Deckard adjusted his glasses and stepped forward cautiously, the crunch of loose gravel beneath his boots the only sound besides the distant waves.

  He felt the power of the [Lone Wolf] title coursing through him:

  Passive. +5 attack, +5% damage resistance, +5% status resistance when running dungeons.

  Bonus doubles when running a dungeon alone.

  Rounding the first bend, his eyes locked onto a trio of Diseased Seagulls. Their eyes gleamed with feral intensity. They were ready to pounce on any intruder.

  Deckard remained calm. He knew their patterns well—their speed, their aggressive lunges, their relentless persistence. He’d faced them one-on-one countless times before. But this would be his first fight against a full pack.

  He paused to size them up. Each Diseased Seagull had 100 HP. Meanwhile, his cards dealt 14 damage each—28 on a critical hit. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. This will be fun.

  Still, Deckard didn’t dare to play this recklessly. The dungeon’s open layout made his usual strategies from the Molting Grotto useless. Back there, he could retreat to tight crevices to recover. Here, there was no cover. No hiding.

  He shuffled his deck, feeling the subtle weight of the extra card added by [Repository Recharge]. The difference was almost imperceptible, but it was there.

  Four Aces!

  Four cards in his deck were prepped for critical hits.

  “Very well,” he murmured under his breath. “I think I’m ready.”

  With a burst of speed, Deckard launched himself toward the flock. His opening throw—one he had practiced dozens of times—felt fluid now, his body moving like a well-oiled machine. Every adjustment to his wrist, elbow, shoulder, and even his hips and knees added force to the throw.

  The first projectile sliced through the air and struck the nearest seagull square in the chest.

  -28!

  The seagull screeched, wings flailing as the impact sent it careening backward. Deckard nodded, satisfied. “As expected. The damage incredible.”

  The other two seagulls froze momentarily, their heads tilting in confused disbelief.

  Deckard didn’t waste the opening. He unleashed a flurry of cards at the injured bird, each one landing true.

  -14

  -28!

  -14

  -28!

  “Lucky! Two aces!”

  The seagull dissolved into motes of light, vanishing before it had a chance to counter.

  The last time he was here, pulling off something like this would have been unthinkable. Back then, he could only watch as Orson, Kane, and Mason handled the mobs. Now, he was doing the same—and doing it alone.

  The remaining two seagulls snapped out of their daze and rushed toward him. Adrenaline surged through his veins. One down, two to go.

  He was more than happy to retreat. The narrow cliffs boxed him in, the tight path forcing the seagulls to stay close together. It was perfect for his strategy. Once he had enough space, he spun on his heel and unleashed a salvo. Five cards flew in rapid succession, each one a blur slicing through the air. Without waiting to see the damage, Deckard turned and sprinted again.

  The cries of the two seagulls reverberated through the cliffs as they pursued him, their sharp beaks gleaming in the dim, muted light.

  The stretch of road between his starting location and this point wasn’t long, but it gave him just enough room to fire three or four salvos between sprints. He repeated the attack, launching card after card until one began to glow faintly—the third ace.

  The glowing card struck its target, triggering a critical hit. The seagull screeched and staggered, its HP bar draining rapidly and collapsing into motes of light.

  Deckard smiled. I feel like Superman. The [Lone Wolf] title was doing the heavy lifting—its power boosts made him far stronger than usual. But that didn’t diminish the thrill of victory.

  The final seagull charged at him, its movements wild and erratic. Deckard sidestepped, his feet pivoting sharply as he flicked another card mid-motion. The hit landed perfectly. A second card followed, finishing it off in a flash of light.

  He exhaled, letting the tension ease as he watched the last of the loot shimmer into view. Quickly sifting through the glowing items, he found no rare drops this time, but it didn’t matter. The thrill of clearing waves solo was more than enough to keep him going.

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  With each wave he pulled, the task became easier. The path became longer, giving him more room to maneuver and kite the seagulls. He could run farther, set up better angles, and keep the birds at bay with well-timed salvos.

  After several waves, the trail opened fully into a wide crater, and Deckard slowed, scanning the area ahead.

  This is where the first elite is.

  The fear that had once paralyzed him was nowhere to be found. Instead, he felt something else—determination.

  I guess it’s time to get the answer to my question.

  He already owned the card for this elite, but a critical question lingered: could he capture another one? How exactly did the system’s limits work?

  Back when he’d run experiments to test the limits of his class, he’d tried capturing the same starfish twice—without success. But this was different. He already had a copy of [Cranky Seagull], one that had naturally dropped from the creature. Did that mean he couldn’t subdimensionalize it now? Was the system blocking him because he’d ever added it to his binder, or only if he’d personally captured it before? He’d find out soon enough.

  Scanning the cliffs, Deckard spotted the elite. From down here, only its head was visible, jutting from its lair. The moment he stepped into aggro range, it would come barreling down.

  He hesitated.

  Before capturing the Crab Bulwark and the Spider Crab, he’d spent hours just watching them to build Understanding. Should he do the same now?

  He shook his head. There was no guarantee he'd have that kind of time with future elites or bosses. Even here, in this very dungeon, the Sea Ghoul had only appeared once he entered aggro range. There’d been no chance to study it beforehand. If that was the norm going forward, he’d have to adapt—fight first, gather Understanding mid-battle, and hope it was enough to subdimensionalize the target.

  Besides, there was a big difference between capturing a creature at full health and one already worn down. The better he got at fighting elites and bosses, the more damage they’d take—and the better his odds of capturing them. It made sense to get used to the rhythm now, while they were still manageable. It would only get harder from here.

  More than that, he’d captured the Claw far faster than either elite. Understanding had come quicker through combat than from passive observation. And time was of the essence. The faster he progressed, the sooner he could start earning from this game.

  He clenched his fists.

  In this dungeon, he’d try a different approach. He’d face the elites—and the boss—head on.

  He had to.

  Deckard squared his shoulders, rolling them out as he shuffled his deck. “All right,” he muttered. “Let’s do this.”

  This thing is fast, he reminded himself, the memory of his first encounter burning brightly. Back then, Orson’s team had kept their attention on it while ignoring the chaos of the summoned seagulls.

  As Deckard stepped into the clearing, he shuffled his deck once more.

  Four Aces!

  The wind picked up. A piercing cry sliced through the air, sending a shiver down his spine. His skin prickled, and he knew exactly what was coming next.

  The sound of flapping wings echoed through the crater, growing louder until a sharper, more commanding screech broke through. The elite appeared, descending with a terrifying, deliberate grace. Its feathers were pristine, gleaming like polished ivory.

  You’ve spotted a Cranky Seagull.

  Your Understanding of it grows.

  Cranky Seagull (Elite)

  Lvl. 4

  HP: 800

  Deckard’s first move was throwing a card with all of his body weight into it. The card hurtled through the air and struck the seagull with a resounding thwack. The impact triggered a critical hit.

  -28!

  The Cranky Seagull let out a screech, its wings flapping furiously as it launched into the air. Deckard braced himself, his muscles coiling for the inevitable counterattack. The elite dove toward him, its razor-sharp beak aimed straight for his chest.

  At the last second, Deckard sidestepped, the seagull’s dive missing by inches as it landed with a heavy thud that sent loose gravel skittering. Wasting no time, it hopped toward him in an erratic, aggressive rhythm, its wings a blur.

  It’s fast but predictable, Deckard thought, maintaining his distance. He unleashed a volley of cards, each one finding its mark.

  The seagull finally grazed him.

  -16

  You’ve been attacked by a Cranky Seagull.

  Your Understanding of it grows.

  Without hesitation, Deckard activated his healing ability.

  Healing Ray!

  +10

  He pressed the assault, card after card striking true.

  You’ve fought a Cranky Seagull.

  Your Understanding of it grows.

  Then it happened.

  Screech! Screech!

  The elite’s cry echoed through the crater, shrill and commanding. From the cliffs above, a small flock of Diseased Seagulls descended, their mews blending into a chaotic storm of flapping wings.

  You’ve seen a Cranky Seagull rally its comrades.

  Your Understanding of it grows.

  “No, you don't,” Deckard said as he raised his fist.

  Spider Net!

  A wet blob of white silk shot from his ring, expanding in midair and ensnaring five of the six reinforcements. The trapped seagulls protested and flailed against the sticky webbing, but Deckard didn’t linger. He darted around the clearing, keeping the remaining bird at bay while his focus stayed locked on the elite.

  Speed was everything. He couldn’t let the fight drag on and risk being overwhelmed.

  The Cranky Seagull’s HP bar dipped into the yellow zone, its movements growing more erratic.

  It’s time to run my experiment, Deckard thought, his heartbeat quickening.

  Subdimensionalize!

  A vortex tore open, swirling with energy and pulling the Cranky Seagull in. With its low health and Deckard’s deep Understanding, the capture succeeded.

  You’ve captured: [Cranky Seagull].

  As the elite disappeared into the card, the flock it had summoned scattered. The clearing grew quiet, the tension lifting.

  Relief washed over Deckard as he adjusted his glasses. This was his third copy of the card, but the first one he had captured himself.

  The first Cranky Seagull card had come from the [Worst Deck Ever], which he’d returned to Ratu to gain information on Ronan’s whereabouts. The second had dropped during his initial run of this dungeon. But this third one—this one—was earned entirely on his own merits.

  As I suspected... the limit isn’t whether I already have a copy of the card in my binder—it’s whether I’ve captured it before.

  It was a small discovery, but it might make a big difference someday. The first third of the dungeon was done.

  He pocketed the new card and turned toward the cliffs. One elite down. One elite and a boss to go.

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