Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2411 Twisted

Chapter 2411  Twisted

Date: Unspecified Time: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Yellow Plains, Freedom Fighter's headquarters. "Now that's the funniest thing I've heard all day," Sansa laughed, her voice sharp with amusement, though her eyes burned with barely contained rage. She stared at Wyatt as if she wanted to rip his mouth apart for daring to say that the life she built with Baylor was nothing more than Ellen's charity.

But as she tried to summon her power, a chilling realization struck her—within the Celestial Blood Rule Domain, her abilities were being severely restrained. If not for her divinity, she would've thought she had regressed to a mere mortal.

Then she saw it—that dismissive shake of Wyatt's head. It sent her fury spiraling out of control. Grinding her teeth, she spat, "I'm sure your parents told you how they met… but only I know the real story. Do you want to hear how your father, a penniless bum, managed to land your mother—the princess of the Duskborn family?"

Wyatt chuckled, his gaze mocking. "Oh, I don't doubt that you played your little games, pulling the strings behind the scenes." His smirk widened as he leaned forward. "But that doesn't change the fact that the love they shared—their marriage—was real. Unlike yours with Baylor. No wonder that, after all these years, you were never able to give birth to his child."

His words struck like a dagger, deliberate and cruel. He didn't just attack her marriage—he dragged her inability to conceive her love's child despite marrying him for more than a decade now into it, twisting the blade deeper.

Sansa's face darkened, her fingers twitching against the stone table. The moment he acknowledged that his parents' union wasn't fate but her own manipulation, she expected outrage, maybe even denial. But instead, he seemed… unbothered. No—worse. Thankful.

Her stomach twisted. From his perspective, it made sense—without her interference, he wouldn't even exist. But knowing that didn't make her anger any easier to swallow. She wanted to flip the table, shatter the smug look off his face, but she forced herself to stay composed, though the crack in her expression betrayed her simmering rage.

"You know," Wyatt mused, his tone almost casual, "I recently learned that Ellen wanted to make you her only child's godparent."

He let the words hang in the air, watching for a reaction. Then, after a deliberate pause, he added with a smirk, "You know what's funny? Until the day she died, Ellen truly believed you were her best friend. She was always grateful for how 'supportive' you were of her love."

Sansa scoffed, a cruel smile curling on her lips. "Sucker—" she sneered, mocking Ellen's ignorance and naivety.

"Don't do that," Wyatt cut in sharply, his voice low but firm. His piercing gaze locked onto hers as if daring her to deny what he was about to say. "I know the truth. Despite your envy, despite everything—you still considered her your best friend until the very end. That's why you never used your ability on her or the people close to her. That's why you had Karl do your dirty work—why you hired him to kill her and her family. Because deep down, you knew Baylor would never truly be yours as long as Ellen was alive."

The room felt colder. Sansa's expression faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before she masked it with indifference. But Wyatt saw it—saw the flicker of something behind her eyes.

She hated Ellen and envied her, but she loved her, too, as she was her one true friend. Everyone else around her treated her like a tragic kid or avoided her because she was a weird kid.

"What are you trying to get at, young man?" Sansa's voice was sharp, and her patience was wearing thin. She leaned forward, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Out of consideration for my friendship with your mother, you want me to spare you? Is that it?"

She was done with this back-and-forth. She didn't like how much Wyatt knew about her—how easily he was peeling back the layers she had long since buried.

Wyatt chuckled, shaking his head as if she had completely missed the point. "No," he said smoothly, "I just wanted you to know that Ellen considered you a true friend until the very end. If you had asked for her help with Baylor, she would have happily helped you—without a second thought."

He let the words sink in before tilting his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "And you know that. But you just couldn't stomach it, could you? Knowing that as long as Ellen was around, you'd never be Baylor's priority."

He sighed dramatically, his expression almost mocking. "Well, I guess it is what it is, huh?"

The air between them grew heavy. Sansa's fingers twitched against the armrest of her chair, the slightest crack in her composure. Wyatt could see it—the way her jaw clenched, the way her eyes darkened with restrained fury.

And that was exactly what he wanted.

"Stop trying to paint your mother as some kind of saint who sacrificed her life for me!" Sansa screamed, slamming her fist against the table. The impact sent a sharp echo through the room, but it did little to ease her frustration. Her fingers curled into the stone as her chest heaved. She hated this—hated the Celestial Blood Rule Domain that restrained her, hated how she could do nothing but take this shit from the insolent brat in front of her.

Wyatt sneered, watching her unravel with detached amusement. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" His tone was taunting, and his smirk made her blood boil even more.

"Shut up!" Sansa snapped, her voice laced with venom. "She knew how much Baylor meant to me! If she was truly my friend, she would have helped me without me having to ask!"

Wyatt leaned back, his gaze calculating. He could see it—the struggle flickering in her eyes. He was forcing her to relive memories she had long tried to bury, twisting the knife into wounds she thought had healed. And despite being someone who could manipulate minds, even Sansa found it impossible to erase Ellen from hers.

"Ellen wasn't just your friend. She was Baylor's friend too," Wyatt said, his voice slow and deliberate. "And that's what you really hate, isn't it? Because you wanted to be everything to him. You wanted Baylor all to yourself."

He tilted his head, studying her. "Honestly, I don't know how you managed to keep your true self hidden from him for so many years. Especially during your marriage. But I suppose fear worked in your favor. Fear of losing him. Fear of being hated by him. Fear of him being indifferent to you. Fear is a powerful motivator when used correctly, isn't it?"

His words hung in the air, a twisted reminder to everyone at the table just how deep Sansa's obsession with Baylor had run. She had spent her life molding herself into what he needed, suppressing the real her—when in truth, she never had to. With her power, she could have demanded anything. Yet, she chose to shape her entire existence around him, as long as he was at the center of her world alone.

Wyatt's smirk deepened. "Let me guess… You thought Baylor would never be able to move on from Ellen as long as you were still around, right?" He let the words settle before delivering the final blow. "It must've killed you when he told you he wanted to adopt me."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sansa's nails dug into the table, her expression twisting into something dark and unreadable. But Wyatt could see it—the slight tremble in her fingers, the way her breath hitched for just a second.

…

"Will this teleportation array formation actually work?" Joy asked, her gaze shifting between Henricks and the nearly hundred teleportation arrays being assembled. The regular members of the organization bustled around, carefully placing ingredients and aligning formations under the supervision of the array masters. Fortunately, they had just enough skilled individuals to pull it off. Plus, the teleportation arrays were detailed enough to allow the higher-ranked array masters to divide the work among lower-level array masters and volunteers, making the process smoother.

"Yeah, it will," Henricks confirmed, arms crossed as he watched the work in progress. "It was designed by a monster—you'd have to meet her to understand what I mean."

Joy arched a brow at his wording. "A monster?"

Henricks chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll see."

Joy hummed in thought before adding, "So, your decision to join Wyatt wasn't just a last-ditch effort?" She had suspected as much—Henricks wasn't the type to make desperate, reckless moves. If he had thrown his lot in with Wyatt, he had likely thought it through.

Henricks exhaled, his gaze steady. "You'll understand when we get there." There was no point in discussing it further—at this stage, they were already committed.

Joy crossed her arms, watching the formation process for a moment before turning back to Henricks. "What about Matron? Why doesn't he just kill her and let the others come help with the immigration plan?" It seemed like the obvious solution. With the other demigods available—especially Luna—they could speed things up considerably.

Henricks' expression darkened slightly. "He said Matron's Origin Card is tricky. Apparently, if she wanted to, she could kill all of us in an instant, and we wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop her."

Joy's breath hitched, her body going stiff as a chill ran down her spine. The casual hum of activity around them suddenly felt distant. "What…?" The weight of Henricks' words settled over her mind like a thick fog of dread.