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Hidden Class: Card Slinger | Ch. 50 - Scooba Fighter
🕑 Added 2025-03-24 10:33:05 +0000 UTCAuthor's note:
Dear Card Slinger readers,
Today’s a special day for me—I’ve just launched this novel on Royal Road!
To celebrate, we’ll have several new chapters dropping this week here on Patreon. I’m really excited to share what’s coming next.
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Thank you so much for your support!
Enjoy today’s chapter.
—Cássio
***
The moment Deckard hit the beach, he broke into a sprint toward the rocky shoreline. Without breaking stride, he vaulted over a tide pool and dove straight into the water.
The ocean welcomed him with a familiar chill. Light refracted through the surface, casting shifting ribbons of gold and blue along the seabed. He exhaled slowly, letting the oxygen tank regulate his breathing as he sank, spear gripped tight in his hands.
He still had 5 minutes left in the tank. It was more than enough to experiment with his new weapon. He scanned the seabed. Then—movement.
A swirl of sand. A faint, fleeting shadow near the rocks.
Deckard leveled his spear. "Alright, round two, turtle."
Deckard repeated his first approach, diving down into the turtle from above like a hawk.
The Trash-Eating Turtle hovered near the ocean floor, its beak snapping lazily as it chewed through a fresh pile of discarded junk.
Deckard treaded the water as fast as possible, kicking with his legs. As he came in range, the Burrowing Claw Spear shot through the water like a harpoon, slicing through the drag as it struck the turtle.
-12
Finally! A solid hit.
The turtle flinched, its round black eyes snapping toward him. With a warning hiss, it yanked its limbs into its shell, angling itself against a rock—less exposed, harder to hit.
Deckard didn’t let up. He adjusted his grip and thrust again.
-10
-10
Even though the damage was slightly reduced, it was still significant. He was dealing ten times more damage per strike compared to their last battle.
Then—he saw the shift.
A familiar tremor ran through the water. The junk around the turtle shuddered, then began to rise, swirling in a slow, menacing orbit. Off the corner of his eye, Deckard spotted a pristine bottle.
What a waste. Here we go.
The turtle’s trash barrage erupted. Rusted nails, jagged shells, and even a barnacle-covered shoe rocketed toward him.
Deckard twisted mid-dodge, barely weaving between the floating debris. A broken glass shard grazed his shoulder, sending a sharp sting down his arm.
-5
He clenched his jaw. No time to hesitate.
Deckard pushed forward, aiming for the gap between the turtle’s shell and its head.
-14
The turtle recoiled. More objects rose from the seabed, swirling faster, as if pulled into a vortex.
Deckard braced himself.
This time, I’m ready.
The second wave came. A metal fork spun past his face, a tin can ricocheted off his chest plate, and a chunk of coral slammed into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.
-6
It hurt, but he wasn’t retreating this time.
Healing Ray!
+10
His wounds mended. His grip tightened on the spear.
I’ve got the sustain. Now I just need the opening.
The moment the turtle’s attack subsided, Deckard kicked off the seabed and surged forward, spear poised.
-15
The turtle lurched, limbs flailing for balance as it recoiled. Its HP was dropping—slowly, but surely. Deckard didn’t ease up. Stab. Dodge. Stab again. The Burrowing Claw Spear was making a difference, but the water still fought him. Every movement felt heavy, sluggish, as if the ocean itself resisted his efforts. He adjusted to the flow, letting the water guide his motions instead of forcing them.
-10
-10
The turtle let out a final, garbled groan before its body shuddered and went still. A faint glow pulsed along its form, shimmering brighter with each passing second until it finally broke apart into motes of golden light. As the murky water cleared, it left behind a few scattered coins and a large, cracked piece of shell that wobbled slightly as it began to sink.
Deckard exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. Fighting underwater wasn’t just about aiming—it was about endurance. He glanced at his health and energy bars. Both were dangerously low. Every movement drained him more than he expected, and even now, his muscles burned from the constant effort. Still, he’d done it. His first real underwater hunt.
He reached for the loot, snatching the Cracked Shell before it could drift too far.
Cracked Shell (Common)
Description: A piece of turtle shell that can be used for crafting.
It had to be worth something. He’d keep it to sell later. What he really wanted was a card, but getting one on his first try would’ve been too lucky.
I was able to deal with one in under five minutes. It wasn’t too bad. Sadly, he didn’t have any oxygen left in the tank. His vision was beginning to flash red. He had to take a break.
Just as he was about to make it to the surface he received a notification and his vision stopped flashing. He looked over at his oxygen levels and found that they were back up in the green again.
What just happened?
He opened the notification.
You’ve unlocked a new title: [Osmotic Skin]
Osmotic Skin (Common)
Description: Prolonged exposure to the ocean has triggered cellular mutations, allowing your skin to passively absorb oxygen from the surrounding water. Your body is adapting to life beneath the waves.
Effects:
Doubles lung capacity;
Diving items gain a +5-minute oxygen bonus.
Conditions to unlock:
Spend 5 hours underwater. {Complete}
Deckard grinned. Five hours? Have I really spent that long underwater already?
He hadn’t expected to receive a title like this, but he wasn’t about to complain. With no equipment, he could now last two minutes beneath the surface. More importantly, his oxygen tank now gave him a full 5 more minutes per dive—a massive improvement.
I can hunt four turtles per dive now! This was going to make things much easier.
Still grinning from the unexpected reward, he caught sight of another plume of sand in the distance. Another turtle and just enough oxygen left in the tank. He adjusted his grip on the spear and swam toward it, his anticipation building.
*
Deckard took a slow sip of coffee, eyes locked on yet another video of a Turtle Mother hunt.
Two days had passed since he’d started hunting turtles, yet the junkyard set remained incomplete. Between dives, he’d made the most of his time studying the game, piecing together strategies and potential advantages.
Ever since obtaining his [Oxygen-Dented Tank], he’d been researching its tactical applications, looking for ways to refine his amphibious playstyle. His growing experience and underwater bonuses might just give him the edge he needed when the time came to compete for the wild boss.
On the screen, the scene unfolded. A team of players lurking on the reef suddenly swarmed onto a raft, striking while the crew was distracted, their focus locked on the Turtle Mother. The ambush was swift, ruthless—by the time the crew realized what was happening, the attackers had already closed the distance. Blades clashed, and bursts of elemental energy lit up Shell Bay in the moonlight.
But the defenders were seasoned. They adjusted fast. A storm of counterattacks turned the tide, and within moments, the would-be hijackers were cut down and flung overboard.
“Nice covert attack. Shame it didn’t work out for them.”
Beep! Beep!
An alarm cut through the quiet of his apartment, snapping him out of his thoughts. He frowned and paused the video.
Guess it’s time to go turtle-hunting again.
Draining the last of his coffee, he set the mug in the sink and headed toward the capsule.
He came back online in the water—a little trick he’d picked up recently. Instead of resurfacing and diving back in after every break, he could simply log out and log back in. His tank still recharged while he was offline, saving him precious minutes of oxygen.
He began searching for prey but found no signs of turtles nearby. Without hesitation, he kicked off and swam forward, cutting through the water in search of movement.
The physicality of AstroTerra was something he hadn’t expected when he first started—how the game made him feel every swimming stroke, every dive, every long trek across the island. It wasn’t just button presses and calculated card plays. It was movement, exploration, and—he was starting to realize—a whole lot of patience.
Who would have thought Terralore would demand this much grinding?
Nova Cardia had its grindy moments, sure. The game’s monthly reset had been brutal, wiping ranks clean and forcing every competitive player to claw their way back up. Deckard had never let himself fall behind—Heavenly Rank was the only acceptable outcome. No matter how many matches it took, he always made it.
And then there was the pack opening grind.
His completionist tendencies had demanded he finish every set. It hadn’t been enough to just have a viable deck—he needed all the cards. He still remembered that one epic card from the Broken Tide set that refused to drop. Dozens of packs, hundreds of gold, the sheer agony of watching every flip reveal anything but the one he needed.
His eye twitched at the memory. He had been so close to flipping his desk back then.
Still, he tried to keep his thoughts from spiraling into frustration.
For one, even though he was grinding, AstroTerra made the process fun. This wasn’t some tedious menu-driven slog or pack-flipping nightmare. Here, he got to move, to explore, to see new things with every dive. He wasn’t stuck staring at endless digital interfaces. He was here, in a vast tropical world, surrounded by the rhythmic crash of waves and the rustling of palm trees in the breeze.
What else could he ask for?
And second—if he was being honest with himself—there was nothing quite like the feeling of finally landing that one last card. The moment when all the effort, all the searching, all the frustration paid off. When he could flip through his collection and see the full set, every piece in its rightful place.
He was pretty sure he was on the right track. After hunting turtles, he had already obtained a second [Scavenge] card—proof that they could drop skills. That meant there was a chance the missing card was also a drop from the turtles.
After swimming a little, he finally spotted signs of movement.
There.
A telltale sand cloud drifting in lazy spirals. He adjusted his hold on the spear as he kicked forward through the water, closing the distance to his target.
Trash-Eating Turtle
Lvl. 5
HP: 300
The turtle, seeing Deckard approach aggressively, tensed before retreating into its shell, its stubby limbs vanishing into the protective casing.
Here we go.
Deckard closed the distance, spear in hand. He had learned by now that fighting these turtles was less a test of agility and more of an all-in senseless brawl. They threw everything they had at each other, and Deckard waited for his superior stats to outdo the turtle’s.
He thrust the spear forward.
-12
-11
The impact reverberated through his arms, the spearhead scraping against the dense, algae-covered shell. It was a tough defense, but he just needed to keep whittling it down.
The seabed stirred. Loose bits of trash—scraps of metal, broken shells, and even an old rusted knife—began to lift into the water. One by one, the debris whipped toward him.
-6
-6
“Argh!” Deckard gritted his teeth as a rusty tin can bounced off his shoulder, followed by a piece of driftwood that smacked against his ribs.
Tch. Its telekinesis is so annoying!
The most annoying thing about it was that when Deckard tried to throw cards underwater, they sank or wobbled as if they were wet paper. However, the turtle made the projectiles fly true as if they were torpedoes!
Ducking and weaving were useless. The sluggish drag of the water slowed his movements too much, making dodging more effort than it was worth. Instead, he powered through, ignoring the stinging blows as he kept attacking.
The turtle trembled under the continued barrage of stabs. Deckard pressed the attack, his spear piercing through its weakening defense, each strike shaving off more and more of its HP.
The final blow connected.
The turtle shuddered, letting out a soft, watery grunt before dissolving into motes of blue light. The remnants of its shell sank to the seabed, along with a scattering of coins. Sadly, there was no card. It wasn’t going to be this turtle, either.
Deckard was just about to retrieve the spoils when a notification popped up.
You’ve unlocked a new title: [Scooba Fighter]
Scooba Fighter (Common)
You’ve learned how to fend for yourself underwater, making the water work for you instead of against you.
Effects:
Water resistance against weapons is reduced.
Stamina consumption while swimming is slightly reduced.
Conditions to unlock [Scooba Fighter]:
Defeat 100 enemies underwater. {complete}
Deckard blinked.
Sweet! A new title!
It was hard to believe that he had already hunted a hundred turtles. The title was a nice addition to [Osmotic Skin].
Curious, he swung his spear experimentally.
The weapon sliced through the water with unexpected ease, stirring up a small cloud of debris from the junk-covered seabed.
It feels so much lighter!
If swinging weapons was easier… what about card throwing?
Deckard put the spear away and pulled a card from his deck. Holding it between his fingers, he flicked his wrist and released it.
It flew a solid meter, maintaining a respectable speed before the water finally dragged it down.
It still wasn’t battle-worthy. But it was certainly progress. A grin tugged at his lips. If he could unlock a couple more underwater titles or maybe even learn a relevant skill, he might be able to attack from range while underwater. Perhaps if he practiced the motion enough and triggered a lottery skill that boosted the effect of [Scooba Fighter] further.
Satisfied, Deckard turned his gaze back to the ocean floor. Another swirling sand cloud had appeared in the distance.
He kicked off, swimming toward his next target.
Comments
ByLAWphoto
Is "scooba" a special thing in the game? Or do you mean 'SCUBA' (Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apperatus) and it's just a typo?
