The moment Deckard left the lighthouse, he broke into a sprint toward the rocky shoreline. Without breaking stride, he vaulted over a tide pool and dove straight into the water.

  The ocean welcomed him with a familiar chill. Sunlight fractured into gold and blue ribbons across the seafloor. He exhaled slowly, letting the oxygen tank regulate his breathing as he sank, spear gripped tight in his hands.

  He still had 5 minutes left in the tank. It was more than enough to experiment with his new weapon. He scanned the seabed. Then—movement.

  A swirl of sand. A faint, fleeting shadow near the rocks.

  He leveled his spear. "Alright, round two, turtle."

  Repeating his first approach, he dove down into the turtle from above like a hawk.

  The Trash-Eating Turtle hovered near the ocean floor, its beak snapping lazily as it chewed through a fresh pile of discarded junk.

  He kicked hard, closing the distance. As he came in range, he stabbed with the Burrowing Claw Spear, slicing through the drag as it struck the turtle.

  -12

  Finally! A solid hit.

  The turtle flinched, its round black eyes snapping toward him. It yanked its limbs into its shell, angling itself against a rock—less exposed, harder to hit.

  Deckard didn’t let up. He adjusted his grip and thrust again.

  -10

  -10

  Even though the damage was slightly reduced, it was still significant. He was dealing ten times more damage per strike compared to their last battle.

  Then—he felt it.

  A familiar tremor ran through the water. The junk around the turtle shuddered, then began to rise, swirling in a slow, menacing orbit. Off the corner of his eye, Deckard spotted a pristine bottle.

  Here we go.

  The turtle’s trash barrage erupted. Rusted nails, jagged shells, and even a barnacle-covered shoe rocketed toward him.

  He twisted mid-dodge, barely weaving between the floating debris. A broken glass shard grazed his shoulder, sending a sharp sting down his arm.

  -5

  He clenched his jaw. No time to hesitate.

  Pushing forward, he aimed for the gap between the turtle’s shell and its head.

  -14

  The turtle recoiled. More objects rose from the seabed, swirling faster, as if pulled into a vortex.

  He braced himself.

  This time, I’m ready.

  The second wave came. A metal fork spun past his face, a tin can ricocheted off his vest, and a chunk of coral slammed into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.

  -6

  It hurt, but he wasn’t retreating this time.

  Healing Ray!

  +10

  His wounds mended. His grip tightened on the spear.

  I’ve got the sustain. Now I just need the opening.

  The moment the turtle’s attack subsided, he kicked off the seabed and surged forward, spear poised.

  -15

  The turtle lurched, limbs flailing for balance as it recoiled. Its HP was dropping—slowly, but surely. He didn’t ease up. Stab. Dodge. Stab again. The Burrowing Claw Spear was making a difference, but the water still fought him. Every movement felt heavy, sluggish, as if the ocean itself resisted his efforts.

  -10

  -10

  The turtle let out a final, garbled groan before its body shuddered and went still. A faint glow pulsed along its form, shimmering brighter with each passing second until it finally broke apart into motes of golden light. As the stirred water cleared, it left behind a few scattered coins and a large, cracked piece of shell that wobbled slightly as it began to sink.

  The battle wasn't easy, even with the spear.

  Fighting underwater wasn’t just about aiming—it was about endurance. He glanced at his health and energy bars. Both were dangerously low. Every movement drained him more than he expected. Still, he’d done it. His first real underwater hunt.

  He reached for the loot, snatching the Cracked Shell before it could drift too far.

  Cracked Shell (Common)

  Description: A piece of turtle shell that can be used for crafting.

  It had to be worth something. He’d keep it to sell later. What he really wanted was a card, but getting one on his first try would’ve been too lucky.

  He was able to deal with one in under five minutes. Not bad. But his tank was bone dry. His vision was beginning to flash red. He had to take a break.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Just as he was about to make it to the surface, he received a notification, and his vision stopped flashing. He looked over at his oxygen levels and found that they were back up in the green again.

  What just happened?

  He opened the notification.

  You’ve unlocked a new title: [Osmotic Skin]

  Osmotic Skin (Common)

  Description: Prolonged exposure to the ocean has triggered cellular mutations, allowing your skin to passively absorb oxygen from the surrounding water. Your body is adapting to life beneath the waves.

  Effects:

  Doubles lung capacity;

  Diving items gain a +5-minute oxygen bonus.

  Conditions to unlock:

  Spend 5 hours underwater. {Complete}

  Five hours? Have I really spent that long underwater already?

  He hadn’t expected to receive a title like this, but he wasn’t about to complain. With no equipment, he could now last two minutes beneath the surface. More importantly, his oxygen tank now gave him a full 5 more minutes of air.

  I can hunt four turtles per dive now! This was going to make things much easier.

  Still grinning from the reward, he caught sight of another plume of sand in the distance. Another turtle and just enough oxygen left in the tank. He adjusted his grip on the spear and swam toward it.

  *

  Deckard took a slow sip of coffee, eyes locked on yet another video of a Turtle Mother hunt.

  Two days had passed since he’d started hunting turtles, yet the junkyard set remained incomplete.

  Ever since obtaining his [Oxygen-Dented Tank], he’d been researching its tactical applications, looking for ways to refine his amphibious play style. His growing experience and underwater bonuses might just give him the edge he needed when the time came to compete for the wild boss.

  On the screen, the scene unfolded. A team of players lurking on the reef suddenly swarmed onto a raft, striking while the crew was distracted, their focus locked on the Turtle Mother. The ambush was swift, ruthless—by the time the crew realized what was happening, the attackers had already closed the distance. Blades clashed, and bursts of energy lit up Shell Bay in the moonlight.

  But the defenders were seasoned. They adjusted fast. A storm of counterattacks turned the tide, and within moments, the would-be hijackers were cut down and flung overboard.

  “Nice covert attack. Shame it didn’t work out for them.”

  Beep! Beep!

  An alarm cut through the quiet of his apartment, snapping him out of his thoughts. He frowned and paused the video.

  Guess it’s time to go turtle-hunting again.

  Draining the last of his coffee, he set the mug in the sink and headed toward the capsule.

  He logged back in submerged—a neat little trick he’d picked up recently. Instead of resurfacing and diving back in after every break, he could simply log out and log back in. It saved him the trip up and down. More importantly, his tank still recharged while he was offline, saving him precious minutes of oxygen.

  He searched for prey but found no signs of turtles nearby. Without hesitation, he kicked off and swam forward.

  The physicality of AstroTerra was something he hadn’t expected when he first started—how the game made him feel every swimming stroke, every dive, every long trek across the island. It wasn’t just button presses and calculated card plays. It was movement, exploration, and—he was starting to realize—a whole lot of patience.

  Who would have thought Terralore would demand this much grinding?

  Nova Cardia had its grindy moments, sure. The game’s monthly reset had been brutal, wiping ranks clean and forcing every competitive player to claw their way back up. He had never let himself fall behind—Heavenly Rank was the only acceptable outcome. No matter how many matches it took, he always made it.

  And then there was the pack opening grind.

  His completionist tendencies had demanded he finish every set. It hadn’t been enough to just have a viable deck—he needed all the cards. He still remembered that one epic card from the Broken Tide set that refused to drop. Dozens of packs, hundreds of gold, the sheer agony of watching every flip reveal anything but the one he needed.

  His eye twitched at the memory. He had been so close to flipping his desk back then.

  Still, he tried to keep his thoughts from spiraling into frustration.

  For one, even though he was grinding, AstroTerra made the process fun. This wasn’t some tedious menu-driven slog or pack-flipping nightmare. Here, he got to move, to explore, to see new things. He wasn’t stuck staring at endless digital interfaces. Instead, he was in a vast tropical world.

  What else could he ask for?

  And second—if he was being honest with himself—there was nothing quite like the feeling of finally landing that one last card. The moment when all the effort, all the searching, all the frustration paid off. When he could flip through his collection and see the full set, every piece in its rightful place.

  After hunting turtles, he had already obtained a second [Scavenge] card.

  After swimming a little, he finally spotted signs of movement.

  There.

  A telltale sand cloud drifting in lazy spirals. He adjusted his hold on the weaponas he kicked forward through the water, closing the distance to his target.

  Trash-Eating Turtle

  Lvl. 5

  HP: 300

  The turtle, seeing him approach aggressively, tensed before retreating into its shell, its stubby limbs vanishing.

  Here we go.

  He closed the distance, spear in hand. He had learned by now that fighting these turtles was less a test of agility and more of an all-in, senseless brawl. They threw everything they had at each other, and Deckard waited for his superior stats to outdo the turtle’s.

  He thrust the spear forward.

  -12

  -11

  The impact reverberated through his arms, the spearhead scraping against the dense, algae-covered shell. It was a tough defense, but he just needed to keep whittling it down.

  The seabed stirred. Loose bits of trash began to lift into the water. One by one, the debris whipped toward him.

  -6

  -6

  “Argh!” he gritted his teeth as a rusty tin can bounced off his shoulder, followed by a piece of driftwood that smacked against his ribs.

  Tch. Its telekinesis is so annoying!

  The most annoying thing about it was that when he tried to throw cards underwater, they sank or wobbled as if they were wet paper. However, the turtle made the projectiles fly true as if they were torpedoes!

  Ducking and weaving were useless. The sluggish drag of the water slowed his movements too much, making dodging more effort than it was worth. Instead, he powered through, ignoring the stinging blows.

  The turtle trembled under the continued barrage of stabs. He pressed the attack, each strike shaving off more and more of its HP.

  The final blow connected.

  The turtle shuddered, letting out a soft, watery grunt before dissolving into motes of blue light. The remnants of its shell sank to the seabed, along with a scattering of coins. Sadly, there was no card. It wasn’t going to be this turtle, either.

  He was just about to retrieve the spoils when a notification popped up.

  You’ve unlocked a new title: [Scuba Fighter]

  Scuba Fighter (Common)

  You’ve learned how to fend for yourself underwater, making the water work for you instead of against you.

  Effects:

  Water resistance against weapons is reduced.

  Stamina consumption while swimming is slightly reduced.

  Conditions to unlock [Scuba Fighter]:

  Defeat 100 enemies underwater. {complete}

  He blinked. Had he taken down a hundred turtles already?

  Sweet! A new title!

  It was a nice addition to [Osmotic Skin].

  Curious, he swung his spear experimentally.

  The weapon sliced through the water with ease, stirring up a small cloud of debris from the junk-covered seabed.

  It feels so much lighter! If swinging weapons is easier… what about card throwing?

  Deckard put the spear away and pulled a card from his deck. Holding it between his fingers, he flicked his wrist and released it.

  It flew a solid meter, maintaining a respectable speed before the water finally dragged it down.

  It still wasn’t battle-worthy. But it was certainly progress. If he could unlock a couple more underwater titles or maybe even learn a relevant skill, he might be able to attack from range while underwater.

  Satisfied, he turned his gaze back to the ocean floor. Another swirling sand cloud had appeared in the distance.

  He kicked off, swimming toward his next target.

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