"Or what, boss?”Sullivan's gaze snapped back to the phone, his eyes narrowing. "Not something you should know, nose poker," he growled, his tone brusque. "Get your nose off it." He paused, collecting himself, before continuing in a calmer tone, "Make sure you keep your eyes, ears, and nose open to perceive and see and hear anything." With that, he ended the call. The guards remained silent, their eyes fixed ahead like statues, as Sullivan sat back, his mind whirring with the possibilities. He knew that this turn of events could either solidify his power or bring about unforeseen chaos, and he was determined to stay one step ahead.As Sullivan pondered his next move, the atmosphere in the golden room grew increasingly tense, the air thickening. The president's son was a master manipulator, and the pieces on his chessboard were shifting rapidly, like pawns in a high-stakes game. He had to act swiftly and decisively to maintain his advantage, to stay one step ahead of the players.
Meanwhile, back at the Major Arcana wards, Sultan had jerked and convulsed for what seemed like an eternity, struggling against the magical chains that held him captive. Finally, the hermit raised the staff used to cage Sultan within the circle, releasing him from his mystical bonds. Sultan's body went rigid, his muscles locking into place as the invisible chains fell away, and the bindings over his eyes dissolved. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless except for his ragged breathing, his chest rising and falling in a slow, labored rhythm. The figures in their positions watched him intently, their eyes fixed on his prone form. The Magician exhaled deeply, as if breathing on Sultan's behalf, his eyes gleaming with a knowing light. "As we shall see," he murmured, his voice low and enigmatic. The Hermit spoke, his voice dripping with a hint of disdain, "If Sultan dies, it is not Death that is to be blamed; it is his weakness." The Magician replied, his tone skeptical, "Really? When h
In the depths of a foreboding abyss, Sultan stumbled, his vision blurring like a fading ember. His heart raced with a terror that threatened to consume him whole. The darkness surrounding him was palpable, a living entity that suffocated him with its crushing grip. The faint, eerie glow cast an unholy light on his face, illuminating the anguish etched on his features.The chains that bound him glimmered with a malevolent light, their cold, unyielding links digging into his flesh like icy fingers. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a desperate plea for escape from the clutches of the abyss. And then, a presence emerged from the void, its face shrouded in shadows that seemed to writhe like living darkness."I am Death," it whispered, its voice a haunting echo that resonated through Sultan's very soul. Panic surged through him like a raging torrent, threatening to engulf him in its depths. His instincts screamed at him to flee, but the chains held him fast, unyielding and merc
Death's figure wavered, the white haze around him thickening and swirling. Sultan’s heart pounded as he awaited Death's reaction, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Death’s grip on the scissors loosened slightly. "Grand Uncle?" Death's voice echoed with a mix of curiosity and recognition. Sultan, grasping at the faintest glimmer of hope, continued, "Yes, Grand Uncle. You are mourning your kin, someone you lost… long ago?" The white haze around Death intensified, swirling in intricate patterns. There was a long, tense silence. Then, slowly, Death lowered the scissors and the thread. The smoky air shifted from a sorrowful white to a calm baby blue, indicating a sense of calm. The chains that had held Sultan began to dissolve, the light around him growing brighter. The once suffocating darkness was now a comforting shadow, a reminder of where he had been and how far he had come. Sultan felt a surge of energy, a new sense of purpose filling him. The fear
Sultan awoke in the hospital, the pungent smell of antiseptic filling his nostrils. He groggily lifted his head, his gaze darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. His body felt heavy, as if the weight of reality pressed down on him, lying on the cold, hard operating table. He blinked, his vision clearing to reveal the harsh overhead lights of the surgery room, their brightness piercing through his eyes like a thousand needles. “Ouch!” He winced, squinting against the light. Then, his eyes snapped open wide, and he was met with a shocking sight. His irises, once a dark, unremarkable brown, now glowed with an eerie, luminous purple, like two amethysts radiating an otherworldly energy. The color radiated in a circular pattern, almost hypnotic, against the backdrop of his otherwise normal eyes, which seemed to stare back at him with a newfound intensity. Sultan gasped deeply, the rush of air into his lungs feeling like the first breath he had ever taken, filling him with a sense
Sultan began reading aloud, his voice filled with excitement, his eyes shining with a knowing glint. "The Fool has been successfully overpowered. Here are the pros and cons. Pros: enhanced perception and awareness, access to others' personal information..." He paused, noticing the doctors' confusion deepening, their faces scrunched up in disbelief.Dr. Patel's face turned red with frustration, his brow furrowed, and his hands clenched into fists. "This is the wrong surgery! He needs to be in a psychiatric home. He needs to have his brain operated on!" The doctor's voice rose, his words dripping with disbelief, as he threw up his hands and stormed out of the room.Sultan watched him go, a strange, knowing smile spreading across his face, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief."Just wait and see," he said, turning to Dr. Thompson, his voice filled with conviction, his head nodding slightly. "He's going to get a call."Dr. Thompson raised an eyebrow, her skepticism evident, her eye
Sultan recognized him instantly, memories flashing before his eyes like a rapid-fire slideshow. Days spent as Sultan Armstrong, poor and struggling, working at a restaurant where Emmet had once forgotten his gold W card. The humiliation and anger of living poor came flooding back, but Sultan's smile never wavered. He stretched out a hand, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and said, "Oh, yeah Emmett Watson," his voice calm and serene. "It's good to see you again."As he spoke, he took a step forward, his movements fluid and graceful. Emmett's eyes widened, his face pale, as he took a step back, his hands raised in a defensive gesture.Mrs. Watson stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Emmett's arm, her eyes scanning Sultan's face for any signs of distress. "He just went through surgery," she said, her voice soft with concern, her brow furrowed in worry. "But he doesn't seem like someone who just underwent surgery." Her gaze lingered on Sultan's face, searching for any hint of w
Lugard's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with questions. "How did you know about Lord Lin, young master? No one knew about our...arrangement. It was a secret, known only to a select few."Sultan's smile widened, and he looked at Lugard with a hint of amusement. "I...I don't know, Lugard. I just recalled that my father spoke of him in hushed tones, with a mix of reverence and fear. And now, here you are, connected to him in some way. It's all very… uniting, don't you think?"He spoke like a tease! And Lugards respect for him just doubled… No, quadrupled!Lugard's gaze intensified, his voice low and urgent. "Tell me, young master, what exactly did your father say about Lord Lin? And you called him Grand Uncle? How is he still as young as you if he is that? Every detail is crucial.”***In the ethereal realm of the Major Arcana, a grand court convened, its vast and shimmering expanse filled with an otherworldly light that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. The