I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human
Chapter 51: King of Hearts

Chapter 51: King of Hearts

"War Games!"

The shout echoed across the courtyard like a cannon blast.

Llarm, Eri, and Gindu practically howled the words in unison, their excitement bouncing off the marble walls of the training grounds. The grass underfoot was springy and vibrant, glowing with a healthy green sheen beneath the warm morning sun. A soft breeze rolled through, rustling the trees beyond the white palace walls that hemmed them in like a pristine fortress.

It was, annoyingly, a perfect day.

Lucy squinted up at the sun like it had personally offended him.’Perfect weather, smiling idiots, birds probably singing somewhere... Yep. Absolutely cursed.’ He kicked at a dandelion just for existing. Some part of him still wasn’t used to waking up in paradise only to be told it was time for bloodsport.

Lucy winced, rubbing at one ear. "Would you morons shut up?" he barked. "You’re not even supposed to know about that yet. Only the generals and I were briefed."

’Why do I even tell these people anything? One breath and it’s a festival announcement.’

Llarm ducked a half-hearted punch from Lucy, laughter spilling from him as if they hadn’t just been scolded. "Sooo... have you picked your team yet?" he asked, dodging backward with exaggerated flair. "Because I happen to know a heroic, dashingly average elf who would love to participate in the Great Festival of Death!"

He struck a dramatic pose, beaming and wobbling slightly, as if expecting applause to rain from the heavens. A passing breeze caught his cape—Lucy had no idea where he had even gotten one—and flared it dramatically behind him.

Eri slashed lazily at Gindu with her claws, the blades glinting in the sun. They scraped harmlessly off his azule scales with a sharp ting.

"I want in too, dummy," she said casually, though her tail twitched with anticipation.

Gindu puffed out his chest, folding his arms. "Yes, Wyrml—ahem, Lucy. I would greatly enjoy the opportunity to demonstrate my dominance over the lesser wyrmlings. You may consider it my formal request to join."

Lucy blinked at them, deadpan.

’Why are they all acting like this is the best news they’ve ever heard? Am I the only one who thinks throwing ourselves into a divine death match sounds terrible?’

"Why do you guys even want to participate so badly?" he asked, half expecting silence.

Instead, all three of them froze for a moment, glanced at one another with perfect comedic timing, then answered in unison:

"To get famous, of course!"

Lucy slowly dragged a hand down his face.

’Of course. They’re just as brain-damaged as Adgrun.’

He let out a sigh and muttered, "Well, lucky you. You three were already my first picks."

He barely finished the sentence before all three lunged at him like children on a birthday cake. They slammed into him with all their weight, knocking him flat onto the grass.

"YES! Thank you, Lucy!" Llarm yelled, squeezing him like a plush toy. "Everyone back home will see the legendary Llarm in action!"

Lucy wheezed beneath the pile, muffled: "Legendary at what? Getting on my nerves?"

"Thanks, dummy," Eri added in a mock-bored tone, but her wagging tail betrayed her glee.

Gindu straightened up slightly, though his tail still whipped with excitement. "Obviously the correct choice, Wyrmling. I shall not disappoint!"

Lucy groaned under the weight of the three overly affectionate maniacs crushing him. His spine cracked in places he wasn’t sure should be cracking.

’Yeah. Already regretting this.’

Meanwhile, in an undisclosed place beyond time and stars...

The four gods sat on thrones suspended in the void—an eternal black expanse peppered with shimmering stars that blinked like distant watchers. Yet none of them shone brighter than the divine beings themselves.

They encircled a floating, circular table that defied gravity. A soft green cloth stretched across the center, broken only by a polished wooden rim that held a neat stack of chips for each player.

Yes—the gods were playing poker.

But not for gold, glory, or pride. What was at stake was far more sacred.

They were gambling for the rules of the War Games.

Seraphine reclined in her throne of white stone and thorns, eyes flicking down at her cards. A Joker and the King of Hearts. She exhaled slowly.

"Thank the veil, they agreed to my version of the game," she thought.

She’d insisted they use a variant where the Joker acted as a wild card, capable of becoming anything. Naturally, it tilted the odds in her favor.

The flop had come down: Jack of Clubs, Nine of Diamonds, Ten of Spades.

Seraphine glanced at her hand again, then set her cards gently on her lap, her expression unreadable. "I bet three," she said coolly, and slid three chips to the center of the table.

Ten chips per god. Three was bold for the first round.

To her left, Ravun shifted. The crimson-clad god of rage sat hunched in his jagged throne, his armor pulsing faintly with heat. His fiery eyes bored into his hand.

"...I call," he grunted, tossing in three chips with far more force than necessary.

Across from Seraphine, Ithriel studied his cards in silence. His armor, a glacial sheen of silver-blue, glowed faintly with starlight. Cold and still, he betrayed nothing. But Seraphine caught it—just for a moment—in his golden eyes:

A flicker of irritation. Perhaps even... doubt.

"I call as well," he said, voice devoid of warmth as he placed his chips.

To Seraphine’s right sat Nyxaris, draped in a cloak of ever-shifting shadows. Her form flickered in and out of reality, as though the cosmos refused to hold her still. Only her sharp, toothy grin remained constant beneath the veil.

"Call," she whispered, her voice slithering like mist as her chips fell into the pot.

The turn card was revealed: Queen of Hearts.

Seraphine almost choked. Her heart stammered once, but her face remained still. The hand on the table—Nine, Ten, Jack, Queen—and her Joker. That was a straight.

A perfect, beautifully timed straight.

She drummed her knuckles once on the table and calmly said, "Check."

Ravun looked like he might shatter the table with his glare. His jaw clenched, his massive shoulders twitching. But he exhaled, forced himself to stillness, and muttered, "Check."

Ithriel, without blinking, echoed, "Check."

Nyxaris’s smile widened. "Check."

Then came the river card: Six of Clubs.

Seraphine didn’t even bother pretending to think. She leaned forward and shoved all her chips into the center with a bright smile that only made the others squint in suspicion.

"I’m all in."

Ravun snarled, his hands curling into fists as he stared at his cards.

Seraphine’s voice cut through the dark like a dagger dipped in sugar. "What’s wrong, Ravun? Lost your nerve? Or do you lack the balls to match me?"

That did it.

"Don’t talk to me like that, woman!" he roared, slamming his remaining chips forward. "All in!"

Ithriel raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking from the pot to Seraphine’s face. "I don’t know what you’re holding," he said evenly, "but I’ll play your little game." With no change in expression, he slid his chips forward. "Call."

Nyxaris hissed a laugh. "Worked out so well for you last time, didn’t it, Ithriel?" Her voice sharpened. "I also call."

"Ithriel?" Seraphine prompted.

The god of dominion didn’t look at her. "Flip your cards."

One by one, they laid their hands on the table.

Seraphine smiled as she revealed her Joker and King. "Straight," she announced. "Nine of Diamonds, Ten of Spades, Jack of Clubs, Queen of Hearts, and the Joker as an Ace."

Nyxaris clicked her tongue. "Higher than mine."

"I also had a straight," Ithriel said tonelessly. "Six through Ten."

Ravun didn’t speak. He hurled his cards across the void in a fit of fury.

"This is bullshit! Why did we let her use the Joker?!"

Seraphine’s laugh was musical and maddening. "Oh, Ravun... I would’ve won anyway. My King of Hearts beats your little tantrum."

Ithriel’s face remained stoic. "You are the victor. State your rule."

She raised a single, pale finger. "No Giants allowed."

Ravun nearly shot out of his throne. "No Giants? That’s absurd! They embody rage—my rage! They belong in the Games!"

Seraphine didn’t flinch. "Since Ithriel violated the last agreement and slaughtered my Giants in our last battle... I think it’s fair they’re excluded from this one."

Ithriel’s jaw twitched. Just barely. "...Agreed."

Nyxaris let out a soft, mirthless chuckle. "I agree as well. And if that’s all... I’ll be leaving."

Without another word, she dissolved into shadow, vanishing like smoke.

Ithriel followed. One moment present, the next, gone.

Ravun stayed just long enough to release a frustrated roar that echoed across the stars, then disappeared in a blaze of searing red.

Now alone, Seraphine sat back in her throne.

She stared down at the discarded King of Hearts on the table, her expression softening. For the briefest moment, the weight of eternity cracked through her immortal mask.

A single tear traced down her cheek.

Then she vanished too, leaving the void behind.