Deckard ran his thumb over the smooth edges of the Sea Ghoul card. His eyes lingered on the green gem nestled in the bottom-left corner, marking it as a rare card.

  Sea Ghoul ??

  Rarity: Rare

  Type: Creature

  Affinity: ??

  Cost: 3

  Points: 1

  Effect: Silence all other creatures. Reverse debuffs on allied creatures into buffs. +1 point for each reversal.

  A smile spread across his face. “OK! That’s awesome.”

  Now, it all made sense. Until now, every seagull card had been painfully underwhelming—weak stats, crippling debuffs, barely worth their cost. But Sea Ghoul changed everything.

  This card was the linchpin. A single card capable of turning an otherwise laughable deck into something devastating. He could already picture the scene: a board flooded with underwhelming seagulls, then him dropping this card for a swing that could decide the game.

  “Silence everything and turn garbage into gold.” His grin widened. “Interesting card.”

  But there were at least two problems.

  First, a deck built around Sea Ghoul would require a lot of setting up—more than the game might allow. The card’s effect was incredible, but relying on it meant playing from behind until it hit the board. Surviving long enough to flood the field with seagulls and timing the Sea Ghoul perfectly could go south, fast. If he had played this deck against Ratu’s quick fox strategy, he would have lost.

  The second problem was the card’s predictability. Anyone familiar with the game’s card base would recognize the strategy the moment they saw only seagulls hitting the board. A veteran player would see the Sea Ghoul seagull combo coming from a mile away and adjust accordingly, either rushing down the player before the combo could be executed or preparing counters.

  Still, the card’s potential was undeniable. Sea Ghoul could be a powerful tech card even outside of a dedicated seagull deck. Silencing all creatures could shut down entire strategies while leaving a body on the board. It was versatile and disruptive. It was the kind of card he liked—one that could flip the script when things seemed bleak.

  “I might just play it,” he muttered, sliding the card into his binder.

  You’ve expanded your collection.

  +0.5% attack speed.

  Deckard made his way to the pile of loot left behind by the boss, his boots crunching against the scattered eggshells. His eyes darted over the items, scanning for the one thing he’d been hoping for.

  When he spotted the boots glimmering in the pile, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  "It did drop, after all," he whispered, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out.

  He crouched down, carefully picking them up as if they might break in his hands. There was only a 10% chance of the [Sea Wind Boots] dropping, whether from the elites or the dungeon boss itself. That kind of rarity usually meant disappointment. But not today.

  Sea Wind Boots (Uncommon)

  Description: Boots crafted from the hide of a seagull, reinforced with feathers.

  Effects: +10% movement speed.

  [Light as a Feather]: Active skill. Lose half your weight for 10 seconds. Cooldown: 30 minutes.

  Deckard turned the boots over, marveling at how light they were. It was an uncommon piece of equipment, though it didn’t look like much at first glance. The dull white leather reminded him of the whitewashed buildings in Stiltwave village, which had been burnt by the tropical sun. It was almost as if they dusted with chalk.

  “This is the missing ingredient,” he said to himself as he equipped the boots.

  He flexed his toes experimentally, noting how perfectly the boots molded to his feet. They felt impossibly light, as though they were barely there.

  For one thing, this pair of boots didn’t come with the usual stat bonuses. Instead, every ounce of its value was poured into its two effects.

  The +10% movement speed buff alone made it worth it to Deckard. It would let him evade enemies more easily, kite bosses more safely, and make dungeon runs faster. But it was the active skill that made this item genuinely precious.

  [Light as a Feather]—an item skill. Losing half his weight for 10 seconds was brilliant. The possibilities spun through his mind: jumping higher to avoid attacks, evading traps triggered by heavy footsteps, or even surviving a fall down a cliff.

  Like his [Spider Ring], though, the cooldown was punishingly long. Thirty minutes meant he’d have to save the skill for critical moments.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  As he examined the boots, he couldn’t help but think of his previous dungeon run with Tristan, carried by Orson and his gang. Tristan had called dibs on equipment drops and would have claimed these boots back then. If he’d run this dungeon with someone else, chances were there would’ve been an argument—or worse, a fight—over who got them. Valuable loot like this didn’t come without drama.

  “It’s a good thing I ran this solo,” Deckard said, his smile returning as he admired the boots again. No debates. No one to muscle in on his prize.

  He activated [Light as a Feather] for the first time. In an instant, his body felt almost weightless. The buff had only 10 seconds, so he moved quickly. Sprinting forward, each step propelled him farther than the last. He pivoted sharply, testing his control, and then crouched low before springing into a jump. He felt like a cat, bouncing effortlessly.

  “Oh yeah,” he said with a chuckle, landing softly. “These are gonna be super useful.”

  The buff wore off, and the familiar weight of the world returned, but his grin stayed. With his new boots, Deckard felt ready for whatever challenges awaited him.

  The boss had dropped more than just the boots. Among the scattered loot was a consumable—a small, shimmering vial with pitch-black liquid swirling ominously inside.

  Deckard’s eyes lit up as he recognized the swirling vial. This was why the veterans in his earlier run had been so eager to farm this dungeon for their guilds.

  “They said it allows access to a hidden map,” he murmured, turning the vial over in his hands. “I wonder what kind of map it is and why guilds would pay entire teams to grind for this item.” He didn’t hesitate and pocketed the vial.

  “Two dungeons down,” Deckard muttered to himself.

  He opened his menu, navigating to the exit option. With a soft chime, he confirmed his choice, and the system transported him out of Gull Rock.

  As Deckard stepped out of the dungeon’s entrance, the harsh light of the outside world greeted him. The salty breeze of the coastline was back, but its sound was muted under the buzz of conversations. Dozens of players clustered around the entrance, talking strategy and preparing for the challenge he’d just overcome.

  The energy was electric. Everyone had their own goals: loot, experience, or just bragging rights. But Deckard had already achieved his.

  Exhaustion weighed on him. Yet, as he looked at the players around him—some curious, others excited—a small smile tugged at his lips.

  He’d succeeded.

  This dungeon wasn’t designed for solo players. It required the cooperation of several skilled adventurers working in tandem to survive. And yet, he had done it. Solo.

  And not just that—he’d done it faster than the Molting Grotto. Part of the credit went to his [Lone Wolf] title, which amplified his abilities when running dungeons alone. But it wasn’t just the title. His perseverance had unlocked new tools, like the lottery skill [Heavy Shot], and he’d learned how to stand toe-to-toe with elites and bosses without getting himself killed.

  The smile grew as he thought about Savy.

  I can’t wait to rub this in his face.

  This wasn’t just about clearing a dungeon or securing rare loot. It was about proving to himself that he could do it—that his planning, patience, and persistence were enough to make him not just a good Terralore player but a good AstroTerra player.

  He savored the moment, tempted to log off, but his visit to his mother and Uncle Arnold still weighed on him. He would keep playing.

  As he began his walk back to Stiltwave Village, the familiar sound of waves crashing in the distance accompanied his thoughts. He still had work to do—wild elites to hunt and the seagull and crab sets to complete.

  The stroll from Gull Rock to Stiltwave Village was just the rest Deckard’s weary mind needed. The rhythmic crash of waves against the distant shore and the rustle of palm fronds overhead soothed his taut nerves.

  Running dungeons solo had its perks—no need to split the loot, no dealing with unreliable teammates—but it was taxing. Deckard always had to remain on high alert, with every encounter being a potential death sentence. The margin for error was razor-thin, and with bosses, it was even worse. One slip, one poorly timed dodge, or mistargeted skill, and it could all be over.

  Moreover, this wasn’t just a game to him. This was his job. His life. He had bills to pay.

  And here I am, about to make my life even harder and add players to the mix.

  Deckard exhaled through his nose, the thought swirling in his mind. He couldn’t keep avoiding the wild elites. His progress depended on completing the island's sets. Two were tantalizingly close to completion—each missing just two wild elite cards.

  The potential to unlock additional skills was vital to his progress. But wild elites weren’t like regular dungeon bosses. They came with their own set of problems—problems that didn’t involve monsters but people.

  Players turned on each other. Alliances were formed and broken instantly, greed stripping away whatever pretense of fair play players liked to put on. Disputes could get ugly fast, and Deckard hated it. He preferred the clean predictability of cards and numbers to the chaotic, sometimes cruel nature of other players.

  He thought back to the encounter he’d witnessed when picking up coconuts and training his card throws: opportunistic players backstabbing each other mid-fight, alliances dissolving the moment loot hit the ground.

  Hopefully, the combo I’ve prepared will be enough to overcome this hurdle.

  As he neared the coconut trees, the familiar sight of ragtag players greeted him. Everyone was dressed in mismatched beginner gear, a mix of scavenged drops, and cheap vendor purchases. They picked up coconuts scattered on the ground, their movements casual, but their eyes told a different story. Everyone was watching everyone else, glancing over their shoulders, keeping tabs.

  He opened his binder, double-checking the Coconut Seagull entry. The card drawing was nearly complete, the grayed-out lines vivid and well-defined. He grinned. With his degree of Understanding, his chances of capturing it were good.

  Deckard headed right toward where the Coconut Seagull usually spawned. Now, all he had to do was wait. Lay low. Blend in.

  He crouched to pick up coconuts, working methodically, keeping his head down and his movements unremarkable. He looked like a player just here picking up coconuts to anyone watching.

  Minutes ticked by. Players came and went, and Deckard kept at his task, waiting for the moment to strike.

  Finally, the air shifted.

  Deckard glanced up just in time to see motes of light gathering a short distance away. They swirled and converged, taking shape, and a sturdy, large seagull with a coconut perched snugly on its head emerged from the glow.

  Coconut Seagull (Elite)

  Deckard’s heart quickened. The hunt was on.

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