Deckard studied the small wooden shack, situated just above where waves lapped lazily against the sand. It sat near the pier, across from the modest bar where he’d played his first game of Terralore.

  He’d passed it before, but never paid it much attention. This was the place to recover from stat penalties after death.

  A wide-shouldered man sat beside a low cot—more of a wooden platform, really, with a rolled-up mat and a carved headrest. It was the sort of thing you’d see at a rustic island spa.

  Another player was just approaching. Judging by the stone axe slung across her back, she’d likely died in the same dungeon as Deckard. The thought was strangely comforting.

  The player gave a small wave, and the burly man stood with a grunt.

  “Come,” the man said in a thick, musical accent, “Turn ‘round, let me see.”

  The player obeyed, and the NPC placed thick hands on her shoulders. A series of swift, practiced movements followed—pressure at the base of the neck, a twist of the torso, and a crack-crack-crack! echoed in the quiet morning air. The player let out a surprised breath.

  “Oof. That was—nice, actually,” the player mumbled, stretching experimentally.

  “Not bad, eh?” the man chuckled. “You walk like crab before. Now you walk like tiger.”

  After the player walked away, Deckard stepped forward. “Hello, sir.”

  “Hello, sir,” the man echoed with a nod. “You pull someting, ah?”

  Deckard smiled. “Yes. You could say that.”

  “No think I see you before,” he said, squinting. “Maybe first time, eh? Come, come here for lil’ bit.”

  Deckard stepped closer, slightly wary but curious. The man guided him to sit cross-legged, then kneel on the mat. The NPC’s thick fingers dug into his shoulders, then trailed down his spine with deliberate pressure. When he twisted Deckard’s torso just so, Deckard felt his joints pop in rapid succession. Shoulders, back, neck. Each one with a satisfying release.

  Why does this feel good? This is just my avatar. Could dying somehow misalign your in-game spine?

  “That was good. Thanks!” Deckard said.

  “I hardly had to do anything,” the man said with a shrug. “I won’t charge you this time. But be careful. You keep piling up injuries, it take more work. That cost more, understand?”

  Deckard nodded. “Understood. Thank you.”

  He pulled up his character sheet, eyes scanning for the Attack stat. It was back to full power.

  He grinned. I’m ready to go back, then.

  Without another word, he turned toward the jungle and broke into a run. It was time to give the macaques’ dungeon another try.

  *

  Deckard stood at the familiar stretch where things had gone so wrong last time. A humid breeze rustled the leaves overhead, the same whooping call echoing faintly in the canopy.

  But this time, he was ready.

  He took a deep breath, cards already fanned out in his hand. Keep your cool, Deckard.

  Thwap. Zap. Pop!

  Just like before, Deckard cycled through [Four Aces], [Heavy Shot], and [Pinch Point]. The first half of the macaques never made it close. Charged cards thudded into fur with satisfying bursts of light, the damage numbers flaring.

  He waited for the last three to close in, then activated his ring.

  Spider Web!

  Silver threads snapped outward, anchoring themselves to the branches and snagging the three remaining macaques mid-charge. They screeched and flailed, caught just short of reaching Deckard.

  Last time, that was when panic had kicked in. This time, he jogged backward at a measured pace, keeping his center of balance low, boots placing firmly on each solid patch of wood and, more importantly, his eyes on the ground. He didn’t try throwing cards as he attacked. No rushing. No [Seagull Dash].

  By the time the webbing dissolved, he’d already created distance, repositioned to a better place with better footing. From there, he picked them off one by one.

  One macaque went down. Then another.

  His throwing card glowed crimson—an Ace laced with [Heavy Shot]. It struck clean, triggering a critical.

  -34!

  The last macaque staggered backward, arms flailing as it lost its balance.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Deckard exhaled, watching the creature burst into particles.

  He took a moment to reflect, standing among the twitching loot icons. The web had held longer than he remembered—at least four seconds, maybe five. He hadn’t given his [Spider Ring] enough credit. Fear had made him bolt the moment he saw them struggle.

  That death was avoidable, he thought, crouching to scoop up a few glinting items. But at least I learned something.

  He proceeded forward and circled the great tree’s base, heading for the broad wooden platform nestled above.

  The elite was there, just as before.

  The Macaque Leader slept, curled around its thorn-wrapped cudgel, its thick frame rising and falling with each breath.

  Deckard eased onto a perch just outside its aggro range and sat, cross-legged, watching it.

  You’ve observed the Macaque Leader. Your Understanding of it grows.

  Now came the waiting game.

  “I’m going to be here a while,” Deckard muttered, settling into a cross-legged position just outside the aggro radius. “Might as well see what lies ahead.”

  He flicked open the browser and navigated to the dungeon guide he’d pinned to his favorites. It was a well-organized reference document with videos, annotated maps, and item drop rates.

  He scrolled down to the section on elites and bosses, tapping into the entry for the Macaque Leader.

  The description matched the slumbering brute before him. The cudgel it cradled like a child was a nightmare to dodge in close quarters. But the attack pattern was quite basic. A slow, telegraphed wind-up.

  Deckard queued up a short video clip embedded in the guide. The Macaque Leader bellowed, lifted its cudgel overhead, then slammed it down in a wide arc. Each swing looked like it took genuine effort—its arms shook under the weight.

  It wasn’t hard to see the strikes coming. But seeing and avoiding it were two different things.

  The platform was the real danger. Barely ten meters across and shaped like an uneven crescent, it gave little room for error. Most player deaths, the guide noted, happened because of party members bumping into each other while dodging and getting clipped by the follow-through.

  No allies here, so no risk of miscommunication. That works in my favor.

  He scratched the side of his jaw, eyes narrowing.

  If he spaced out his throws and kept his distance, he could chip away at it enough to improve his chances of capture.

  He scrolled further, checking the loot table. There it was—the card he’d seen Ratu play in their first duel.

  Macaque Leader ??

  Rarity: Uncommon

  Type: Creature

  Affinity: ??

  Cost: 3

  Points: 5

  Deckard glanced at the sleeping beast.

  Just you wait! You will be in my repository soon!

  He moved on to the next elite: the Jungle Tinker.

  A wiry macaque with soot-smudged fur and oversized goggles, the Tinker looked like an inventor. Its workshop—a jumble of twisted branches, a pile of flint, and smoke-stained stone—was perched on a platform, too. He was supposed to be the macaque arming all the others.

  Deckard pulled up the guide’s clip. The video opened, the Tinker let out a keening whistle, summoning nine macaques from the surrounding canopies, each wielding one of the dungeon’s signature weapons.

  While players fought the nine macaques in close quarters, the Tinker threw weapons from the back.

  The guide’s notes suggested that the key was to ignore the chaos and focus on the elite itself. Its defenses were low, its health pool shallow. In group runs, the fight was a cakewalk—teams would split cleanly into two roles: one group controlling the mobs, the other melting the Tinker. But Deckard didn’t have that luxury.

  I’ll just have to be extra patient when acquiring Understanding.

  Next up was the final boss: the Weaponmaster.

  A muscular macaque with disciplined posture and a permanent scowl, the Weapon Master was less savage beast and more disciplined warrior. It didn’t rely on brute strength or swarms of underlings. It was a clever and fast fighter.

  Deckard tapped into the guide’s video. The boss leapt into the clearing, wielding a stone axe. But unlike the common macaques, it didn’t flail it wildly. Every motion was precise. It twirled the axe with finesse, shifting its grip, using the weapon to control space.

  Wow! Such a difference from the regular macaques!

  The real problem wasn’t just its raw skill. It was the unpredictability.

  The Weapon Master rotated between three different weapons during the fight, each randomly selected from the arsenal used by the dungeon’s mobs. Sometimes it fought with a spear, using long-range thrusts to control distance. Other times it would switch to a club, trying to push players off the platform.

  Every swap came with a change in stance, rhythm, and strategy.

  Fast, smart, and flexible. But as long as I stay patient… I can deal with it.

  [Subdimensionalize] meant that as long as he was patient, he could capture any elites and bosses.

  After watching a few more videos of players tackling the elites and the final boss, Deckard closed the browser tab and leaned back against the trunk of a thick jungle tree. The Macaque Leader’s snore filled the quiet.

  It had been over two weeks since he first logged into AstroTerra. And he was still on Beginner Island.

  Most players cleared it in three days. Some in less.

  His savings were shrinking by the day. Taking care of Mom, helping Uncle Arnold—it all cost real money. He still had enough to last him several months, but he would like to start earning soon.

  For that, he needed to play in tournaments. To play in tournaments, he had to reach a city.

  The problem was that the teleportation gate only offered a free ride to a mid-grade city when a player hit level 10.

  Deckard’s class didn’t have levels.

  There were ways around that, sure. None of them good.

  Option one: take the tunnel. It connected the island’s interior to the nearest mid-grade city: Aquascape. But it was crawling with level-30 monsters. A few people made it through. Most didn’t. According to the forums, there was only a one-in-five chance of surviving the trip.

  Option two: go by sea.

  He’d considered it. Even with all the swimming bonuses he’d racked up, there was no way he could swim the entire way. Building a boat, maybe? Some players built rafts when going after the turtle wild boss.

  But those rafts were barely good enough for coastal fights. Crossing open sea on one? One strong gust of wind, and it was game over. Not to mention ocean monsters.

  Which left the third option.

  Maybe my class has its own solution.

  If he could collect every card on the island that would trigger something. A quest. A clue. A mechanic hidden behind the progression.

  After this dungeon, only the final wild boss remained. He would try to at least complete that.

  That was only part of the issue.

  Once he got to the city, he needed to enter the competitive scene of Terralore.

  He glanced at his deck, then toward the horizon. He’d already earned some powerful cards here. And there was one more card in this dungeon—versatile enough to fit into almost any build. He wasn’t leaving without it.

  If he could complete all the mini-sets on the island, maybe he could put together a good enough deck to get started.

  Deckard opened his browser again.

  If I’m going to compete, I need to understand how my cards measure up to the current meta.

  For the first time since starting AstroTerra, he searched for footage from a recent Terralore tournament. His fingers hovered over the play button.

  Let’s see if I’m strong enough to play against the pros.