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HC: Card Slinger | Ch. 55 - Turtle
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 09:00:08 +0000 UTCIt was time to start farming turtles.
Deckard adjusted his spectacles, weighing his options.
Should I fight on the surface or go underwater?
If he stayed above, he could finally return to card-slinging—something he sorely missed. More importantly, he’d be able to keep an eye on the guilds. But just as he could see them, they’d see him. Slinging cards meant drawing attention. He could also hunt with the spear while staying atop the reef—less risk, more control. Or maybe a mix of both.
He cracked his neck and dove in. The water engulfed him in a cool embrace. Sunlight speared through the shifting surface, breaking into wavy beams that flickered over the coral-studded seabed.
Turtles drifted all around him, moving with slow, effortless grace. Unlike the trash-eating seagulls that clung to the ocean floor, these creatures filled the water column, rising and falling with the current. Some nibbled lazily at the seagrass swaying on the ocean floor, while others swam higher, their shells cutting through the sunlit waves.
He spotted his first target—a turtle gliding just ahead, its shell catching the light. It noticed him but didn’t react, simply continuing its slow drift. A good thing. Its aggro range was low, meaning it wouldn’t attack unless he got too close or struck first.
Tightening his grip on his weapon, he kicked forward, steadying himself as the turtle floated within range.
Now.
Deckard thrust the spear forward.
-15!
The turtle immediately withdrew into its shell, limbs tucked in.
You’ve seen a Sturdy Turtle and how it reacts to provocation.
Your understanding of it grows.
If this were a Trash-Eating Turtle, garbage would already be floating around, ready to be hurled at him. He adjusted the spear, readying for another strike.
Then—
Tiny bubbles escaped from beneath the turtle’s shell, rising toward the surface, and a vibration rippled through the water.
What? Too fast!
The invisible force slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him tumbling backward.
-10!
You’ve seen a Sturdy Turtle use telekinesis to defend itself.
Your understanding of it grows.
The turtle suddenly kicked off with its back flippers, propelling itself away. It didn’t retreat completely but put distance between them, keeping its shell turned toward him.
Deckard righted himself. The flying trash used by the Trash-Eating Turtles was more straightforward to predict, giving him time to dodge. But this attack only slightly distorted the water and formed a few bubbles. He’d seen players evade it before, but seeing was one thing—adapting mid-fight was another.
Still, it wasn’t all bad news. The knockback was annoying, but the damage was low. Trash-Eating Turtle projectiles hit harder.
He swam back toward his target. His movements cut through the water with ease. The title [Scooba Fighter] made all the difference—where the water should have slowed him, it barely resisted.
As he closed in, the turtle stopped swimming away and tucked itself into its shell again, preparing to defend.
A vibration.
It’s coming!
Deckard instinctively shifted his weight, trying to counterbalance the force before it even hit. The next pulse blasted him backward again, but this time, he absorbed the impact better. Instead of tumbling, he turned the knockback into a controlled spin, barely losing ground before kicking forward.
Healing Ray!
+10 HP
Warm energy coursed through him, dulling the ache. He scanned his surroundings, checking for other players. Clear.
Deckard smirked.
Time to wrap this up.
With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out an empty card and pointed it toward the turtle.
Subdimensionalize!
A ripple spread from the card, distorting the water around the turtle. It barely resisted—between its low HP and all the fights Deckard had observed while mapping the bay, his Understanding Points were high enough to seal it without struggle.
You’ve captured [Sturdy Turtle].
Deckard caught the loot before it could sink toward the ocean floor, then kicked upward. Breaking the surface, he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to steady himself. His lungs weren’t burning as badly as they would have before—the [Osmotic Skin] title was doing its job. Even so, he was running on lung capacity alone and needed a break.
Swimming back to the reef, he climbed onto a shallow ledge and sat down, rolling his shoulders as he let his stamina recover. Once his breathing evened out, he opened his collection and checked his newest addition.
He recognized it immediately. One of the original cards from the Worst Deck Ever.
Back when he’d gotten that joke of a deck from Ratu, this had been one of its few creature cards. Yet, despite its humble appearance, it was surprisingly reliable. A one-cost card that provided two points of defense wasn’t bad. It wasn’t flashy, but it was consistent.
Deckard pulled out his Repository and pressed the card against its surface. A faint shimmer pulsed outward as the card dissolved into motes of light, merging into the collection.
Collection updated.
+0.1 HP.
The pages reshuffled, adjusting to accommodate the new entry. He flipped through until he spotted the Sturdy Turtle card—and right beside it, a familiar skill.
That night at the village bar, this card had helped him turn the battle against Ratu. He had used it to send back Ratu’s Macaque Leader, buying himself enough time to claw his way to victory.
Deckard narrowed his eyes, glancing back at the Sturdy Turtle card.
Wait. The skill that turtle used against me… that was probably [Psionic Push].
So he was further along in completing the Turtle Set than he had thought.
He exhaled through his nose, smirking slightly.
Satisfied with his findings, he checked his oxygen and stamina. Good enough. He pushed off the reef, scanning the waters below.
There were more cards waiting beneath the waves.
And he was going to claim them all.
*
After an hour of turtle hunting, Deckard took a breather on the reef. Unlike Trash Islet, where forced breaks were a necessity, here he could hunt practically non-stop. The turtles stayed closer to the surface, and the shallower waters meant no time wasted on deep dives.
Better yet, he could exploit their aggro, luring them toward the reef and fighting from the surface, where movement was easier and air wasn’t a concern.
His efforts were already paying off. Among his latest spoils was a new skill card.
It wasn’t bad. If he needed to dig for combo pieces, it had its uses. But the math was lousy. Spending two cards just to draw one? Not exactly a power move. Even so, having more options was never a bad thing.
For now, though, he had no intention of jumping back into the water.
Over the past fifteen minutes, the bay had grown crowded. More rafts dotted the ocean, and the islets near the center were occupied. The Mother Turtle would spawn soon.
Deckard swam toward the nearest cliff and climbed up, shaking off water as he reached a high vantage point.
Time to enjoy the show.
By his count, around twenty players from each major guild were here: the Low Lives and the Red Arms. The Red Arms controlled two reefs and had four rafts, while the Low Lives had three reefs but only two rafts—favoring territory over mobility.
Beyond them, another twenty or so players floated in the water or manned rafts. Solo players, smaller groups, opportunists.
Deckard waited, watching as tension thickened over the bay. The water rippled unnaturally, and players gripped their weapons tighter, their voices hushed. Then, a whirlpool formed at the center of the battlefield, its currents twisting as if the ocean itself was recoiling. The Mother Turtle had arrived.
It rose from the depths, its massive shell slick with water, glistening under the sunlight. Easily the size of a van, its movements sent waves rolling outward, pushing rafts and swimmers alike. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the battle erupted.
Players with ranged skills unleashed everything they had—rocks hurled telekinetically and pulses of psionic energy. Many of these skills had been farmed right here in Shell Bay. Melee fighters closed the gap, some attacking from their rafts, others swimming in to strike at the wild boss. Within seconds, the Mother Turtle was surrounded.
It fought back with force. Every few moments, a telekinetic pulse surged outward, knocking attackers away. Some tumbled off rafts, and others were sent skidding across the surface before regaining their footing. But the moment the blast faded, they swarmed again relentlessly. The turtle lashed out, headbutting those who dared get too close. Then, just as its attackers adapted to its rhythm, it pulled its limbs inward. For a few seconds, it was motionless—until its head suddenly popped out from another opening in its shell, catching fighters off guard and sending them reeling.
Despite its size, there was intelligence in its movements, but Deckard could already tell something was off. For a wild boss, it was slow and predictable. The players barely seemed concerned about its attacks, dodging and repositioning with ease.
It looks like the developers designed this wild boss to be on the easier side.
It made sense. The setting was already challenging enough. The guild war, the rafts, the reefs. Had the boss also been crazy hard to defeat, people would hate-quit the game.
The Red Arms began shifting the battle in their favor. They struck from their four rafts, focusing their attacks from one side, luring the Mother Turtle toward their reefs. The strategy was clear: pull the boss onto their territory and secure the loot.
The Low Lives, who had invested more in reef control than naval presence, found themselves at a disadvantage. But as soon as the turtle began drifting toward Red Arms territory, chaos broke loose.
The Low Lives and the guildless players abandoned their focus on the boss and turned on the Red Arms. They tried boarding the Red Arms’ rafts and yanking their players into the water. Forced to defend their positions, the Red Arms lost momentum. Without constant pressure, the Mother Turtle drifted back toward the center of the battlefield. The same pattern repeated when the Low Lives tried to claim the boss—Red Arms and guildless players attacked their rafts, forcing them to fight on two fronts.
Deckard smirked. It was a game of tug-of-war, each faction struggling to control where the turtle would drop its loot. The Red Arms wanted it on their reefs, the Low Lives on theirs, and the unaffiliated players fought to keep it neutral, ensuring an open fight for the loot.
Slowly, the Red Arms took control. Their investment in rafts and better coordination gave them the edge. The turtle inched toward their reefs, its fate nearly sealed. Then, a shriek cut through the battlefield.
Deckard leaned forward. The fight wasn’t over yet.
The Mother Turtle’s eyes burned red, and three rapid telekinetic blasts pulsed outward, forcing players to retreat, resetting their positioning. They had expected this—Phase Two was well-documented. The moment the shockwaves stopped, they surged forward again.
But the Mother Turtle wasn’t done. A second shriek followed, and smaller turtles started to surface. A powerful psionic pulse rippled through the water. The smaller turtles retreated into their shells as they were lifted by invisible force and began to rotate above the boss, hovering ominously.
The floating turtles hanging above it suddenly launched forward like living projectiles. They crashed into rafts and smashed against reefs, knocking players into the water with brutal force. The boss had turned its own kin into ammunition.
Despite the added ferocity to its attacks, even with its massive health pool, it was only a matter of time. There were simply too many players. Reaching the second phase was just a sign of its dwindling hit points. Eventually, with one final cry, the Mother Turtle collapsed.
For a moment, the bay fell silent—then the real scramble began.
The Red Arms players in the reefs closest to where the Mother Turtle had fallen leaped into the water, racing toward the boss's remains. Having won the tug-of-war game earlier, they were positioned perfectly and reached the loot first, securing the drops while the rest could only watch, helplessly out of position.
A Red Arms fighter lifted a massive chunk of the Mother Turtle’s shell from atop one of the reefs in triumph. The battle was over.
Deckard smirked, adjusting his spectacles. He looked at his inventory filled with pieces of turtle shells and smiled.
I think my plan will work.
Ch. 54 - Psychological Warfare
