He smiled as the dwarf happily skipped into the portal.

The portal would bring the dwarf to the end of the first floor, and he was glad that the dwarf was gone. He needed time to digest some things the dwarf’s visit had brought up.

The Guardian.

That was what the dwarf called him. He did not know why, but he liked the name. It sounded familiar to him, and the way the dwarf spoke made him think the name had some meaning behind it. He thinks he would like to take the name as his own, if that was possible.

When he saw first saw the dwarf, the Catkin did not know what to do. He did not know what was expected of him, and neither Carda nor the dungeon core had given him a script of what to say. So, his instincts took over.

The bow, the way he spoke to put the dwarf at ease, the method to slowly draw him into the game of 21, the Catkin just knew what to do. It was as if he had been training for this his whole life.

Maybe he had.

The Catkin sat back down on his chair and picked up his deck of cards. The cards used to be blank, but his [Create] skill allowed him to create images and pictures on the cards and that was what the Catkin did. Somehow, he knew what to create to make a deck of playing cards, and how to play the game of 21. This was not knowledge his [Carder] class gave him. The Catkin just did not remember how, but the game was something he already knew. One by one, the Catkin flipped the cards over on the table as he tried to remember.

How did he know how to play the game?

Since the beginning, the Catkin had been wondering about himself. He knew he had a life before his change, the letter from Carda all but confirmed it, and he often wondered who he was. Playing with the cards was peaceful and helped his mind settled. The Catkin continued playing, trying to remember.

Like always, the memories were disjointed. The face of a kindly old woman; glimpses of three men who were close to him; a great hall that filled him with both fury and awe. Not for the first time, the Catkin wondered why Carda took away his memories but left behind these small glimpses of who he was.

“You switch the cards. You let the dwarf wins.”

The Catkin looked around his room before realizing the voice belonged to the dungeon core. As a dungeon core, it could see everything that happens in the dungeon, and it must had saw him switching his third card from a 10 to the 6 of clubs.

“Yes, I did.”

“You cheated.” The dungeon core said. It did not sound angry, merely curious.

“Is it still cheating when you want to lose?” The Catkin laughed.

“Why?”

“I need the dwarf to spread the word,” the Catkin said as he continued playing with his cards. “I need the dwarf to spread the word that there is a new god in this world, and his Name is Carda. He is the Lord of Cards, the Prince of Cats, a God of Luck.”

“You do not need to lose the game for that.”

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“That is true,” the Catkin admitted. “But a gambler is more willing to talk about his winnings than his losses.”

“How do you know that?”

That was a fair question, and the Catkin could not think of a good lie.

“I do not know how, but I just do. Maybe it has something to do with my Class, or who I was before I was turned into a Catkin. I just know.”

“You remember who you were?” The dungeon core asked after some moments of silence.

“No, I do not. But I have flashes. Small flashes of people and places I knew. I do not know who these people are, where these places are, but they were important to me.”

“I am sorry. When Carda told me the Vial of Change would take away your memory, I did not think anything of it. I did not know the vial would leave behind residue. That was cruel.”

The Catkin could do nothing but nod. When he asked, the dungeon core had openly admitted that it knew the vial would take away his memories, and it had gone along with what the god wanted anyway. On a certain level, the Catkin understood. There was nothing the dungeon core could do against a God, but the act proved that the dungeon core was not his friend. To be fair, the dungeon core never pretended to be one.

Peace and quiet returned to the Hall of Carda and only the sounds of the cards of the cards could be heard in the small room. Then, the dungeon core asked another question.

“Is that why you know how to give that bow? My dungeon fairy told me that was something humans do in their courts.”

So, he was human. That did not surprise the Catkin. The old women and three men he remembered were all humans.

“No, that was something instinctive, actions that had been drilled into my body. I must have been trained to do that.”

“Why didn’t Carda take all that away? A God should be able to take away your former instincts, and he did not seem to be a cruel god.” The dungeon core mused.

The Catkin had asked himself that question several times before and had came up empty. He may have a duty from Carda, but he did not know the god well. However, as he placed another card on the table, the answer came to him naturally.

“A Chance,” he said.

“I do not understand.” The dungeon core replied, and the Catkin tried to explain as best he could.

“Carda is the Cat of Chance. He must always give people a Chance. A chance of greatness, or despair. A Chance for success, to succeed despite impossible odds. Or a chance for failure, even in the face of certain success. So, He must gave me a Chance.”

“You believe he wanted you to recover your memories?”

“Not really,” the Catkin shook his head, “he merely gave me a way to do so. Glimpses of my past to tempt me.”

“Tempt you to do what?” The dungeon core asked.

“To level. To train. To be the best [Carder] I could be. Only when I grow in levels and power would I have a chance to break the seal that is blocking me from my memories.”

“A Chance to break the power of a God? That is unlikely. There is almost no chance of that.” The dungeon core scoffed, and the Catkin could not help but agree. It was almost impossible.

‘Almost’ being the important word.

“I never said it was a fair chance. After all, the house always wins.”

“I have never heard of that saying, but I get the idea. Never expect to win in a gambling house.” The dungeon core said, sounding almost disappointed.

Once more, the Hall of Carda was silent but for the flipping of the cards. When he finished flipping all the cards in the deck, the Catkin looked up at the ceiling and spoke to the air.

“Dungeon core, are you there?”

“Yes, I am here. Is there something you want?”

“I am wondering if I can have a training area?”

“A training area? To do what? I thought your class is based around your cards.”

“It is,” the Catkin admitted, “but I feel there is more to the [Carder] class. I need more room to train and experiment.”

“I cannot expand the Hall of Carda, it belongs to the god, but I can grant you access to my rooms.” The dungeon core hesitated for a moment before continuing. “My dungeon fairy just told me the adventurers would treat you as a wandering sub-Boss if they find you, so you may need to fight them once you go outside.”

“A sub-Boss?”

“Yes, some powerful monsters that are as powerful as the Boss of a floor but instead of being stationed at the end of a floor, a sub-Boss wanders around the dungeon. In some dungeons, they are considered more dangerous than the Boss of a floor.”

“Interesting,” the Catkin mused. “Is that why the dwarf called me a ‘Guardian’?”

“Yes, that’s the official name for sub-Bosses, but there’s usually something behind that. Like ‘Guardian of Flame’ or ‘Guardian of the Golden Chest’, and such.”

“Interesting,” the Catkin said. “Call me…the Guardian of Cards.”