inspecting every shadow." His voice lightened, but Russell caught the undercurrent of duty, the invisible burdens the old master carried. "Call this my way of making up for the time I'll miss teaching you hands-on."
Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken gratitude. Compensation? Blake owed him nothing—Russell knew that bone-deep. In his old life, he'd witnessed mentors who drained their students dry, claiming glory while offering scraps. But this? It screamed genuine care, a true passing of the torch. Even if he'd chosen Frank, the divide would've yawned the same—Blake chained to the coasts, Frank to the frozen north. No easy roads here.
"Thank you, Teacher," Russell managed, his voice rough around the edges, emotion clawing up unexpected.
Blake clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, the touch steady and reassuring. "You're young, Russell—road's long and twisting ahead. Us old timers? We shoulder the storms so you can grow." A wry smile tugged at his lips, lightening the mood. "But don't make it sound like I'm marching to my grave. Got questions? Ring me anytime. I'm not vanishing into the ether."
Russell nodded, the knot in his chest easing just a fraction.
"Alright, get some rest. I've got an old friend to check on—debts from battles long past."
Russell watched Blake stride away, his silhouette cutting through the thinning crowd like a fading guardian. The auditorium's buzz dimmed to a distant hum, leaving him alone with his thoughts. But solitude shattered as Nancy and the crew from New Metro First High swarmed him, eyes alight with curiosity. Their train back home loomed; this was their final day in Northgate. They'd hovered on the edges during the university frenzy, witnessing the whirlwind of reps and Blake's quiet arrival.
Nancy leaned in first, her gaze sparkling with barely contained excitement. "Russell, that was Director Blake, wasn't it? Spill—what'd he say?" In the coastal fringes, Blake was more than a name; he was a legend, a shield against the encroaching dark.
Russell kept it vague, guarding the sensitive details of Blake's coastal tour. "He took me on as his disciple. Just shared some guidance, nothing major."
The group froze, processing. Teacher? Then it clicked. Liam's voice cracked with envy-tinged awe. "Wait—you mean Master Blake? As in, your personal mentor?"
Russell gave a quiet nod.
Pandemonium erupted—gasps, wide grins, a chorus of "No way!" and backslaps. Envy burned bright in their eyes, but so did pride; Russell's feats in the exams had earned this spotlight.
Nancy tilted her head, piecing together the puzzle. "Hold up—who was that other guy chatting with him? Looked intense."
Russell shot her a half-amused look. "That 'guy'? Master Frank Dragomir."
The air sucked out of the group like a vacuum, breaths hitching in unison. Frank's exploits were northern lore, whispers in New Metro's coastal haze—they knew the name, not the face. "Master Frank? Here?" Liam blurted, voice pitching high. "What for?"
"He offered the same deal—if I picked Kirin University, he'd mentor me too."
Question marks practically floated over their heads, disbelief warring with the absurdity. Two titans of the cardmaking world, dueling for him? If it'd come from anyone else, it'd earn a scoff or worse. But Russell? It tracked.
He cut off the barrage before it snowballed. "Anyway, I'm not heading back with you. Teacher's pulling strings—I'm enrolling at Northgate mid-semester." December's chill hung in the air, New Year creeping close, winter break on the horizon. February start, he figured. No family ties binding him, no reason to trek back to New Metro. Northgate would be his new anchor, holidays be damned.
Turning to Victoria Song, he added, "Ms. Song, mind looping in the school for me?"
She nodded briskly. "Consider it done."
Nancy sighed, a wistful edge to it, like the end of an era. "Guess this is it, then. Feels weird without you around."
Russell shrugged, masking the faint tug of nostalgia. "Don't get all mopey. Northgate's a stone's throw from New Metro. And you've got finals in six months—plenty of chances to cross paths."
That lifted the mood, smiles breaking through. "See you around, Russell." "Yeah, don't forget us little people."
At the hotel's bustling entrance, Russell stood as the bus pulled away, carrying his classmates into the distance. The engine's rumble faded, leaving him in the city's pulse—honking horns, distant chatter, the crisp bite of winter wind. "Everyone's gone," he murmured to himself. "Time to handle the real grind."
First up: ditching the hotel life. Rent a place in Northgate—nothing fancy, just a solid base. The six million from the contract had hit his account like a lifeline; no more scraping by.
Second, and sharper in his mind: the Spirit Begging Society's mid-competition "gift" of materials. Loose ends like that nagged at him. With breathing room now, he'd track down Misty, probe if they had a genuine task brewing. And while he was at it? Drop the news of his Northgate choice—maybe squeeze out extra perks. Opportunities like that didn't knock twice.
(End of this chapter)
Comments
Raphael Espinoza Angulo
I feel like his "Harem" is missing 1 or 2 girls from his world. On the other hand, let's see what the university arch brings.
