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HC: Card Slinger | Ch. 49 - Burrowing Claw Spear
🕑 Added 2025-03-17 11:29:33 +0000 UTCDeckard passed over all the scraps Gregory had asked for, earning a broad, toothy grin from the lighthouse keeper.
You’ve transferred 50x [Copper Scraps] and 50x [Tin Scraps] to Gregory.
[Rummaging Through the Trash] is completed!
Completion rate: B+
Rewards: 50 coppers.
Bonus rewards: 35 coppers.
“You quick, foreigner!” Gregory said, eyes crinkling with amusement.
Deckard shrugged. “Wasn’t hard. There’s scrap metal everywhere.”
That was no exaggeration. Trash Islet was covered in discarded junk. Fifteen minutes was all it took to grab everything Gregory wanted.
The lightkeeper gave a satisfied nod. “Good, good. I’ll send this metal to the smithy with the next boat. But listen now—our glassblower, she be needin’ help too. She melts old glass when she can, better than makin’ new. Easier on the hands. Easier on the land. You understand, yeah?”
Deckard barely had time to nod before Gregory pressed on. “So, you go fetch bottles. But not just any junk! Gotta be glass, no plastic, and still in good shape. Can’t be bringin’ me cracked-up, salt-worn nonsense.”
Deckard frowned. What’s the point of them being in one piece if they’re just getting melted down anyway?
“…Fine. I’ll do it.”
Chain Quest Activated: [Rummaging Through the Trash] has been changed into [Rummaging Through the Trash II].
Rummaging Through the Trash II (Common)
The island’s glassblower is collecting as much glass as she can to restock her supplies. Gregory is assisting her and asks for your help in collecting 100 glass bottles in good condition.
Objectives:
Collect 100 glass bottles from the junkyard.
Return to the lightkeeper for your reward.
Deckard spun on his heel and jogged off. One quest down, two to go. Soon, he’d have that weapon in hand—just what he needed to take on the turtles.
Deckard headed toward one of the nearest junk piles by the lighthouse.
This should be easy.
He scanned the heap, spotting the dull gleam of a bottle. He reached for it—cracked. Another sat half-buried in the trash, but as he picked it up, the plastic gave under his grip. He clicked his tongue and kept searching. One bottle after another, each one broken, plastic, or completely unusable.
This pile’s been picked clean.
He straightened, scanning his surroundings. Too many players had probably started their search near the lighthouse, just like he had. It was the obvious starting point. No wonder the pile was useless.
Moving away from the entrance, he sifted through another heap of discarded junk. A minute later, his fingers brushed against something smooth and cool. Glass. Finally. He lifted the bottle, inspecting it under the light. No cracks. No missing chunks. A perfect find.
Encouraged, he pressed on, but nothing else was in plain sight.
Guess I’ll have to dig deeper.
Metal scraps clinked underfoot. He shoved his hands into the trash, shifting aside damp paper, rusted metal, and bits of ceramic. His fingers finally closed around another bottle—intact.
His heart skipped.
Got one!
He pulled it free—then scowled.
It wasn't a bottle. Just a cracked visor from some long-forgotten helmet.
Progress was slow. Ten minutes in, he checked his inventory.
[Glass Bottle] x5
Five bottles in ten minutes. At this rate, this quest will take me hours!
Deckard wiped his hands against his vest, shaking off the dirt. The first half of the quest had been simple, but he hadn’t expected glass bottles to be this scarce.
He rolled his shoulders, stretching the stiffness from his back, and glanced around. A commotion nearby caught his attention. Two players stood locked in a tug-of-war.
“I saw it first!” one growled, fingers clenched around something.
“No way! It was in my pile!” the other snapped, yanking it back.
Deckard frowned—the thing they were fighting over was a glass bottle.
Their struggle escalated, neither willing to let go, until the bottle slipped free, hit a rock, and shattered.
Silence.
“…Now look what you did,” the first player muttered.
The second let out a frustrated noise before storming off, fists clenched.
Why were they fighting over a glass bottle like it was some rare treasure?
His gaze swept the area, taking in the other players. Someone was rummaging through a pile a short distance away, tossing aside broken shards before his expression brightened. He lifted a glass bottle, its surface catching the light, before tucking it into his inventory.
Further down, another player crouched over a heap of debris, hands digging through the trash. A moment later, Deckard spotted the familiar gleam of glass just before it vanished into the player's bag.
Deckard’s stomach sank. Figures. Gregory had sent everyone on the same errand.
Scrap metal was easy—plenty of copper and tin objects littered the island. But narrowing it down to glass bottles in good condition and asking for a hundred of them had turned this into a race. The demand was too high.
At this rate, he’d be here for hours.
Deckard adjusted his spectacles and checked his oxygen tank.
[Oxygen Tank: Full]
He wiped his hands on his vest, exhaling as he scanned the piles once more. The other players were still searching, clawing through the garbage for scraps of glass. No one looked toward the water.
He thought back to all his dives. How many times had he seen another player down there? Twice? Three times?
He rolled his shoulders.
Let them fight over scraps.
Without a word, he turned toward the shore and waded in.
The moment his head dipped below the surface, the noise of the junkyard faded, replaced by the muted stillness of the ocean. He swam deeper, kicking against the current until he reached the seabed.
Last time, he’d ignored the trash and focused on the creatures. This time, he did the opposite.
A quick scan of the ocean floor made him grin.
Glass bottles lay everywhere. Some half-buried in the sand, others lodged between rocks. A few had clusters of clams latched onto them, their rough shells blending into the murky seabed.
Up above, players were squabbling over the few bottles they could find. Down here, they were everywhere.
He reached out, grabbing bottle after bottle. Every handful of sand revealed more. Some had been rolling along the ocean floor long enough to be coated in algae, their surfaces rough with barnacles. Others were still smooth, barely touched by the current.
His inventory filled quickly.
After ten minutes, he checked his bag. [Glass Bottle] x100 stared back at him.
That’s more like it.
With his haul complete, he made his way to the lighthouse. Gregory, the keeper, was chatting with another player when Deckard arrived. He finished his business with the other player, letting out a hoarse laugh before turning his attention to Deckard.
“Hi, foreigner. You done what I asked?”
“Here.” Deckard handed over the bottles.
Gregory took them with a satisfied grunt, holding them up to the light. His calloused hands handled the glass with surprising care.
"Hmm… plenty good glass. Will melt nice, make better bottles… store coconut water, maybe."
Deckard raised an eyebrow. The scent of rum practically radiated from this guy. Right, he thought. Coconut water.
A notification blinked into view.
[Rummaging Through the Trash II] has been completed.
Completion rate: A
Rewards: 1 silver.
Bonus rewards: 1 silver.
The reward felt underwhelming compared to the effort Deckard had to put into it, and that was after cheating a little. Deckard almost felt sorry for the poor players who spent hours tracking down 100 bottles in the conventional way.
Gregory busied himself, setting the glass aside and wiping his hands on his jacket. Then, as if coming to a decision, he turned back with a sly grin.
"You know what, foreigner? You help me plenty." Gregory tapped his knuckles against the lighthouse wall, eyeing Deckard up and down. "Why not I help you? Do you favor, yeah? Your gear look like it swim too much in ocean."
No kidding. The salt-stiffened leather tugged at Deckard’s skin, and he was still dripping seawater from his earlier dive. His boots let out a faint squish with every step.
Gregory rubbed his chin, nodding to himself. "Hmm… I make you mean feather cape." He paused, then smacked his lips. "No! A spear!" Another pause. "Argh, I make both!"
Before Deckard could respond, the old man had already turned, rifling through a pile of scrap like a seagull on a mission.
"You bring me claws. You bring me feathers. We scratch each other back, yeah?" Gregory shot him a toothy grin. "Darn crabs, seagulls—always mess, always fight. Seagull steal my lunch all the time! Hah! They take my fish right off grill!" He jabbed a finger toward the shore. "But worse… they mess with my trash."
Deckard blinked. "Trash?"
Gregory leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Of course?" He gestured broadly toward the islet. "You not see how neatly I keep this place? Everything sorted neatly by piles. I keep cleaning the islet up and they keep messing with my organization system."
Deckard barely stopped himself from laughing out loud. He’s gotta be kidding, right? From where he stood, the lighthouse’s surroundings looked more like a shipwreck had exploded onto the shore. Rusted metal, driftwood, crates with questionable stains—organization system was a generous term.
A new prompt flickered before Deckard’s eyes.
Chain Quest Activated: [Rummaging Through the Trash II] has been changed into [Rummaging Through the Trash III].
Gregory, the lightkeeper, knows a thing or two about crafting, and he wants to upgrade your equipment. All he asks is that you ‘take out the trash’ for him.
Objectives:
Bring [Trashy Feathers] to Gregory or;
Bring [Burrowing Claw] to Gregory.
This quest can be repeated once.
Deckard smirked. He reached into his bag and pulled out the dark, jagged claw of a Burrowing Crab. He’d been holding onto it since he’d pulled the heist on both elites at the islet.
Good thing I didn’t sell this.
With a flick of his wrist, he handed it over to the NPC.
"Here. Already handled one of them."
Gregory’s eyebrows shot up. "Oh? That quick?"
[Rummaging Through the Trash III] has been completed.
Completion rate: S
Rewards: [Burrowing Claw Spear]
Bonus rewards: 5x[Power Rum]
Seeing the glass bottles in his inventory with rum in it, Deckard chuckled. The bottles really weren’t for no glass blower, nor for storing coconut water after all.
Without another word, Gregory turned his back and shuffled toward his workbench, muttering to himself as he worked.
Deckard watched, bemused. The old man wasn’t hammering or heating anything—just moving his hands quickly, twisting, tightening, securing. The occasional clang of metal, the brief snap of something clicking into place. It was like watching a street performer tie balloons together, except instead of a dog or a sword, Gregory was assembling a weapon out of scavenged junk and monster parts.
Then, just as suddenly as he had turned away, he spun back around, holding the finished product in both hands.
The shaft was a repurposed metal pipe, sanded until it gleamed faintly. The tip consisted of the crab claw itself—sharp, jagged, and reinforced with a metal band to hold it in place. The craftsmanship was simple yet clean, the bindings wrapped tight, the weight distributed evenly.
Gregory grinned. "Good weapon, yeah?"
Deckard inspected the stats.
Burrowing Claw Spear (Common)
Gregory, the lighthouse keeper, has fashioned a spear using the claw of a Burrowing Crab. Sharp and sturdy!
Attack: 17
Crit Chance: 1%
He gave the weapon a test swing. It was heavier compared to his wooden sword but much lighter than the coral crusher. The hollow pipe shaft reduced its weight, making it easier to handle, and the claw tip—while jagged—lacked the sheer density of metal. It wasn’t as powerful, but it was faster and more maneuverable—good perks in underwater battles.
"Thank you, sir."
Gregory waved him off. "No, no, adventurer. Thank you. You done the craftsmen of the island big favor."
As Deckard left the lighthouse with the spear in his hand, he felt the weight of envious stares on his back, some with open curiosity, others with barely concealed jealousy. One muttered, "Lucky guy," while another craned their neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the item stats.
Deckard smirked and spun the spear in his grip before slinging it over his shoulder. He didn’t linger.
With quick steps, he bolted down the spiral staircase of the lighthouse.
Time to test this thing out. The turtles aren’t going to hunt themselves.
