"Students from the Department of Combat really have so much energy..."
Having barely memorized the way from the cafeteria to the faculty dorms, Lindholm finishes the morning class. With nothing scheduled for the afternoon, he eats, then stands at the cafeteria entrance, feeling a bit lost.
He felt lost back in prison, and now that he's out, the feeling hasn't gone away.
He doesn't know what he should do, what he wants to do, or what he is even pursuing... Is he really chasing a carefree life of four days on, three days off, ten-to-five hours?
—Strictly speaking, his current workload doesn't even reach ten-to-five. Four classes a week, two sessions each, forty-five minutes per session. That's six hours of work a week. Four hundred pounds a month. If people ever find out...
The thought alone makes Lindholm feel content. Nephalem truly deserves to be the leader of POA, to have managed to pass such a job onto him. It makes losing to him playing card game in prison and then giving him a Consciousness Slash to cheer him up feel worth it.
Right! Cards!
A sudden spark runs through him. He now has freedom to play cards!
In prison, even if no one could really manage him, inmates still had strict schedules, wardens too, and Nephalem was always busy. Lindholm couldn't just sit there playing cards with himself—that would've been too pitiful. But now that he's outside, he truly has card-playing freedom!
He has long heard about the Hero Spirit shops outside. They usually have full sets of character cards. Even if you go alone, the shop will set you up with others. Everyone can play happily... He really should try it out!
Lindholm pats his wallet. Nephalem gave it to him. Inside is a hundred pounds of living expenses... Damn, the way that sounds, it's like he's his son. Better to call it a hundred pounds of seed money.
In his year in prison, besides playing Hero Spirit, Lindholm hardly learns anything else. Still, he gets a decent grasp of the Eryndor Empire's currency system. Originally there are three denominations: evee, savil, and gold pound, in the ratio 200:8:1. But the base-25 and base-8 system is too stupid. After reform, savil gets scrapped, leaving only evee and pound.
As for purchasing power—Eryndor City, capital of the Empire, has a median wage of sixty-three pounds.
Nephalem gives Lindholm a hundred pounds. He has no wife, no kids, no car, no house, and meal subsidies to boot. No spending outlets. He can spend freely on cards without the slightest guilt.
So he looks for the way out of campus... but instead of the school gate, he finds a board game shop inside the Academy.
A university running such entertainment? It's poisoning the nation's youth, poisoning the next generation!
Well then, let me check whether the boss's collection is complete—holding this thought, Lindholm pushes the door open.
The shop owner sees him come alone and asks, "You're by yourself?"
"Yes."
"I'll set you up with a table. Five-player game, is that fine?"
Lindholm is very satisfied. "Of course."
However, at the table, from left to right—
Nephalem sits on the far left, wearing the guilty face of someone caught in bed.
Next to him, Principal Dover with his center-parted hair, looking like the adulterer.
On the far right, the beauty who gave Lindholm directions the other day. She sits elegantly with legs crossed, today in a bright qipao that somehow manages not to be gaudy but alluring. Pity card players see no women. She watches with folded arms, smiling, clearly just here for the show.
The fourth is Gin, a POA corporate slave who works six days a week, ten hours a day, for only eighty pounds. Now, probably because her boss wants to slack off, she's riding the coattails.
As for Lindholm, he looks like the cuckold who just caught adulterers.
"You went to play cards without me..."
Furious! So furious that his dead-fish eyes nearly vanish!
"In prison, when did I ever play without you?"
"Every time you weren't there, I longed for you to come back and play cards with me!"
"And now you—!"
"All this time, while I was waiting, you were out here playing with others!"
"Hey!" Nephalem can't take it anymore, shouting, "Don't say it like a wife catching her husband cheating! I was just playing cards!"
"Uu..." But the beauty seems moved by Lindholm's emotional accusations, her eyes welling with tears. "Too much... I can't watch anymore..."
"Don't side with him in such a weird way!" Nephalem yells.
Dover's expression changes. He slams the table. "I can't believe you! You told me you had no card friends, so I agreed to play with you. But it turns out you already did!"
"Don't make it sound like a spouse! Card friends aren't spouses, you can have as many as you want!" Nephalem is flustered. Gin, clearly unable to join this insane troupe, keeps a polite but awkward smile.
"Enough... Since you're here, sit down. A five-player round is perfect."
Moments ago, Lindholm was devastated. Now he sits instantly, shuffling cards with practiced ease.
"This is the principal," Nephalem explains offhandedly during the shuffle. "Number one tax thief in the Academy. Don't mind him. This is my subordinate, Gin. And this... well, you probably know already, or guessed it—Nightsong, one of the Royal Academy's two walking libraries, a teacher of the Department of Arts."
"Alright. Card-friends A, B, C, D. I've memorized you all."
"You haven't memorized anything! You're just giving random placeholders! Remember their names properly!"
"So noisy. Names are just for convenience anyway. At the table, there are only card-friends. What's wrong with A, B, C, D?" Lindholm looks at the insane triangle opposite him. Even with little prior exchange, their performance proves they're on his side. "Don't you agree?"
Dover shrugs. "Cards are cards. As long as we're happy."
Nightsong flicks her fan. "This lady agrees."
"Do whatever you want..." Nephalem gives up.
They quickly draw identity and character cards.
Hero Spirit is a world-famous card game sweeping the continent. In each game, players draw a identity card and pick a character card from five random character cards, using its abilities along with hand cards to take turns. Different numbers of players mean different sets of identity cards, and each identity has its own victory conditions.
In a five-player game, one is King and reveals his identity card. Other players do not. One is Knight, winning so long as the King survives. Two are Rebels, aiming to kill the King. The last is the Traitor, who helps the King defeat the Rebels, then must kill the King to win.
Hero Spirit's greatest feature is its character cards. Most come from real figures of history, four thousand years of heroes. Nearly everyone dreams that after death, their feats earn them a Hero Spirit card. It is the world's recognition of your greatness.
Among them exist the most exalted—Legendary Cards.
If a legendary card sparks debate over whether it's worthy, then it is not worthy.
Out of thousands, only fourteen character cards are legendary. Two strategists, three mages, one emperor, two alchemists, one mathematician, two alien races, and three combaters. Two combaters already have entire volumes in the history books. The last appears only a year ago and is swiftly immortalized as a card...
This game happens to produce one such legendary card. The card laid before Lindholm has a platinum-gold border, signifying its honor.
It depicts a man robed in white, bathed in holy radiance, face unseen, embracing infinite light. The First, the Original Mage.
[Circle of Truth]
[HP: 3]
[The Perfected]: Passive. No restriction when you using cards. No card you use can be responded to in any way. All damage dealt reduces maximum HP directly.
[Truth itself is but a toy in my hands]
This card carries near-absolute destructive power, but no survivability or draw ability. Lindholm picks it without hesitation. But his Rebel identity shows too clearly, and the King and Knight swiftly combine to kill him.
Memory for roads? Lindholm is hopeless. Memory for cards? Perfect—he recalls every single play, down to the suits and numbers. Yet he remains a terrible player, always trapped by his own one-sided fantasies.
They play all afternoon. By dinnertime, Lindholm has sampled nearly every possible losing route in Hero Spirit.
Night falls. They finish, planning to eat together.
Lindholm stands at the door, dazed. He turns, voice airy and dreamlike, like becoming a buddhist.
"After an afternoon of cards, what have I gained, and what have I lost?"
"A wasted day, nothing learned."
"Think, Nephalem. Card game is meaningless. They drain my spirit, bleed my wallet."
"I swear, I will never play Hero Spirit again. I will save my life."
"What do you think, Nephalem?"
He turns for affirmation—
But Nephalem is walking with Dover.
"Wow, the cafeteria's been renovated again."
"Yeah, lots of new places. The ones from our school days is hardly a trace."
"And the Red Carnation Dessert Shop?"
"Closed. Replaced by something else."
"My youth is over."
Ignored, Lindholm sighs long in the cold wind. Then he suddenly raises his eyes—and slashes!
Nephalem stumbles and trips flat on his face.
Dover looks stunned. "So you really haven't been training since graduation. But even so, to fall this low..."
"Boss... Do you think you're some cute girl who can make tripping a selling point?" Gin mutters behind her hand.
Nightsong hides a smile behind her fan, silent.
Nephalem's face burns with shame. He can only roar in rage: "Lindholm! You bastard!"
Whistling, Lindholm leaves contentedly—just like Nightsong that day beneath the goddess statue, praising her own beauty.