The red trail ended at the mouth of a natural cavern. Two broad-shouldered NPCs flanked the entrance, arms folded. They wore faded security vests, stun batons strapped to their belts. A flickering bulb buzzed overhead, casting jittery shadows across the stone.
Deckard approached, inspecting the two guards.
Humpty, The Gaming Parlor Bruiser
Lvl. 60
Dumpty, The Gaming Parlor Bruiser
Lvl. 60
Just as he was about to step forward, one of them spoke.
“Evenin’ to you, sir,” said Humpty, his voice a soft, polite tenor—almost sing-song. “First time with us, is it? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of seein’ you before.”
“I’m looking for the Gaming Parlor,” Deckard said.
“Oh, lovely! Did you hear that, Dumpty? This fine gent’s lookin’ for the Parlor. One more player, in he goes!”
“Hmmm,” Dumpty replied, a weary grunt his only contribution.
“You’ve found the right place, sir. Straight through the cave and them curtains. You’ll find all sorts inside—tournaments, casual games, bit of everything really. Folks come and go all the time.” He nodded toward the stream of players slipping in and out. “Buzzin’, it is.”
“I—”
“And do let me reassure you,” Humpty continued, hands folded neatly in front of him. “I know the neighborhood’s not exactly inviting, but you’ve nothing to worry about. My brother and I, we see to it folks get here and back safe and sound. No trouble at all.”
“Uh—thanks,” Deckard said.
“Isn’t that right, Dumpty?” Humpty beamed at his brother. “We take good care of our guests. Don’t we?”
Dumpty gave a single grunt and a slow nod, like that settled it.
“There we are, then,” Humpty said, stepping aside with a gracious sweep of his arm. “Dumpty here’s even placed some scented candles inside the cave to keep the stench of these filthy slums out. Haven’t you, Dumpty?”
“Hmmm…”
“Bloke’s got a good nose, he does. Now, do enjoy yourself, sir. And if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to give us a shout.”
Deckard nodded and made his way past.
“Don’t forget to have fun!” Humpty called after him, bright as ever.
As Deckard entered the cave, he could just make out Humpty’s voice echoing behind him, already welcoming the next player.
He stepped inside, still faintly amused. Friendly guards. Who would’ve thought?
Inside the cavern, the air shifted—cooler, quieter, dimmer. A clean scent lingered, a welcome change from the stale stench outside. Vanilla-scented candles burned in shallow niches along the stone walls, their soft flames casting gentle light that danced across the rock.
Humpty wasn’t kidding, Deckard thought. Dumpty really did put out candles.
Ahead, a trio of teens chatted excitedly about a recent dungeon run as they approached a heavy red curtain. One by one, they slipped through without hesitation. A bluish glow spilled out as they passed—faint and flickering, like the light from Terralore’s holographs.
Deckard stopped just shy of the curtain. His breath caught.
This is it.
He’d spent a full month working his way here—the place that had drawn him to AstroTerra in the first place.
He needed to start making money. He needed to help Mom. And Uncle Arnold. If he was going to make anything of himself, it had to start here. In this room. In the game within the game.
He exhaled, lifted the curtain, and stepped inside.
The cavern opened into an impossibly vast chamber, tiled in soft light blue. It looked far too large to exist beneath the city, as if the developers had folded space to make it fit—bending the game’s rules just enough to cram an entire arena complex into the bedrock.
Dozens—maybe hundreds—of square arenas were sunken into the floor, each about three meters wide, bordered with glowing LED strips. At each one, players stood across from each other, cards in hand. With every match, blue-tinged holograms sprang to life: stone walls, towering castles, creatures crackling into form midair. Attacks collided with thunderous sparks and digital shockwaves.
Some games drew crowds—spectators shouting, groaning, tossing out advice.
“You played right into his trap, Jamie!” one of them yelled, as a holographic serpent coiled and struck.
Other matches were hidden behind shimmering cubes of static. All Deckard could see inside were blurry outlines.
Along the walls and ceiling, oversized screens tracked tournament brackets, flashed stats, and cycled through card images, each tagged with a letter and number. Faint music pulsed through the space—bass-heavy, steady, hypnotic.
Nearby, a row of glowing terminals lined one wall, their interfaces pulsing with soft blue light, like high-end ticket machines in some futuristic station.
Deckard spotted three kiosks spaced around the complex, each manned by a team of NPCs in sleek modern suits. For a moment, he blinked. They wouldn’t have looked out of place in the real world. It made him wonder: Was this still AstroTerra, or had he somehow logged out?
But he hadn’t.
He took a slow breath.
I’m finally here.
It felt like stepping into a dream he hadn’t known he’d been having. Like his body had been waiting for this moment.
This was the heart of Aquascape’s card scene. Where tournaments happened. Where a card-playing career could begin again.
Where he belonged.
He’d made it to the Gaming Parlor.
Deckard strolled through the arena, taking it all in. He glanced at a few of the uncovered matches, exchanged friendly nods with other players. One paused, staring a moment too long—recognition flickering in his eyes, but not quite taking hold.
Definitely a Nova Cardia fan, Deckard thought. To recognize him despite the tweaked features and fantasy getup, that player must have watched more than a few Nova Cardia championships.
Crossing the floor, Deckard approached one of the kiosks. A young woman stood behind the counter, her hair neatly tied back, dressed in a crisp black business suit. She looked remarkably similar to the rep who’d been to his apartment on the day they dropped the gaming capsule.
An NPC tag floated over her:
Janine, a Gaming Parlor Staff Member
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Lvl. 30
“Greetings, sir,” she said with a polished smile. “How can we assist you today?”
“I’d like to register as a Terralore player.”
“Of course. To sign up, there’s a small fee, and we’ll need to verify that you have a playable deck.”
Deckard placed his deck on the counter. Janine gave it a quick once-over, then nodded approvingly.
“Very good. That’ll be fifty coppers.”
He slid the coins across the counter, watching as her fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard.
“What name would you like to display while playing Terralore, sir?”
“StubbornTiger,” he said, using the nickname his fans knew him by.
“Very well!”
You’ve unlocked a new title: [Terralore Player].
Terralore Player (Common)
You’ve taken your first steps into Terralore—the most popular card game in the world of AstroTerra.
Title effects:
+1% chance of cards dropping.
Conditions to unlock [Terralore Player]:
Register at a Gaming Parlor. {complete}
It was a nifty little title. Even players who had no interest in Terralore came here just to unlock it. Fifty coppers for a title that increased card drop rates? Hard to beat.
“You’re all set,” Janine said brightly. “Would you like a walkthrough of how the Gaming Parlor works?”
Deckard hesitated. He’d read plenty of guides and forum posts, but guides often skipped the little things—details that seemed obvious to veterans. He nodded. “Please.”
“All games take place in the Central Arena,” she began, gesturing toward the glowing squares spread across the floor. “The arena’s divided into sections. Near the entrance, you’ll find the casual zone—perfect for testing your deck or playing with friends. These are marked with green LEDs. If you forget, signage and arena prompts will remind you what mode you're in.”
“Got it.”
“Ranked matches are held in the red zones. To enter one, you place a card in the pot—it’s your price of entry. The winner takes the pot. You also earn league points with each win. Common cards are worth 1 point, uncommon 2, rare 5, epic 20, and legendary 100. The more you’re willing to risk, the faster you can climb.”
She pointed toward a cluster of large screens. “To see which cards are being offered, check the listings there. Each match has a code. Just say ‘Reserve’ and the code out loud—the system will register you and guide you to the corresponding arena. Or, if you’d rather, you can start your own match by placing a card and waiting for a challenger.”
Everything tracked so far.
“Quick question—what if there aren’t enough players around?”
Janine laughed softly. “Oh, I assure you, that’s very unlikely. But in the rare case it happens, some of our staff members love to play and are more than happy to accommodate. We wouldn’t want any of our patrons to feel bored at the Gaming Parlor.”
“That’s… good to know,” Deckard said.
“Competitions run across three tiers,” Janine continued. “The City League is exclusive to Aquascape. The Regional League spans all of the Water Caves. The World League—hosted in the capital—is the highest. Advancement is performance-based: at the end of each month, the top ten percent move up, and the bottom ten percent drop. You can only play ranked games against others in your current league.”
“Got it,” Deckard said with a nod.
“There are also private tournaments,” she added. “Organizers can reserve rooms and customize participation, prizes, entry fees, and so on.”
Deckard’s gaze drifted toward a set of high-end doors at the far end of the room. That’s where the real money would be.
Janine went on. “Beyond ranked play and tournaments, we offer two additional services: card trades and wagers.”
That caught his attention. This part was new.
“How do those work?”
“Trades are posted at the console stations. Players list what they want and what they’re offering. If someone accepts, the system handles the exchange automatically.”
“And wagers?”
“Some players bet on other players’ matches—cards, gear, gold, anything. The Parlor tracks the bets and enforces payouts automatically.”
Deckard’s mouth tightened slightly. That was new. And intriguing.
“You’ve been very helpful,” he said.
Janine smiled again, perfectly professional. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Deckard stepped away from the kiosk, cracking his knuckles. He still had one last stop to make in Aquascape—but now that he was here, he couldn’t leave without having a little fun.
Just one game.
He walked toward the nearest unoccupied square, marked by red LEDs. As he approached, a soft chime rang out.
Would you like to play a ranked game?
He tapped Yes.
Place a card in the pot.
Deckard opened his inventory and sorted through his duplicates. He selected a [Diseased Seagull] and dropped it into the square. The floor lit up, and the card rose slowly into the air, spinning lazily at the center.
A menu appeared, displaying wager preferences—filters for the kinds of cards he was willing to accept in the pot. He could limit it to creatures, skills, specific affinities, or cards he didn’t own yet. Deckard tapped the last option: new cards only. If he was going to risk something, it might as well help grow his collection.
Looking for a challenger…
The Diseased Seagull’s card art appeared on a nearby display. Deckard tapped his foot, waiting. A few seconds passed.
The arena flashed—another card had joined the pot, floating beside his.
Ignite
Rarity: Common
Type: Skill
Affinity: ??
Cost: 1
Effect: Burn. -2 to an enemy defending creature for one turn.
Burn? He tapped for the tooltip.
Burn – You may pay this card’s cost using health instead of cards.
Interesting.
Since he didn’t own [Ignite], he accepted the challenge.
Before long, a teenage girl approached and took her place across from him. A streak of red ran through her dark hair, bold and unashamed. “Hey!” she said cheerfully.
“Hi there,” Deckard replied with a nod.
You’re about to begin a ranked game. The winner takes the pot and earns one league point.
Allow spectators?
Deckard tapped No and saved that as the default. Immediately, the area around them shimmered—static cloaked their arena from outside view. They could still see out, but no one could see in.
Game starts in 3… 2… 1…
StubbornTiger vs. FireFox!
The Terralore arena shimmered into existence, structures snapping together piece by piece: two castles facing one another, with glowing lanes between them. The system dealt four cards.
Deckard studied his opening hand. Time to play.
He placed [Harmonious Island] in his defending lane.
The Reveal Phase began. Across from him, three enemy cards shimmered into his defending lane.
Deckard frowned. Three? That shouldn’t be possible. Players start with four cards in hand. Unless... Burn! The keyword!
His Island resolved first—waves rippled across the arena floor, palm trees sprouting around his castle. Sand spread beneath his feet, and the soft hiss of surf echoed with each swell.
Then her side lit up in red. Two creatures emerged:
Cinder Firefly
Rarity: Common
Type: Creature
Affinity: ??
Cost: 2
Points: 1
Effect: Burn. When an ally Burn creature enters the game, gain one point for the turn.
Lantern Firefly
Rarity: Common
Type: Creature
Affinity: ??
Cost: 3
Points: 2
Effect: Burn.
The air rippled as the fireflies materialized—large, luminous insects with burning cores inside their glassy abdomens. The [Cinder Firefly] crackled like a live coal, while the [Lantern Firefly] glowed with steady, molten heat, casting flickering light across the field. They rose into the air, wings humming with heat.
Her health dropped to 5—the Burn keyword had claimed its cost. One card remained face down—a trap.
The fireflies streaked toward his castle, striking with explosive flashes. Deckard’s HP dropped to 6.
He exhaled slowly. That had been a powerful opening. When he looked up, the girl was staring at his castle, pale and trembling, finger raised.
“L-l-l-legenda-da-ry?!”
Deckard sighed. “Yes. It’s legendary.”
She blinked rapidly, trying to collect herself, but her jaw was still hanging open.
Deckard turned back to the board. In one turn, she’d set herself up for lethal on turn two. Aggro decks were ruthless.
But he had answers.
As Round 2 began, he played a card into his defending lane. This girl was in for a surprise.
