[07: 16: 02: 34]
…
Cassian took a deep, steadying breath as he pressed the cold steel of the knife against his thigh. The metal bit into his skin like an unyielding reminder of his purpose—a purpose he both dreaded and craved. His fingers tightened around the hilt, and for a suspended moment, he hesitated.
This is reckless; I know it. But if I don't push my limits now, I'll never truly know what I'm capable of and from what sort of damage I can heal from.
"Just do it, Cassy," he murmured to himself. In one swift, determined motion, the blade arced across his flesh. A sharp sting blossomed along his thigh, jolting him into a cascade of agonizing sensations.
"Argh!" he gasped, clenching his jaw tightly. His fingers gripped the fabric of his worn pants as warm blood began to seep out. The crimson liquid, stark against his pale skin, marked the spot—a small, deliberate wound, no more than a centimeter in length, yet laden with undeniable pain. Even as the pain radiated outward, Cassian forced himself to remain still, to focus on the experiment he had set in motion.
Almost immediately, a notification materialized in his vision:
[ DING! ⍙⟟⏁⊑ ⏃… ]
[ DING! ⍙⟟⏁⊑ ⏃… SAYS YOU HAVE NO SPINE. THERE IS STILL TIME. STAB THAT KNIFE DEEP; SPILL MORE BLOOD ]
Cassian's eyes narrowed in irritation. Ignore that; he scolded himself internally. This entity is weird, but I've got work to do.
"[Heal]," he spoke, his voice steady despite the tumult of feelings inside him.
Almost immediately, a soft, warm glow radiated from the cut. The sensation that spread through his leg was more than just physical relief—it was addictive, comforting, and surreal. As if guided by unseen hands, the torn flesh knit itself seamlessly back together, leaving only the faintest pinkish scar that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Cassian exhaled sharply, his fingers trailing over the now smooth skin as if verifying the miracle with each delicate touch.
"Damn…" he muttered, his tone a mixture of awe and disbelief. His breathing remained heavy—not from the exertion of the act, but from the rush of witnessing his own regenerative power. That was fast… which is good, he thought, flexing his leg to confirm there was no lingering soreness or residual discomfort.
"So, it works… but probably not on something as extreme as regrowing limbs," he added, half-amused by the notion. Leaning back against a broken wall, Cassian allowed himself a slow, reflective sigh. His gaze next fell upon the set of instant cards arranged neatly before him, each one slotted into its designated place within his Soulkeep. What caught his attention, however, was that they were all faintly golden cards.
"Hmm… Instant Cards," he mused softly, his thumb tracing the intricate designs on one of the cards. "Going by the name, I think they don't have any requirements of attunements like the other cards, and most probably one-time use." His eyes scanned over the remaining slots—five for Run cards, five for Deck cards, five for Attunement cards, and five for Instant cards.
Though tempted to experiment with the instant cards, he knew better than to rush. One step at a time.
Instead, his focus shifted to the single Deck card in his possession: [A Knight's Squire]. His heartbeat quickened as he willed the card into its slot. As it settled into his Soulkeep, he felt a shift within.
It was like a door opening to hidden skills and awareness. Standing up, his movements became more deliberate, measured, and precise. His fingers curled instinctively around the handle of the knife, now gripped with practiced familiarity.
It wasn't just knowledge; it was as if experience had been etched into his soul. The card didn't straight away make Cassian an experienced fighter or a knight, but he was somehow now aware of the natural balance in his body. Without hesitation, he imagined the monsters he had encountered earlier, and his body fell into a striking position, fluid and sure.
"Fuuu…" he exhaled, a mixture of satisfaction and wonder as he stepped forward into the dim light. In a rapid, almost reflexive sequence, his body moved: a slash here, a precise jab there, followed by a quick kick. The actions flowed seamlessly from him, as if rehearsed for years under the tutelage of a seasoned warrior. Each movement was efficient, deliberate—a dance of combat that stirred excitement deep within him.
Okay, that was something… I'm sure my kicks and attacks were nothing like that before… there was little to no strain on my body while performing the attacks. My form was perfect.
"This changes everything. It connects me, a novice who hasn't trained for a real fight, to someone with that experience," he said with a grin. The exhilaration of mastering even a fragment of combat was intoxicating. For someone who had never truly fought for survival, this card was not merely a tool; it was an awakening. His body remembered every nuance of the battle, and it sang with newfound confidence.
Yet, amid the fervor of his discovery, practicality reminded him of his mortal needs. His throat felt parched, and a dull, persistent thirst crept in. Scanning the ruined house around him, Cassian's eyes caught sight of a rusted sink tucked away in a shadowy corner. With cautious curiosity, he walked over and twisted the tap experimentally. To his relief, water began to drip—slowly, but undeniably there.
He let the water run for a moment, studying its clarity in the dim light. It appeared clean enough, a small comfort in this fractured world. His search through the wreckage of the house yielded a few dented metal bottles, relics of utility amid chaos. Carefully rinsing them, he brought one up to his nose, sniffing it as if verifying its safety.
"Nothing strange," he murmured with a wry smile.
Shrugging, he placed the bottle under the slow, steady trickle of water after letting a little water flow out, clearing out most of the dust and filth. The sound of the liquid was oddly comforting—a gentle lullaby in the midst of eerie silence.
As he waited, his thoughts turned to a crucial decision: which deck should he favor? Both the Creation and Destruction decks had their merits. The Creation deck was built for endurance—a focus on survivability, defense, and the potential for distraction via cards like Rock Golem. Yet he worried about its low charge count. Coupled with the refined instincts granted by [A Knight's Squire] and his newfound healing power, it promised a careful, measured approach.
On the other hand, the Destruction deck was aggressive and direct. Initiating with [Expedite] could boost his speed and sharpen his senses, while pairing it with [Lightning Bolt] promised a potent ranged attack. Simple, efficient, and undeniably effective.
His fingers idly tapped against the metal bottle as he pondered the choice. "Which one do I need?" he asked himself, his inner voice weighed down by both caution and ambition. The safer Creation deck beckoned with its promise of defense, while the more aggressive Destruction deck called to the part of him that craved the thrill of combat. After a long, contemplative pause, he exhaled slowly.
"…I'll start with Destruction," he decided firmly. The choice was straightforward—if Lightning Bolt didn't hit hard enough, he could always revert to a more measured approach. A small, self-assured smirk spread across his face.
"Raining lightning on my enemies… sounds kind of cool," he quipped, the excitement dancing in his eyes.
With that decision, Cassian capped the now-full bottle and took a long, refreshing swig, letting the cool water ease his parched throat. He had his cards, his abilities, and, most importantly, a plan.
Okay, assume I'm in a combat situation and I wanna change the cards… let's start with cards with Run cards.
At first, nothing happened. Then, a faint tugging sensation filled his chest, as though something were being wrenched free from within. The moment the card disengaged, the available slot in his Soulkeep grayed out ominously.
He observed the slot, counting—One second… Two seconds… Slowly, the grey began to fade, as if the Soulkeep was 'cooling down' after the sudden strain. By the time five seconds had passed, the slot flickered back to normal, ready to accept a new card.
Cassian exhaled sharply, rubbing his face in a mix of frustration and relief. "Five seconds…" he muttered. "It takes five whole seconds just to swap run cards."
"Shit, this would be risky to do mid-battle," he mused, shaking his head in resignation.
Even as practicality took over, his mind couldn't help but wander to wilder fantasies—a massive sword in his hands, the visceral thrill of cleaving through monsters with raw power. "Man… it'd be cool to slice through enemies like a badass," he murmured wistfully. Yet, a quick glance at his lean, unconditioned frame dispelled the reverie.
His stomach rumbled, a sharp reminder of his hunger, but he pushed the discomfort aside as he refilled every usable bottle he could find from the slow drip of the rusted tap, the steady sound of trickling water blending with his inner determination. Patience was a luxury he could ill afford, yet every moment spent preparing was a step closer to mastering this world.
[ DING! ⍙⟟⏁⊑ ⏃ FEELS BORED AND THEY HAVE DECLARED YOU HAVE RESTED ENOUGH ]
Cassian's eye twitched in irritation. "…The hell?" he muttered under his breath. Before he could dwell further on the absurdity, another notification burst forth.
[ DING! ⍙⟟⏁⊑ ⏃THINKS IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO TEST OUT YOUR NEW MAGICAL MIGHT AGAINST SOME ENEMIES! THEY WANT YOU TO RAIN LIGHTNING BOLTS ON THE MONSTERS WHILE LAUGHING MADLY AND SCREAMING: UNLIMITED POWER!!! ]
He stared at the glowing text, his mind racing as he reread the message over and over.
It was my choice to accept the trials… I can't say no at this point… haaa I need to learn how to fight anyway.
Taking a deep, long-drawn breath, he stretched out his arms, trying to dispel the tension.
[ DING! ⍙⟟⏁⊑ ⏃ SAYS THAT'S THE SPIRIT, HOOMAN! NOW GO! ]
…