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Card Slinger | Ch. 59 - The Jungle
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 11:47:56 +0000 UTCDeckard crossed the beach of Shell Bay, picking his way between darting crabs and players swinging at them with driftwood clubs and low-tier
Deckard crossed the beach of Shell Bay, picking his way between darting crabs and players swinging at them with driftwood clubs and low-tier blades. The scent of salt clung to the breeze, and the sound of waves rolled behind him in a steady rhythm.
As he walked, he pulled up his character sheet. He hadn’t checked it in a while, and he wanted to see just how far he’d come.
CHARACTER INFORMATION
Name: Deckard
Class: Card Slinger
Race: Human
Affinity: [Empty]
Alignment: Neutral
Relationships: [Ronan (10/100)]; [Stiltwave Village (110/300)];
Titles: [Beginner Dungeoneer], [Lone Wolf], [Osmotic Skin], [Scooba Fighter], [Swimmer]
CARD COLLECTION
Sets completed: 7
Total number of cards: 68
STATS
HP: 115.4
HP Regeneration: 2.5 HP/sec
EP: 110.1
Energy Regeneration: 0.2+5.1%
Weight: [Light] - (2/30Kg)
Running Speed: 100%
Attack Speed Bonus: +2.7%
Attack: +8.3
Damage Resistance: +3.7%
Crit Damage: +0.1
Healing Bonus: +0.2
Damage Bonus: +0.1
Throwing Deck Capacity: 53 cards
EQUIPMENT
Right Hand: [Empty]
Left Hand: [Empty]
Head: [Beginner’s Hat]
Top: [Coconut Jacket] | +2% damage reduction; +5HP
Gloves: [Discarded Gloves] | +1% attack speed
Bottom: [Beginner’s Trousers]
Shoes: [Salvaged Shoes] | +2% running speed when outside of combat
Cape: [Empty]
Accessories: [Rusty Spectacles], [Dented Oxygen Bottle], [Spider Crab Ring]
SKILLS
Passive: [Beginner’s Path], [Card Slinging], [Repository Recharge]
Active: [Dumpster Disguise], [Four Aces], [Healing Ray], [Pinch Point], [Power Throw], [Repository Recharge], [Subdimensionalize], [Telekinetic Reload], [Trash Cocoon].
Deckard reviewed his progress with a critical eye. It was slow, no question—but it was real. Even without any base stats—Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence, or Wisdom—his collection was powering up his attributes directly.
When he’d first started, each card throw had barely scratched out a single point of damage. Now, just from his Attack bonuses alone, he was hitting for four—quadruple his initial output. And that wasn’t even factoring in skills like [Four Aces], [Pinch Point], and [Power Throw].
More recently, he’d unlocked the ability to reload some of his cards mid-combat. The difference hadn’t been tested yet, but on paper, it promised a sharp bump to his sustained damage. Nothing flashy. Just efficient. The kind of gain that would matter more and more the deeper into the game he went.
Even so, he knew he was still lagging behind other players. While he’d had to jump through hoops just to gain three extra points of damage, other players simply visited the local shop and bought gear that made them stronger than he was even now.
Deckard snorted. He’d been playing for days now—grinding, testing, backtracking. Plenty of people cleared Beginner Island in under a day. He’d seen the guides. Read the claims.
As for him, here he was, still poking under every rock and progressing at a crawl.
He clicked his tongue. He thought about all the hours he’d spent hunting turtles. Despite how much he disliked melee combat, he had to admit—landing a solid hit with the Burrowing Spear was addicting.
It’s okay, Deckard. This class will prove its worth in the long game.
There were countless dungeons in Terralore and thousands of creature types, each packed with skills—many thousands of them. Each one represented a small but permanent boost to his strength. If he could just capture them all...
It was going to be a snowball effect. He just had to persist in his path.
As he approached the jungle, he dismissed his character sheet.
The open sand gave way to scattered coconut trees, then to the first creeping shadows of the jungle. The air thickened with damp heat, and the buzz of insects grew louder with each step.
He stopped.
There’s that feeling.
A familiar tingle crawled up his spine—subtle but insistent. Something waited beyond the trees.
It hadn’t always been like this. Before his third fight with Ratu, the jungle had been just set dressing—wild and distant. Now, it watched him back. Every time he came near, the same unease stirred in his gut.
He hesitated at the tree line and opened his AI overlay. Not the in-game system window—this was his external browser, rigged to block spoilers unless he searched for them on purpose. A self-imposed filter. Enough to keep the mystery alive while still letting him cheat when it counted.
This felt like one of those moments.
Third dungeon. Beginner Island.
He hit Enter.
Dozens of results appeared—articles, player logs, strategy guides, combat footage. A few grainy clips showed teams getting swarmed by jungle macaques. Some were ambushed in the trees. Others were caught flat-footed by packs working together. One video cut out just as a macaque hurled a crude spear from the canopy.
So, the third dungeon belongs to macaques.
Deckard frowned. Macaques wearing crude weapons, working together like a stone age tribe... It was a little unsettling.
Now that he thought about it, Ratu’s deck had featured macaques. At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. Now, he knew those cards had come from right here, from the island.
He copied the coordinates from one of the guides and uploaded them to his map. If he hadn’t looked it up online, he would’ve just asked a nearby player for the dungeon’s location.
HeI didn’t feel too bad about cheating here. What was the difference, really? In the end, information was information—whether it came from a forum post or a shout from the next road over.
The system responded with a subtle ping—path confirmed.
He flicked his hand, and cards spiraled into a tight fan between his fingers. The spear stayed strapped to his back—a fallback.
Then he stepped into the jungle.
The feeling vanished.
No spine-tingling alert. No lingering presence. Just jungle. The shift was so abrupt that he stopped again, frowning. Had he just imagined it? Was he being paranoid?
He shook his head and pressed on. Dangerous or not, he was here to finish what was left of the island and make it to a mid-tiered city—where the real Terralore scene began. That was where the gaming parlors were. Where the tournaments happened. That’s what he’d joined the game for.
Even though the jungle loomed thick from a distance, up close, it wasn’t as dense as it looked. Deckard had half-expected to hack a path with a bush knife or push through curtains of vines. But the undergrowth parted easily beneath his boots.
Palm-leaf ferns sprawled near the base of thicker trunks. Bright red berries clustered in thorny bushes, bursting with juice and shine. Some of the taller flowers swayed with oversized, bulbous heads that looked heavy enough to tip over. After seeing so many coconut trees, it felt good to spot some variety and color for a change.
For all its color and variety, the plant life was kept in check by the sandy, nutrient-poor soil. Vines hung low, trees leaned close, and roots curled across the ground—but the brush never grew thick enough to block his path. It gave the illusion of freedom—easy steps, open sightlines. As if the developers were inviting players to come deeper into it.
Deckard kept a steady march. Apprehension pulsed beneath his skin, tight and restless. But under it, something else stirred—excitement. The kind that made your palms sweat and your heart beat two counts too fast.
He’d spent days preparing for whatever lurked in this jungle.
He still remembered how shaken Ratu had looked when Deckard took that epic card from him. That wasn’t the look of someone who’d lost a card. It was the look of someone who feared what came next. Add to that the ominous warnings Ronan had dropped before disappearing again, and he’d had nightmares about what might be waiting for him here.
But the fear wasn’t enough to stop him. Because if Ratu’s backer really had access to more cards like [Whale Shark]... wasn’t that something to chase?
For a moment, he imagined a treasure chest buried beneath the sandy jungle floor. He imagined himself opening it and finding a stash filled with rare, epic—maybe even legendary cards.
That thought sparked something beneath the nerves—a quiet hunger.
If another NPC challenges me to a Terralore game again, he thought, I’m ready.
His collection had grown. Not perfect, not complete, but flexible—and deadly in the right hands. He felt confident in his ability to build a solid deck with what he had.
He was stronger, too. If the challenge turned out to be combat-focused, he could hold his own now. And he’d followed his class questline step by step, never skipping ahead, never taking a shortcut.
That had to mean something. Right?
The thought was reassuring. The preparation dulled the edge of his anxiety—and in the space it left behind, greed began to take root.
The coordinates pulled him inland, far enough that he couldn’t hear the ocean anymore—only smell it. But he was still close enough to the coast that Shell Bay would be just a short hike away. The island’s layout made sense, a natural lure for players looking to take on the next challenge after the turtle fights.
A rustle broke the quiet ahead. Sharp, sudden.
Deckard froze. He dropped into a ready stance, muscles coiled.
Then, movement flashed in the trees—light and agile. A macaque.
It bounded from branch to branch, carefree, leaping with fluid confidence between the trees. The jungle bent to its motion without resistance. It swung low, then climbed high again, tail flicking with each jump.
Deckard inspected it.
Prankster Macaque
Lvl. 7
HP: 250
His hand hovered near his deck. For a moment, he considered testing his strength against it. But the macaque didn’t charge. It found a piece of fruit hanging from a high branch, plucked it with practiced ease, and settled in. While it ate, it glanced down at Deckard—curious but not threatened.
Deckard eased out of his stance. The macaque didn’t seem interested in a fight. Not unless provoked.
There was no point in staying here. In case being in the jungle was dangerous to him, he would prefer to be within the macaque dungeon. At least there, the effects of [Lone Wolf] kicked in, and he would be able to do his thing away from prying eyes.
Deckard resumed his march.
Another rustle.
He turned, half-expecting a macaque, but instead spotted a player slipping between the trees. Deckard exhaled and nodded a greeting. The player gave him a brief nod in return and moved on without a word.
As he continued forward, more signs of life emerged—other players along the same trail, all heading in the same direction.
He fell into step behind a trio walking ahead. They were chatting in hushed voices.
“Think we’ll get the drop this time?”
“It’s our third run, and we haven’t gotten it yet. It has to be this time.”
“I think we’ll have an easier time against the leader if we focus on the minions first.”
“Hmmm… I read online that that doesn’t work.”
Deckard kept his distance, letting their voices fade into the crunch of leaves and the thud of boots on roots. The more he walked, the more players he passed. That—and the pulsing beacon on his map—told him he was close.
I guess I really was overthinking things.
His trek in the jungle had been uneventful. No ambushes. No monsters. No traps. No NPCs challenging him for a fight. Nothing had gone wrong.
He was almost there.
RAAAAAAAH!
A roar rang through the jungle. Low and rough. Not quite feline. Not quite ape. Something else entirely.
Deckard felt the hairs on his arms prickle up and his mouth go dry. However, when he glanced in the direction of the group ahead of him, he frowned. Their posture was loose, casual.
“Oh? It spawned!”
“I can’t wait to go after it.”
“That’s why we need the drops, you silly. That wild boss isn’t a pushover like the Turtle Mother. And with so many guilds farming it, we need to have better gear before we give it a go.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
They started moving again.
Deckard lingered, still looking in the direction that the roar had come from, trying to shake off the chill crawling up his back. After nothing happened for a long moment, he took a steadying breath and resumed his march.
Then the second roar hit.
RAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Closer.
The ground rumbled—once, then again. A deep vibration that rolled through his boots and into his spine. Birds burst from the canopy above. A breeze swept through the jungle like a ripple in water.
Then it stopped.
The quake. The breeze. The sound.
All of it.
Deckard slowed.
Something happened.
He’d felt a shift in the air. It was a feeling he had experienced three times before in this game, the same as when he was transported into a dungeon.
He looked around, blinking. No voices. No footsteps. No buzzing insects. Not even the far-off cries of macaques. Just stillness.
Where did everyone go?
He checked behind him. The trail was empty. No players. No shadows. Only trees.
His fingers hovered near his deck.
A soft shuffle.
Deckard turned—and found Ratu.
He looked nothing like before. Gone was the smug smile, the cocky tilt of his head. His skin had gone pale. His arms hung stiffly at his sides, trembling just slightly. And his eyes kept flicking to the treetops—nervous, watchful.
His voice came out strained and flat when he finally spoke like he was repeating someone else’s words.
“H-how dare you step into my land... after stealing what’s mine?”
