The once-inky sky was torn apart by streaks of orange, pink, and purple, the colors reflecting in the shimmering waves below. Deckard sat on the pier, shuffling a deck of 52 blank cards. The rhythmic roar of the surf and the flutter of his cards provided a soothing backdrop to his thoughts. His legs swung idly above the water as he replayed everything that had happened in AstroTerra so far—his victories, his shortcomings.

  A quick internet search had told him that it wasn’t common knowledge that Ronan was an alien, nor that the card slinger class even existed.

  Just how did I get this class?

  It was hard to believe it was mere chance. He knew the events that had led him here, but there had to be something more.

  Had his unbiased approach to the game been the key? Following guides or walkthroughs would never have led him to this hidden class. Does that mean I’m onto something by trusting my instincts? Or was it pride—his experience as a veteran gamer—that kept him away from the guides?

  Pride comes before the fall. Maybe I need to start reading guides.

  And yet... maybe it wasn’t about his playstyle at all. Maybe the class had found him because of his obsession with cards.

  Was it because I asked only card-related questions after the cinematic?

  After witnessing the Rain of Fire and watching the opening cinematic, he'd talked to the NPC who helps beginners. His questions to her had been solely focused on cards. Had that NPC picked up on his single-mindedness and pointed him toward Stiltwave Village? Deckard was inclined to think so. What were the odds that when he chose a random beginner village, he’d end up in the one where the local shopkeeper was an alien in disguise offering a card-related hidden class? Or were there aliens hidden all over AstroTerra, waiting for someone as card-obsessed as him to come along?

  His mind wandered back to the cinematic. How many quests were tied to it?

  Who are "they"? Aliens? What’s their agenda? Could they have undercover agents fighting against the Zulmers from the shadows?

  The questions came in rapid succession, each one raising more uncertainty. Is there a class that opposes mine directly?

  His future in the game also loomed foremost in his thoughts. He had tried close combat a few times, and it hadn’t gone well. Clumsy would be an understatement.

  How will my new class affect that? Will the added range help me stop freezing while fighting?

  Or maybe he had to accept his weakness and avoid it entirely. He could focus on observing creatures from a distance, gathering enough information to capture them without a fight. Maybe he could skip fighting altogether between that and trading cards with other players. Or should he hone his card-throwing skills and learn how to take down monsters with precision?

  Deckard grinned, thinking of what Andy used to say whenever they played together. “It must be hell inside your head,” Andy would laugh, shaking his head as Deckard agonized over every possible strategy. But that’s how I work, Deckard thought. He couldn’t just leave loose ends lingering. He had to connect every dot and make sense of every event. It was the only way to move forward.

  It wasn’t all philosophical musings, though. Deckard had spent hours experimenting with the repository, learning which cards granted which bonuses. Affinity, he’d discovered, wasn’t the key factor in determining bonuses. Both seagulls and starfish were of the water affinity, but the former boosted attack speed while the latter restored health. Creature or skill—it didn’t matter—[Cranky Seagull], [Seagull Poison], [Seagull Strike]—all contributed to his attack speed.

  Another discovery was that creatures didn’t necessarily offer bigger bonuses than skills. Sure, [Cranky Seagull] boosted attack speed by 0.2%, but [Common Starfish] only by 0.1%.

  Deckard flicked the cards between his fingers. His time with the card repository had yielded some answers, but his character sheet remained a puzzle. No level. No basic stats. That gnawed at him.

  Will certain content be locked away from me? What if there’s a dungeon with a level requirement?

  He glanced at his gloves—the only piece of real equipment he had. They granted a 1% bonus to attack speed and a point of dexterity. But that second bonus was useless to him. The 1% boost to attack speed was the equivalent of having ten seagull-related cards in his repository. Gear seemed like the fastest way to improve his stats, which raised other questions.

  If a weapon requires a level, can I even equip it? And what about class restrictions? Isn’t most equipment class-specific? Will I be stuck and unable to equip myself with anything useful?

  As the sun’s first rays broke over the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, Deckard stood up. The light stretched across the distant treetops, breathing life into the edges of the jungle.

  It doesn’t matter, Deckard decided, feeling a surge of determination. There’s one thing I know for sure: cards are the key. Even if good equipment wasn’t available to him, cards were. They were his path forward. The more cards he collected, the stronger he’d become. His class had already given him a surefire way to capture rare creatures with [Subdimensionalize]. Skill cards, though—that remained a mystery. Is there a special way to acquire them, or will I just have to grind?

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  That question would have to wait. He had squeezed every possible deduction from his conversation with Ronan and the events that had led him here, but deduction could only take him so far.

  Now it’s time for action. Deckard grinned to himself. I need to run more experiments. I need to figure out how card slinging really works.

  He turned away from the ocean, the breeze tugging gently at his clothes. A simple quest awaited—two hundred coconuts—but it was exactly what he needed. A perfect test for his new abilities. His grin widened.

  Let’s see what I can do.

  Deckard walked across the wooden platforms and planks that formed Stiltwave Village. The boards creaked softly underfoot, the sound blending with the increasingly distant crash of waves.

  “Good day!”

  “Morning, foreigner.”

  Unlike his earlier visits, the NPCs now greeted him with warm smiles, a few even nodding as if signaling their willingness to talk. It was a welcome change, but Deckard wasn’t ready to take in more quests just yet. Too much was still swirling in his mind.

  It didn’t take long before the village gave way to sand, the beach stretching before him, framed by the dark line of the jungle in the distance. As he walked toward the treeline, he carefully avoided the diseased seagulls roaming the shore.

  Strange, he thought. Since I got this class, I’ve become weaker, not stronger. The small boosts from his cards hardly compensated for what he had lost. All his base stats had evaporated, leaving him more vulnerable than ever. With no experience fighting mutant creatures and no skill at throwing cards in battle, his chances of victory against a lone diseased seagull weren’t promising.

  He spotted coconut trees as he neared the frontier between the beach and the jungle—a patch of land where loose trees and shrubs began to creep into the sand. Several players were scattered around, eagerly rushing to snatch up any falling coconuts. There must be more than one quest for harvesting coconuts, Deckard mused, noting the six players scrambling around. Seeing how desperate they were for such a basic item was sad. Deckard focused on the ones hanging high above.

  Absent-mindedly, Deckard shuffled the deck of cards in his hand. The movement wasn’t just a habit or a way to pass the time. Over the past few hours, shuffling had helped him grow accustomed to the cards—their weight, their balance, the way they moved through the air.

  Even though he couldn’t compare with some really devoted people who only used cards for throwing, Deckard wasn’t a total beginner. Especially since Nova Cardia’s queuing times began increasing, he would often throw cards around the apartment, a habit he’d picked up from a rival he’d seen doing the same at a Nova Cardia tournament.

  Without overthinking, Deckard pulled a card from the deck. His grip was firm but relaxed, pinching the short side of the card between his index and middle fingers, the rest of his fingers tucked neatly out of the way. The bulk of the card faced inward, resting lightly against his palm.

  Turning his palm up, Deckard curved his wrist inward, bringing the card up to the side of his head. He bent his elbow just enough to position his arm, his pinkie hovering near his ear. He flicked his wrist in a quick, smooth motion, letting the card snap upward.

  The sharp rotation spun the card like a disc, slicing through the air. The clean motion gave the card enough speed to cut through the breeze, heading straight toward the target. The card sliced through the air but didn’t quite reach the coconut. Instead, it fluttered down halfway.

  Only about two meters up with a quick throw? He clicked his tongue but noted the result. Let’s see just how much difference technique has in throwing the cards.

  Whereas before, he had only tossed the card with a quick flick of his wrist, this time, Deckard put his entire body into motion. He adjusted his grip, tightening his fingers around the card, then stepped forward, his opposite arm raised for balance. Drawing his throwing arm back, he coiled his body, building momentum from his legs to his shoulders.

  In one fluid motion, he uncoiled, swinging his arm forward with power. His wrist snapped at the last moment, adding a sharp spin to the card as it shot through the air with a satisfying snap. The card cut a clean path, the air whistling faintly as it flew toward the target.

  Swoosh. Thwack.

  The card struck the coconut dead-on, and with a solid thud, the coconut dropped into the sand.

  Oof. Deckard winced and rubbed his shoulder. I have to put my whole body into it just to get the card to fly three and a half meters. It was not ideal, but it was progress. More importantly, it taught him something new about his class: technique mattered in how far and quickly the cards flew. I wonder if the damage is also impacted.

  Moving toward the fallen coconut, curiosity tingled at the back of his mind. Next experiment: what happens to my ammo once I use it?

  As he reached the coconut, he noticed the card embedded in its shell, having been pierced cleanly through. He plucked it free and inspected the results.

  You’ve gathered 1x [Coconut].

  You’ve recovered 1x [Subdimensionalizer Card].

  So I can recover my throwing card after gathering whatever it stuck on. I wonder if it applies to monsters, too. Deckard clicked his tongue, a slight frown tugging at his lips. That complicates things. Unless...

  Testing his next theory, Deckard threw the card away aimlessly. The card fluttered down, landing softly in the sand. He stood still, watching.

  Nothing happens.

  With a sigh, he trudged over to pick up the card.

  You’ve recovered 1x [Subdimensionalizer Card].

  Deckard frowned. He was a decent shot, but cards weren’t exactly easy projectiles to manage—especially if he was in the heat of combat against a mutant creature. He had never practiced card throwing while running away from something trying to kill him. This is going to be harder than I thought—the idea of juggling accuracy while dodging attacks wasn’t appealing.

  What if I run out of cards mid-fight? The thought hit him like a wave. I’d only be able to deal so much damage before I’d be forced to retreat. How could I replenish my stock in battle?

  There was only one last test to perform. Deckard threw another card, this time landing it squarely on a coconut. He opened his repository and flipped to the first page, where he could retrieve more blank cards.

  Time until you can pick another [Subdimensionalizer Card]: 1m21s

  Deckard sighed again, a heavier weight settling on his shoulders. So there’s a cooldown. It wasn't low, either. If it took about 90 seconds per card, replenishing his stock ammunition would take over an hour.

  He now had a clearer understanding of the limits of his class. Managing his resources would require careful planning. It wasn’t just about how well he could throw the cards—it was about timing, strategy, and knowing when to hold back.

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  Deckard turned toward the players who had approached him.

  Already? He knew that someone in the beginner village would bite the bait, but he hadn’t expected it to happen this soon. It was time for his next experiment.

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