The [Ankra Beast] was so fast that it almost flitted past him, the dumb beast likely thinking he had fled eastward, the tall trees easily capable of obscuring view.
There was no grunt, no impassioned scream as Tom’s rapier flashed through the air, the entirety of his right arm’s strength along with a good chunk of his bodyweight behind that one stab.
A spurt of blood spashed over his work outfit, as his rapier punched through the [Ankra Beast’s abdomen and exited from the other side. The beast’s weight was nominal, allowing Tom to hold it aloft for a second, which caused the wound to deepen even further due to gravity weighing down upon it.
Then it’s neck swilveled in Tom’s direction, its beady eyes full of hatred as it opened its jaw.
Tom suddenly recalled why he hadn’t dared to confront the beast in a fair fight, as an orange glow began to coalesce around its mouth.
Abandoning his rapier, Tom began to run away from the beast. But no matter how much his resolve had changed, he was still an untrained fighter and ended up stumbling, falling flat against the ground.
Desperation flared as he felt the temperature rise behind him, forcing himself to crawl forward before he jammed his hands into the tree’s bark and used the entirety of his strength to throw himself along its curvature.
The [Ankra Beast] finally unleashed a torrent of flames. It sounded exactly like Tom would imagine a flamethrower lighting up, except he’d never seen or heard one in action.
He let out a scream as a scalding sensation gripped his right foot, as if a bunch of ants were eating his skin rapidly. Safely shielded by the curvature of the tree he began to pat his right foot and when that didn’t work, began to roll around vigorously back and forth on the tall grass.
Praising his luck in the fact that the grass wasn’t easily flammable, Tom hurriedly got back up on his feet, hoping desperately that he could walk.
“Thank you,” Tom whispered under his breath to no one in particuler, when he looked down. His leg, or atleast the visible part of it, was singed a little, and the sole of his right sneaker, which he believed to have blocked the brunt of the impact was a little disfigured.
Otherwise though, he should be able to walk fine.
Though he didn’t dare yet leave the comfort of the tree, the encounter with the [Ankra Beast] having left him a little rattled. He was immensely grateful for his decision not to have engaged the beast in frontal combat.
But what now? Part of him wanted to flee the scene but… his rapier was basically the only thing keeping him alive. He couldn’t abandon it.
[You have successfully killed a Level 1 Ankra Beast! Please approach the carcass for your reward!]
Well, that was unexpected.
----------------------------------------
Fifteen minutes earlier….
The smile on the bearded man’s face disappeared the moment the portal closed, replaced by a calm, composed demeanour.
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He had lied to Thomas. About mostly everything.
First of all, he was not a pawn of the [Divine System] as he had claimed. He was a [Herald]. And in truth, a [Rare] Soul Card was nothing impressive in his eyes.
It was a little above trash, but still inconsequential in his eyes. Well he was still doing a duty assigned by the [Divine System] but it wasn’t some holy task that he’d been interested in.
He’d taken the [Quest] on a whim, really. Guarding the realm seal for as long as he had, there were few precious moments that he got to blow off some steam. Even now, another [Herald] was covering for him, to allow him a brief reprieve, merely an year’s rest.
He didn’t really take the task too seriously, in all honesty, but it had been prophesied that ‘Earth’ held some potential matches. The other [Heralds] had told him about this planet, a wonderland in the remotest sector of the universe— truly, a great vacation spot.
If only they knew what horrors [Heralds] like him held at bay whilst they revelled in their puny, mortal lives.
In truth, every true denizen of Artezia was born with a [Soul Card] at birth, a manifestation of their soul given form. Most were born with [Common] soul cards, which is why a [Rare] soul card was still impressive, but that was not reason enough to move a Herald.
But, even if one was born with a [Common] soul card, that did not mean a life of mediocrity, not necessarily. For one could [Upgrade] their soul cards by performing [Quests], killing [Monsters] and [Completing] feats.
Noble Clans and Ancient Sects had also discovered methods of passing [Soul Cards] from one generation to the next, thus ensuring the same powerful [Soul Card] can pass on from generation to generation, albeit with its Level Reset to zero.
When a denizen of Artezia dies, their Soul would separate from their [Soul Card] leaving behind a [Card] that anyone with the requirements can equip, albeit after being reset to zero. A [Card] could never truly be destroyed, not even the weakest one, for it never entirely exists in the physical realm. However, if one did not have any desire to use that card, they could [Feed] it to ther [Soul Card] and grow their own strength.
This had lead to bloody wars in the past, but after a certain strength weaker cards stopped having an effect on stronger [Soul Cards]. He had not lied about some parts, for a [Soul Card] was truly a fragment of divinity— a small, insignificant one in most cases, but it was the [Divine System] that bestowed this power upon all denizens native to Artezia.
The bearded man played with the deck in his hands as he wandered the streets of Shibuya, Japan. To be more precisely, the same street where Tom had gunned down an armed killer thirty or so minutes ago.
A pool of blood was still left on the spot where the body was, causing the bearded man to chuckle before he turned back around.
The [Deck] in hand was no ordinary one. These were all [Mutated Cards], cards that even the [Divine System] could not accurately assess. The divine spark in them had mutated over time, implying that these were some of the oldest cards in existence hailing from a time whence not even the [Herald] was born.
The [Mutated Cards] chose their owner. Even the [Divine System] held no influence over them. Without the card’s acknowledgement, no one could wield them. Sure, perhaps if the [Herald] really tried, he could maybe damage one of the weaker ones, but not only would that grant him enmity from the [Divine System], there was no reason to do so.
When Tom reached the other size, he would be taken care of. Albeit, in a closely monitored way. They would observe him, keep tabs on him and watch him carefully for any deviation from the known abilities of his [Card].
And when his life came to an End, the Card would become the property of the [Syrlore Kingdom], winner of this decade’s Jackpot. Maybe its true ability would be judged to be of a higher rank and the Kingdom would be ecstatic, or it might kill off Tom tomorrow… there was no way of knowing.
There had been hundreds of such mutated [Soul Cards] unlocked over the years, and not once had they gone over the [Epic] rank.
Now that, admittedly, was worth the attention of a [Herald]. A never before seen [Epic] rank [Soul Card] could be the ultimate gift for a descendant, a trump card whose depths no one but the user knew.
Hell, he might have use for it himself.
Of course, no one, not even the [Herald] could, in his wildest dreams, believe that an [Ephemeral] card, the one card that all of Artezia dreamt of possessing, had the audacity to hide right under their very noses.