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.

The realization came slowly, like a fog lifting. The elder chaos dwarf's words didn't matter. He knew, deep down, that his mother loved him. She wasn't perfect, but she was his mother. She had given him the gift of crafting—a way to express both his intellect and his emotions.

Biore's chest tightened as he thought about the real reason he had never been able to leave the Ironhold Family. It wasn't because he didn't know how. It was because leaving meant he would lose her.

He understood now: his mother needed resources to chase the dream she had been climbing toward her whole life. The Ironhold Family gave her the means to earn them. And even with her ambitions and duties pulling her in every direction, she still found time to check on him.

The rage clouding his mind began to dissipate, replaced by an overwhelming sense of purpose. What he wanted—what he truly wanted—was to reach the pinnacle of craftsmanship. Not for revenge, but to help his mother achieve her dream. He wanted to stand by her side and guide her to the top the way she had once held his hand and guided him to the base of the mountain named crafting, introducing him to this new way of expressing himself.

Whenever he crafted, Biore never felt alone. It was as if his mother was standing right behind him, silently watching. That's why, every time he worked, he gave it his all—no shortcuts, no cutting corners. In those moments, he realized she had never truly abandoned him. She had given him crafting, a companion for when she couldn't be there herself.

The weight of his realization hit him like a hammer, and tears began to stream down his reddened eyes. He looked at the masked demon merchant, his voice trembling but soft.

"She used to check on me, stay for a bit, and then leave. But if I ever asked her about crafting..." He paused, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "...she would stay longer. So even though I hated crafting at first for keeping her away from me, I decided to learn it anyway. I thought maybe, just maybe, it would make her visits more frequent, spend time with me a little longer."

Biore exhaled shakily, his gaze dropping as he spoke. "She taught me all the basics I know about crafting. The first thing I ever successfully made was an automated scrunchie—something to tie and style her long, silky black hair. I wanted her to save time on her hair so she could focus on her work, undisturbed." He let out a quiet chuckle, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "She wore it every day, right up until it got destroyed in a crafting accident."

He looked up, his expression softening further. "You know... my mother, she looks her most beautiful—and happiest—when she's crafting. I'll never forget the first time we worked on something together. That was the best day of my life. She told me I had talent for it, that I shouldn't let it go to waste."

His voice grew steadier as he continued. "Ever since then, I've worked three, sometimes four, times as hard as my peers. Over time, I lost sight of why I started. I forgot what drove me."

Biore's eyes shone with a mix of clarity and resolve as he turned back to Wyatt. "But now I remember. Thank you. Now I know what I want." His voice softened again as he asked, "Can you help me achieve it?"

Wyatt tilted his head, the faintest trace of a smile behind his mask. "No, I can't," he said calmly, watching Biore's expression shift in surprise.

"Because," Wyatt continued, his tone firm yet inviting, "I haven't achieved it myself either. If you're willing, you can accompany me. Together, we can climb to that elusive peak that every crafter dreams of."

Wyatt extended his hand, the offer not just of a partnership but of shared ambition and hope.

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.