Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2417 Its Done

Chapter 2417  Its Done

Date: Unspecified Time: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Yellow Plains, Freedom Fighter's headquarters. As Luna spoke, the other captains exchanged uneasy glances, shaking their heads. Even Blair, who rarely hesitated to challenge Sansa, seemed to think the demand was a step too far.

The Emissary of Light wasn't just some powerful card apprentice—he was practically a god within the Empire. Millions of card apprentices revered him and would willingly lay their lives for him. He was protected around the clock by thousands of semi-demigod and demigod guards. Forget kidnapping him—getting an audience with him without his permission was nearly impossible.

"So, it's decided then," Wyatt suddenly announced, his smug smile widening. "Sansa will kidnap the Emissary of Light and bring him to us so we can judge him for his crimes."

"Wait—what? When did I agree to that?!" Sansa protested, eyes widening in shock.

The only reason she had made the bold claim of bringing them the Emissary of Light's head was because she had a way to do it—without actually breaking her oath. At the right moment, she could activate a hidden pawn within the Emissary's ranks and have them chop off his head before sending it to her.

She knew the Emissary of Light loved to show off his supposed immortality to his followers. He'd likely allow the assassin to behead him just for the spectacle. He'd stay "dead" for a few seconds, letting the panic settle in, only to dramatically rise again, proving to his followers that he was unkillable—that he could not die until his mission in this world wasn't over.

Sansa was betting everything on that habit. It was the perfect loophole. She wouldn't have to break her oath, and she'd still prove her worth to the Freedom Fighters. But Wyatt was pushing her into a far more dangerous game.

But kidnapping the Emissary of Light? That was a whole different story. There was no way her Paw Clan could pull that off. To make it happen, she'd have to be there in person, going head-to-head with him in an all-out war. Fighting the Emissary of Light in his own territory meant going up against the entire Empire, its entire population including the toddlers.

Her Paw Clan was formidable, but compared to the sheer population of the Empire, their numbers were insignificant. Fortunately, with the haunting memory ability of her origin card, an army—even an entire nation—meant little to her. But if she went through with this, she would have to massacre the entire Empire just to capture the Emissary of Light and escape.

The old her wouldn't even hesitate to head such a cruel, violent act. But now? Now she was restarting her life with Baylor. And the last thing she wanted was to do something that would make him look at her with disgust.

Wyatt watched, expecting Sansa to push back, to argue. Instead, he saw her expression shift, as if she were genuinely weighing the possibility. His smirk faded slightly before he shook his head, unimpressed. Her acting was good—too good.

But he knew the truth. She would never move against the Emissary of Light. Because if she did, she wouldn't just have to worry about him—she'd have to watch her back for the Supreme Leader. And possibly even Gideon Grim. After all, there were too many intertwined interests in their alliance. Even though she had opted out of world domination, the other two mischiefs hadn't. They might be willing to let her live her own life, but if she ever tried to sabotage them, they wouldn't hesitate to eliminate her first—to cut off any future threats before they could take root.

The captains watched Sansa and Wyatt intently. None of them felt any sympathy for Sansa, considering her history with them they have been a very gracious host to her. Instead, they were more focused on figuring out their new leader's intent. What exactly was Wyatt trying to achieve here? Why was he dragging this out instead of just giving her a clear answer?

It wasn't Sansa that seemed odd to them—it was Wyatt.

They all knew it was impossible for Sansa to kidnap or kill the Emissary of Light. And more importantly—who were they to judge the Emissary of Light for his so-called crimes?

To them, the Emissary of Light was the most restrained of the three mischiefs. Unlike the others, he kept his operations contained within the Empire and took great care of his followers, forging their faith in him. Unlike Luna, they had no idea that his ambitions extended far beyond the Empire. So, it wasn't surprising they were confused as to why Wyatt was targeting him. Just then, a space gate shimmered open behind Wyatt. Henricks stepped out, leaned in, and whispered in his ear, "It's done."

Wyatt gave a subtle nod, not letting the relief show on his face. Instead, he straightened and sternly announced, "That concludes our meeting for today. Everyone out."

Sansa blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Seeing the others preparing to leave, she hurriedly protested, "Wait—I'm not done yet! I can't kidnap the Emissary of Light. That's beyond my ability. You might as well ask me to kill myself!"

"But we are done," Wyatt replied coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He signaled the captains to leave with Henricks, then leaned back in his chair, eyeing Sansa without the slightest hint of urgency.

"Without that amount of risk, how do you expect to prove that we can trust you?" he asked, his voice calm yet cutting. "Have you forgotten the bad blood between you and the Freedom Fighters? If we were to welcome you with open arms over something as trivial as gathering some worthless intel on the Emissary of Light, how would we justify that to our members? How are we supposed to show our faces after that?"

The captains dragged their feet, curious to see how this would play out, but Henricks shot them a sharp glare, silently urging them to move along. One by one, they stepped through the space gate, until only Wyatt, Sansa, and the fake Baylor—who now looked more like a worn-out, aged version of the real one—remained in the celestial blood rule domain.