AutumnXd
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CHAPTER 105
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 15:22:47 +0000 UTCThe crisp mountain air carried a faint chill as Russell and Heath made their way down the winding path from the summit, the gravel crunching under their boots like tiny echoes of the earlier battles. The practical class had been a rush, leaving Russell with a satisfying ache in his muscles and a mind buzzing with new possibilities. But amid the high of his victory, a nagging question that had been simmering in his thoughts for weeks finally bubbled to the surface. He glanced at Heath, who was still riding the wave of excitement from the fight, his face flushed and eyes bright like a kid who'd just unlocked a rare card in a game.
"Speaking of which," Russell started, his voice casual but laced with genuine curiosity as he kicked a loose stone off the path, watching it tumble down the slope into the underbrush below, "it's pretty hard to snag new materials during regular classes, right? I mean, how are we supposed to keep progressing with our card creations if we're stuck scraping by?" The words hung in the air, heavy with the frustration of every cardmaker who'd ever hit a wall. Without fresh resources, growth stalled it was like trying to level up in a game with no loot drops. And seeing how most of his classmates were already pushing toward silver, relying on outdated bronze cards felt like bringing a knife to a spell duel.
Heath paused mid-step, turning to Russell with a knowing grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes, the kind of smile that said he'd fielded this question a dozen times before. "Ah, yeah, that's the classic newbie worry," he said, clapping Russell on the shoulder with a friendly thud that nearly knocked him off balance. There was a reassuring warmth in Heath's tone, like an older brother sharing hard-won wisdom. "Don't sweat it too much. For freshmen and sophomores like us, the school hooks us up with these practical training courses. It's basically our ticket to real-world grinding we dive into secret realms for what they call 'cleanup duty.' Sounds boring, but it's where the good stuff happens."
"Cleanup duty?" Russell repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion as he stopped walking, crossing his arms over his chest. The term conjured images of mops and buckets, not the adrenaline-pumping chaos of realm exploration. A flicker of skepticism crossed his face, mixed with a spark of intrigue after all, anything involving secret realms meant potential for rare finds, but it also screamed danger. "What, like sweeping up after the pros? Doesn't sound very... glamorous."
Heath chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed off the trees lining the path, his breath misting in the cool air. He seemed amused by Russell's reaction, like he'd seen that same puzzled look on every fresh face. "Nah, it's not as lame as it sounds think of it as the Association doing the heavy lifting first. They send in their elite teams to blaze through a new secret realm, taking out the big bosses, mapping the place, and clearing the major threats. Once that's done and the realm's mostly tamed, they let students like us in to handle the leftovers the stragglers, minor mobs, and any hidden pockets they missed. It's got its risks, don't get me wrong," Heath added, his expression turning a shade more serious, a hint of caution in his eyes as he recalled his own close calls, "you could still run into something nasty that slipped the net. But it's way safer than jumping into an uncharted mess blind. Perfect for us greenhorns to cut our teeth, build some battle smarts, and yeah, stock up on materials. Plus, it gives a taste of the gig we'll be pulling after graduation real Association work."
Russell's face darkened a notch as Heath's words sank in, a shadow of unease creeping over his features like a cloud blotting out the sun. Memories of the [Black Flag] secret realm surged unbidden the heart-pounding chaos, the razor-edge danger, the sting of loss that still lingered like a scar. That mission had been insanely perilous for students, way beyond what Heath described as "cleanup." Piecing it with Marcus's shady dealings and the behind-the-scenes manipulations, a cold certainty settled in Russell's chest: his suspicions were dead on. That whole ordeal had been rigged, far from standard procedure. The thought left a bitter knot in his stomach, his fists clenching slightly at his sides, but he shoved it down deep. No point dwelling here, not with friends around.
Suppressing the turbulent emotions swirling inside him, he managed a nod, his voice steady despite the inner storm. "Alright, that tracks. Sounds like a smart setup keeps us progressing without throwing us to the wolves too soon." He shot a glance at Heath and Keith, appreciating their easy camaraderie; it was nice to have people who explained things without making him feel like an outsider. "Lead the way to this Battle Club, then. I'm curious to see if it's worth the hype."
Their morning practical class had wrapped up early, leaving the afternoon wide open for whatever caught their fancy the perfect time to check out extracurriculars. The Battle Club's headquarters was conveniently nestled right next to the Cardmaking Department's teaching building, a rugged, fortified structure built like a bunker with thick, reinforced walls designed to contain the explosive chaos of duels and training sessions. Given the bronze-to-silver level of most members, the club's potential for destruction was no joke, so they often expanded into the nearby mountain forests for larger-scale bouts, where the natural terrain jagged rocks, dense thickets, and steep drops added layers of strategy and unpredictability, turning simple spars into heart-racing simulations of real-world combat.
Since classes had only just kicked off, the club was sparsely populated when they arrived a handful of dedicated members lounging in the common area, some fiddling with cards over a table strewn with notes and energy drinks, others chatting animatedly about recent realm hauls or debating card synergies. The air hummed with low-key energy, the faint scent of sweat and ozone from recent practice lingering like a badge of honor.
Heath led Russell straight to the instructor's office, a cluttered den packed with strategy boards scrawled with tactical diagrams, dusty tournament trophies lining the shelves like silent guardians, and towering stacks of material catalogs threatening to topple over. The instructor, a bald middle aged man with a physique that hinted at past glory now softened by time, was lounging at his desk, feet propped up and scrolling through a tablet with the casual air of someone who'd rather be anywhere but buried in paperwork.
"Coach Carter," Heath called out, poking his head in with a grin that showed he was no stranger to the place, his voice carrying a mix of respect and familiarity. "Got a classmate here who's interested in joining the Battle Club and diving right in."
Coach Carter blinked in mild surprise, lowering his tablet as he swung his feet down with a thud, sitting up a bit straighter in his creaky chair. "Hold up is there anyone in the department not already signed up? Or is this kid from another major?" After all, cardmaking students usually jumped on the club bandwagon from day one; it was basically a rite of passage for anyone aiming to sharpen their edge.
Before Heath could launch into the details, Russell stepped forward with a polite nod, his tone calm and direct. "Coach, I'm Russell."
The name clicked like a lock turning, and Carter's eyes widened as recognition dawned. "Oh! You're Director Blake's new apprentice, aren't you? Should've figured. Here, fill this out." He slid a form across the desk, his demeanor shifting from laid-back to warmly accommodating, like he'd just realized he was dealing with someone who came with a golden stamp of approval.
Heath muttered "I'm not jealous, I'm not jealous..." under his breath like a chant, his face twitching with a mix of envy and amusement. When he joined, there'd been entry tests nothing brutal, but still hurdles to clear. Russell? A name-drop and bam, in like Flynn.
Russell jotted down his basics swiftly, the pen scratching across the paper in the quiet office, then looked up with determination gleaming in his eyes. "Coach Carter, I'd like to aim for a main team spot right off the bat."
Carter's face twisted into an awkward grimace, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back, the chair groaning in protest. "Uh, well, the main roster's all filled up at the moment, and I can't just rejig the lineup on a whim." He assumed Russell was pulling the mentor card to skip the queue, a move he'd seen from privileged kids before, though it always left a sour note.
Heath tugged at Russell's sleeve, whispering urgently with a worried furrow on his brow. "Russell, heads up the mains are all silver-level sophomores. They're no pushovers; earned their spots through blood and sweat."
Russell's calm voice sliced through the tension like a well-honed blade, his expression steady and unyielding. "I'm silver-level too."
"Let's go! Word's out someone's challenging a main in the Battle Club!" "Again? Happens every other week." "But it's a freshman this time." "?!"
Footsteps pounded through the cardmaking building's halls, the buzz spreading like wildfire in a dry forest. News of freshman Russell taking on a main teamer had everyone dropping what they were doing.
Back in the club, Heath gawked at Russell like he'd grown a second head. "You're silver? For real?" No wonder he was the only silver freshman around, and Russell's early admit made him a year younger. The gap felt insane, like discovering a hidden prodigy in their midst.
Russell shrugged modestly, though a spark of pride flickered in his eyes. "Got lucky with a breakthrough recently timing worked out."
"So you've got a silver card to back it up?" Heath pushed, his curiosity burning like a forge, eyes wide with anticipation.
Russell shot him an odd look, a smirk tugging at his lips. "If I didn't, you think I'd challenge a main? That's just asking for a beatdown."
Heath choked on his words, face reddening as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Meanwhile, the club filled with gawkers, the air thick with whispers and excitement, the common area packed shoulder-to-shoulder.
"Sophomore Grant's here," Heath murmured, nodding at a crew-cut guy striding in, exuding confidence like an aura you could feel.
Grant was baffled at first. Coach Carter's message had seemed like a bad joke, but after double-checking, it was real: a silver freshman wanted a shot at him. Kid's got guts, but he's green as grass, Grant thought with a smirk, cracking his knuckles as he sized up the crowd. Time to show him the real gap between new blood and veterans who've bled for their rank.
Carter spotted Grant, his voice cutting through the murmurs as he addressed both challengers. "You're both here rules are the standard cardmaker duel basics: no lethal intent, focus on skill and strategy. No need to rehash the details; you've all been through this."
"Russell vs. Grant! Begin!"
As Carter's words dropped like a starting pistol, Nami, Luffy, Yoriichi Tsugikuni, and Retsu Unohana materialized before Russell in a flash of radiant light, their presences filling the space with a mix of power and synergy. This was his first silver vs silver showdown; he wasn't about to hold back, his heart racing with the electric buzz of competition.
Grant sensed the auras rolling off them, his sneer deepening as he assessed the lineup with a critical eye. "Iron? Bronze? And just one silver? You're challenging me with that ragtag crew?!" His voice dripped with disdain, but there was a flicker of wariness he knew better than to underestimate completely.
"The edge is mine!" Grant declared, his own summons erupting in a surge of energy, ready to clash.
(End of this chapter)
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Raphael Espinoza Angulo
You're going to lose, friend.
