SSS-Rank Card Summoner:

Haise opened his eyes.

The Barracks.

That's what he expected.

Instead, the purple sky stretched out above him, endless and distant, its soft glow pressing down on him like it was watching. The glass floor beneath his feet rippled faintly, but it didn't crack this time. It just… held him there. Waiting.

His throat tightened.

Again?

The quiet was broken by a familiar voice behind him. "It's a funny company you've found."

The tone was relaxed, almost like they were old friends catching up. Haise turned, though he already knew who was waiting. The featureless man stood there, his body half-formed against the lavender backdrop. Still no face. Still no name.

His hands curled into weak fists. "Did I die again?"

The man's head tilted faintly, the suggestion of a grin in his voice. "No, Dorian. Or should I say Haise? You're still very much alive."

The reminder of his real name caught him off guard, sharp and cold. He hadn't heard it since… well, since the hospital bed. Since before all this.

"You know my name."

"Of course I do."

Haise's stomach churned. "You said we'd talk. So talk. What is this? What's actually happening?"

The man raised his hand, ignoring the question entirely. Above his palm, the blue system window bloomed into existence, flickering softly.

"This tool," he said, his voice steady, "was originally designed on Earth. A long time ago."

Haise's eyes narrowed. "Wait, Earth? Are you saying this is connected to… where I'm from?"

The man's shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug. "Originally, it was created to help people control their blessings."

"Blessings?" The word felt foreign on his tongue.

The man's head dipped slightly. "Ah. Right. You wouldn't know." His voice softened for the first time. "You can't remember."

Haise's chest tightened. His hands trembled as he looked down at his palms, his breath catching in his throat. Memory. He tried, digging, scraping for something, anything that felt like a real memory. A childhood. A voice. A room. A name.

Nothing.

Just hospital walls and the quiet beeping of machines that weren't his anymore.

His fists clenched tighter, the crack of his knuckles echoing faintly against the glass.

"What did you do to me?" His voice cracked, laced with something sharp, something just on the edge of breaking. "What the fuck did you take from me?"

The man didn't answer right away. His hand lowered, the system window fading from view like it had never been there.

His words landed soft but carried weight. "Do what I ask, and I'll return your memories. All of them. With a little bonus, of course."

Haise's jaw clenched. "Bonus?"

"Motivation." The man's voice drifted lazily, like he was commenting on the weather. "Every now and then, I'll let you peek. A taste. Something to keep you moving forward."

A low laugh rumbled in Haise's chest, bitter and worn. "What kind of bullshit deal is this? Seriously? You dangle my own life in front of me like some prize, and I'm supposed to just, what? Smile and play along?"

He paced, his fingers twitching, dragging through his hair as he tried to pull some sense out of the madness.

"Why me?" His voice dropped. "What makes me so perfect for whatever twisted plan this is?"

The man's gaze, or whatever passed for one, rested on him quietly.

Haise's steps faltered. His thoughts raced in circles, chewing on the fragments he'd been given. He didn't know the rules of this world, didn't know the system's limits, didn't even know who he was fighting for. Or against.

And yet, he wasn't even sure he had another option.

He breathed out slowly. "What's the task?"

The man paused. He seemed to take his time with it, carefully selecting his words, as if the phrasing mattered more than the answer itself.

"I want you to kill me."

Haise blinked. His feet stopped cold on the glass. "What?"

The man's voice didn't waver. "Five years from now, I will lose my mind. I'll become something dangerous. I will seek an artifact that should never be touched. I need you to stop me."

Haise's throat tightened. He searched the man's faceless form for something, some crack, some hint that this was a joke. "If you know this will happen, can't you stop it? Reset yourself. End it now."

The man chuckled, a soft, hollow sound. "You think I haven't tried? I've rewound, erased, torn myself apart in more ways than you can imagine. The outcome never changes. In five years, I will fall."

Haise's teeth ground together. "So why me?"

"You're a wild card," the man said, his hand lifting to the side of his head, fingers forming the shape of a gun. "The next five years, I won't remember this conversation. I'll believe our shared goal is to find that artifact. I'll help you, train you, make you stronger, all while thinking we're on the same side."

His thumb cocked back, the makeshift gun steady.

"You'll know better. You'll know your real mission. You'll know that when the time comes, you must kill me."

Haise's heart pounded. His palms felt clammy, his chest growing tight under the weight of it all.

"You're serious," he whispered. " You won't remember this?"

"I'll be your ally. Your enemy. Your teacher. I will trust you. You'll use that. You'll have five years to surpass me. Good luck, my Ultimate Wild Card." His thumb pressed down.

Click.

The man's head burst in a brilliant, violent explosion of color, shattering into fragments that scattered like glass mixed with fire. Reds, blues, and golds swirled around Haise, the pieces spinning wildly in slow arcs before dissolving into smoke that melted into the purple sky. The impact rang out in the silence, a sharp pulse that seemed to echo forever, leaving behind the faint taste of iron in the air.

The fragments drifted across the glass, spinning close to his feet before vanishing entirely.

Haise stood alone, his breathing ragged, his throat dry.

What the fuck was this? Double agent? Traitor? For who? For a version of this man that wouldn't even remember asking him to do this?

His mind reeled, circling the weight of what he'd just been handed.

Work with him. Learn from him. Pretend to be his ally. And then, when the moment comes, kill him.

Could he even do that? Could he really surpass the very person molding him? And if he failed… then what?

A bitter laugh slipped out before he could stop it.

"Fuck it."

He ran a hand through his hair, dragging it back roughly.

He didn't know the limits of this system. He didn't know what power this world held. But if there was even the smallest chance to get strong enough to shatter the pieces of whatever game he'd been thrown into, he'd take it.