HC: Card Slinger | Ch. 69 - GM

After its clash with the Kraken’s farming team, the Red Macaw moved on—first to the Ogres, then to the Gorgons.

Deckard watched as it stretched its massive wings.

“Watch out! Feather storm incoming!” someone shouted from afar as the players scattered.

The Red Macaw snapped its wings shut with a powerful jolt, sending a gust of wind and a flurry of razor-sharp feathers slamming into the retreating team.

It spread its wings wide again and let out a piercing caw—loud, defiant, and final.

Deckard’s gaze narrowed. That move meant one thing: it was preparing to change locations.

He bit his lip. The Red Macaw’s health hovered in that perfect sweet spot between green and yellow—ideal for capture. But with at least ten other teams lingering nearby, what if the boss didn’t come their way?

He’d held it together through all the Cerberus team’s prodding, but he didn’t think he could take two more hours sitting next to Marty. The guy just wouldn’t stop talking.

If something doesn’t happen now, I’ll just log out and come back when the wild boss spawns.

Then, as if answering his thoughts, the Red Macaw turned sharply and charged—thundering across the terrain, straight toward them.

“Alright, everyone! Brace for impact. Stay sharp,” Rook barked, shooting a quick glance at Deckard.

Deckard smirked. They were itching to see how he pulled it off. He could feel their attention split between the charging boss and him.

The Red Macaw closed in fast.

It lashed out with brutal precision—jabbing its beak like a lance and swiping with sword-like talons. It charged in short bursts, using its bulk and surprising speed to chase the players. Every time it struck the ground, the impact sent tremors through the dirt.

But the Cerberus team didn’t falter. They had fought this boss dozens of times, maybe more. They read its movements like a book—sidestepping just before a charge, ducking a talon swipe the moment before it struck, scattering when it pecked.

They put on an incredible show. But despite their brilliant defense, their attacks were measured, half-hearted. At this point, every bit of damage dealt only brought the boss closer to death—and closer to being looted by someone else. Better to stall, avoid, and let the fight drag on until fortune circled back their way. And, of course, to keep a close eye on Deckard.

He waited.

The Cerberus team began to glance at each other, puzzled by his inaction. They knew the Red Macaw’s every move, but they still couldn’t afford to drop their guard. It only needed two or three solid hits to take any of them out.

Deckard was waiting for his cue.

The Red Macaw flared its wings—feathers bristling, a storm about to break. That was the sign.

The Cerberus team scattered instinctively.

Seawind Boots!

Seagull Dash!

Deckard sprinted straight toward the Red Macaw.

“Wait!” Rook called out behind him.

Too late.

With the Cerberus team now behind him and the Red Macaw’s spread wings shielding him from view, Deckard had vanished into the perfect blind spot—hidden in plain sight.

Subdimensionalize!

A burst of blinding light erupted around the Red Macaw. The vortex tore open the space around it, feathers whipping outward as the air cracked and shimmered. The boss thrashed, defiant to the end—but its health had already been whittled down. Deckard’s Understanding had reached its peak.

With a final, furious caw, the Red Macaw vanished in a ripple of light and wind—leaving behind a pristine pile of loot.

Deckard stored the new card in his inventory just as the rest of the Cerberus team arrived.

They skidded to a halt, wide-eyed, scanning the now-empty space where the boss had been.

Rook’s nostrils flared. His mouth opened, then shut. He looked not just surprised—but betrayed. His gaze locked on Deckard, disbelief etched into every line of his face.

“What just happened?” someone shouted from the side.
“Is the boss… gone?”

Confusion rippled across the battlefield as the other players tried to make sense of what they'd seen.

Deckard allowed himself the barest smile, then nodded toward the loot. “Aren’t you going to grab that? Don’t blame me if someone else beats you to it.”

Rook snapped his head toward the horizon. Sure enough, figures were already moving in—fast.

“Everyone! Quick!” Rook barked.

From what Deckard had seen during his time in the Cawldera, farming teams operated under a quiet, mutual understanding: don’t steal from each other’s kills. Maybe it was a mix of professional courtesy and pragmatism—after all, looting someone else’s boss didn’t get you more scarlet marrows. It just burned bridges and sparked drama.

The players now rushing in for the loot were likely independents—outsiders, not clued into the etiquette of the grind.

Marty and two others dashed forward, scooping up every last glowing item before hurrying back. The latecomers skidded to a stop, one of them cursing under their breath, another kicking at the dust.

Deckard stayed where he was, hands relaxed, heart pounding beneath a mask of calm.

He let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

It had worked.

“Hey, Rook!” someone called.

Three players approached, each clad in gear dropped by the Red Macaw. On their shoulders, Deckard spotted the distinctive insignias of their guilds: the coiled tentacle of the Krakens, the braided serpents of the Gorgons, and the jagged eye of the Basilisks.

From their confident gait and the way they spoke to Rook, Deckard figured they were the team leaders of their respective guilds’ farming squads.

“You guys killed the boss? How? It still had plenty of health!” said the Kraken team leader, eyes narrowing beneath a plume-trimmed helm.

“Was it a glitch?” added the Gorgon team leader, scanning the battlefield with suspicion.

Rook shot a glance at Deckard, jaw tight. “Maybe it was.”

Deckard exhaled quietly. None of the other team leaders even considered that someone from the Cerberus camp could have finished off the boss. That was a good sign. It meant his trick had worked—and he was going to get away with it.

The Basilisk team leader stepped forward. “Hold on. I’m calling a GM.”

Deckard had considered slipping away immediately—his instincts told him to vanish before anyone started asking too many questions. But leaving now would only draw attention. Besides, he still needed to collect the two cards dropped by the Red Macaw from Rook. And the GM was bound to confirm it wasn’t a glitch. If he let something slip... Deckard had to be here to hear it.

Moments later, a figure clad in golden armor and wielding a massive spear materialized in the center of the group.

“I am Jason, the GM,” he announced, his tone courteous but clipped. There were no fireworks, no fanfare—just a quiet hum of authority. “How can I assist you today?”

“Hello, Jason,” one of the team leaders said. “We were fighting the Red Macaw, and it just vanished—even though it still had over half its health.”

“Yeah,” added another. “It looked like a glitch.”

Jason nodded, already opening a console only he could see. “Understood. Please give me a moment while I review the event log.”

His eyes turned stark white, glowing faintly in the dim battlefield light.

Deckard’s heart hammered in his chest. He kept his posture loose, trying not to shift his weight or clench his hands. Rook, on the other hand, looked like he was chewing nails—and glaring daggers at Deckard. Not subtly, either. His gaze was sharp and unrelenting, as if daring the others to put two and two together.

One of the team leaders followed the glare. “Is that a new guy?”

Rook paused for just a beat—tied down by a contract that would rain legal fire on him if broken. Then, with a strained breath, he forced out a single word.

“Yes.”

The team leader chuckled. “I get you. The new guys drive me crazy too. Don’t worry—he’ll settle in. Even a guy with zero talent can do alright if you stick him on one boss.”

Deckard nearly sagged with relief. Rook’s glare had been misread. Completely.

Good. Let it stay that way.

Jason’s eyes returned to normal.

“Thank you for waiting. I’ve reviewed the logs. I can confirm that the boss’s defeat occurred entirely within system parameters. No anomalies were detected.”

“What?” one of the leaders exclaimed. “How could anyone one-shot that thing?”

Jason gave a professional, if slightly tired, smile. “If you have no further concerns, I’ll return to my duties. Enjoy the game.”

With a flicker of light, he vanished.

“That’s it?” someone muttered.

“What just happened?”

“Don’t ask me,” another grumbled. “Ask the guy with the glowing clipboard.”

“Rook, this happened right next to your team. You must’ve seen something.”

“I did not,” Rook said through gritted teeth, shooting one last frustrated look at Deckard.

Deckard shrugged.

That much was true. He hadn’t seen anything.

Once the other teams had gone, the Cerberus squad closed in around Deckard.

For a moment, no one said anything. They just stared at him like he’d rewritten the laws of the game.

“I can’t believe it,” one of them breathed. “He actually did it.”

“How’d he one-shot it? It still had half its health!”

Rook stepped forward, stiff but composed, and held out two cards. As Deckard reached for them, Rook didn’t let go.

“Do you mind?” Deckard asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rook held his gaze for a second longer—then released the cards without a word.

Deckard accepted them with a nod. “Thanks.”

Rook hesitated. “Someone in my guild would love to meet you. Would you mind if I passed along your contact info?”

“No thanks,” Deckard replied immediately. He wasn’t here to be recruited into a guild’s farm schedule or pulled into someone else’s meta. He had cards to earn—and a Terralore table waiting for him.

“Woah! That was awesome!” Marty said. “How’d you do it? Was it the coconuts?”

“Sorry,” Deckard said with a grin. “Can’t reveal my secrets. It was a pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.”

He turned and walked away.

He didn’t look back.

*

Deckard threw a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed. Then he pressed his hand against the stone tablet.

In a flash of light, he was gone—transported to the entrance of the Nest of the Macaques.

He exhaled sharply. “Made it.”

His heart was still racing. He had done it. He’d captured the island’s second wild boss, used a top-tier guild to do it, and slipped away before anyone could figure out how.

Deckard pulled the three new cards from his inventory, eyes scanning them with satisfaction.

This was the rarest card on the island—and arguably the best one. Thinning the deck from the start made every draw more efficient. And the summon condition? Practically guaranteed in any lane-based matchup. He smiled. It would slide into any deck like it belonged there.

Next came the skills:

A finisher. If he used it on The Claw at the right moment, it was game over. He could already picture the board flipping.

An incredible debuff—and permanent, too. It wouldn’t do much to a lone card, but against a full board? It would be devastating. He loved it.

Still, he’d seen these cards before. What he was truly here for was what came next. He was about to complete his island collection.

Deckard pulled out his repository and pressed the Macaw cards against it. The nanites stirred, then surged—pulling the cards in with a greedy hum. Almost immediately, they began to skitter and reform, crawling across the device’s surface in intricate, spiraling patterns. The metal grew hotter with each second until he could no longer hold it.

“Ouch!” He dropped it just as the heat peaked. The repository struck the ground, and a burst of blinding light exploded outward, followed by a low, thunderous rumble that rolled through the dungeon floor.

The spectacle was overwhelming—light, heat, and vibration all at once. Deckard shielded his eyes, heart pounding in his chest. Whatever was about to happen, he knew it would be worth the risk.

And he couldn’t wait to see what came out of it.

Ch. 68 - Tropical Monk

INDEX

Ch. 70 - Harmonious Island