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Card Crawler | Ch. 5
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 11:07:03 +0000 UTCSummer of 343, A.D.
Kai wasn’t the first to arrive. Neil had already lit the fire, and Alex, intrigued by what was under the covered contraption, had beaten him there.
“Hey, Alex,” Kai greeted as he sat down. “What’s the old fox up to?”
“No clue, but it looks fun. Hope he calls me first.”
“Nah. Neil smells fear.”
“And?”
“Come on, man. You’re not scared of anything.”
“If only that were true.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. Alex was always so put together. The idea of him being afraid of anything made him seem… almost human. “Oh yeah? What gets to you?”
Alex smirked but didn’t answer. Before Kai could push, Ariel arrived, kissing Alex’s cheek as she sat next to him.
Kai let out a slow breath. Timing. Worst timing.
“Hey, Ariel,” Alex greeted.
Kai tried to sound casual. “Hey.”
One by one, the rest of the group arrived. The conversation turned to the covered contraption, and the group threw out guesses.
“I think it’s a weird box with a hole in it. You put your hand inside, and if you answer wrong, Neil chops it off,” Alex suggested.
“Survival kits,” Clara countered. “We each get one and have to survive in the mountains for a day.”
Neil sat by the fire, pretending not to listen, though occasionally, one of their suggestions made him chuckle—or look like he was actually considering it for next time.
Finally, Sunny arrived, as usual, the last one to show up when Neil was firekeeper.
“Good. Now that we’re all here, let’s begin.”
Neil stood and pulled away the cloth, revealing his latest creation.
Kai tilted his head. It looked like… a metal armchair, wrapped in wires and tied to several batteries.
“What’s that?” Ariel asked.
Neil grinned. “A chair.”
Sunny folded her arms. “Took you two weeks to build a chair?”
Laughter rippled through the group. Neil ignored it. “As you can imagine, today is a practical class.”
The mood shifted. Kai held his breath as Neil’s gaze swept the group, searching for his first victim. For a second, their eyes met. Kai forced himself to hold the stare.
Neil’s gaze moved past him and landed on Ariel. She wasn’t as good at hiding her unease.
“Ariel, do you want to give it a go?”
She hesitated, and before Kai knew what he was doing, he was already stepping forward.
“Kai! You’re volunteering? You’ve grown a spine. Such a brave young man. Quite the catch, huh?” He winked at Ariel, and the group chuckled.
Kai rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’m just annoyed at how nicely you ask Ariel. You just bark at me.”
More laughter.
Neil gestured. “Fine. Come over, then.”
Kai braced himself. “Aren’t you going to tell me what I have to do?”
“Of course. Just sit in the chair.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Kai lowered himself into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut. He waited for the worst.
Nothing happened.
The metal was cold, the seat slightly uncomfortable, but otherwise, it was just a chair. He let out a slow breath.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Neil asked. “Now, tell me. Do you like poetry, Kai?”
Kai blinked. “Sure? I guess everyone appreciates poetry now and then.”
Neil turned. “Ariel, come here.”
She frowned. “I thought it wasn’t my turn anymore.”
“You won’t sit in the chair. Just read poetry for our brave boy here.”
Kai glanced at her, a little stunned. “And what do I do?”
“You enjoy it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Ariel hesitated but took a book from Neil’s hands and stood across from Kai. He tried to look relaxed, but when she started reading, his face grew hot.
“That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang…”
Her voice had a rhythm to it, like waves lapping against the shore. He barely noticed the words—only the way they sounded, the way her hair fell over her shoulder as she read.
Then, without warning, pain ripped through his body. His muscles seized, his back arched, and a pained grunt escaped his lips.
Ariel stopped.
“Keep going,” Neil instructed.
Kai gasped for breath. “Did you do that?”
Neil’s smile didn’t falter. “Nothing much. Just a little electric shock.”
Kai’s breath was still unsteady. “And what does that have to do with poetry?”
Neil turned to the others, voice firm. “Trials put you under pressure. Pressure is the enemy. It clouds your judgment and saps your strength. This lesson is about learning to find enjoyment even in difficulty. If you can relax, focus on something small—a cup of tea, a beautiful view—you can push through.”
Kai wasn’t convinced. Was any of this really going to matter in the trials?
But as he scanned the faces of the older challengers, the laughter was gone. Their eyes were serious, focused.
They believed it.
“Ariel, resume,” Neil prompted.
Ariel hesitated but continued. “Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang—”
Another shock. Stronger this time.
Kai clenched his jaw. He was in for a long morning.
*
Present, 353rd Daisy Trials.
How could I have been so blind?
At first glance, the pine tree had been just that—a tree. But looking closer, he had found more: moss, lichen, fungi. Now, he was realizing there was even more to uncover.
A tree wasn’t just a trunk. It was bark, branches, needles, roots, cones. The existence of the [Dry Pine Needle] card had confirmed his suspicion—if needles were separate from the tree, then maybe everything else was too.
He raised the camera, careful to exclude moss and lichen from the frame, and focused on the rough texture of the bark.
Capture successful!
Tries left: 6 of 20.
Pine Bark 🌲🛡️ (Common)
3 out of 5
HP: 2
VP: 1
A whole new layer of the challenge had been hiding in plain sight. Unfortunately, [Pine Bark] only gave him one victory point. Not great. With six tries left, he had to be selective.
If needles counted as separate, then what about branches? Or roots?
If I could just climb the tree…
If he could get high enough, he might be able to snap a picture of just the canopy. But climbing a hologram was impossible.
He lifted the camera, adjusting the angle, trying to frame only the green needles. Too much clutter—branches, trunk, sky. Was this even worth a shot?
He clicked the shutter.
Capture failed!
Tries left: 5 of 20.
He exhaled sharply. Another wasted shot.
It wasn’t enough to just find something photographable. If the subject wasn’t clear, the capture would fail. Lesson learned—at the cost of victory points.
He scanned the ground for roots. Only a few peeked out, as pine tree roots typically ran deep underground. Pine needles covered everything, and he couldn’t move them aside. He tried with his foot, but it was useless. Daisy only allowed him to step on the ground, not interact with it in any other way.
Fine. The trunk, then.
This time, he framed just the trunk, blurring the background to keep the shot clean.
Capture successful!
Tries left: 4 of 20.
Pine Trunk 🌲📏 (Common)
4 out of 5
HP: 3
VP: 0
Another card with no victory points. Worse than [Pine Bark]. If he had taken a second shot of bark earlier, he would have been better off. For the first time, even though he was certain he could capture a card, he chose to pass.
More than just taking pictures, he needed to take the right ones. Every mistake was a lost opportunity.
Feeling that he had pushed the principle of breaking objects down into parts as far as he could, he decided to move on.
He spotted a bed of fly agaric nearby and approached it.
I wonder if I can also capture individual parts of the mushroom. He pointed the camera downward, trying to frame only the cap, but it was difficult to get a clean shot without including other elements. The stem was even worse—no way he could isolate it properly.
As he experimented with the angles, something felt… off.
He blinked, refocusing on the viewfinder. The pine needles, the mushrooms, the forest floor—they were all there. But something was missing.
My foot.
He shifted his weight, moving his leg slightly to the side. It didn’t show in the camera. He lifted his free hand, waving it in front of the lens. Nothing.
A strange chill ran through him. Was this a bug? Or something intentional? Could it be that, just like he phased through objects, light also passed through him? If that were true, then he wasn’t just a ghost in this world—he was an absence.
So I can’t photograph myself. Another rule for the rulebook.
Kai looked around, searching for another way to apply the Gestalt Theory. He’d tested it on trees, mushrooms, and even himself. But if there were other objects with distinct, capturable components, he couldn’t see them. He was stuck again.
He needed another way to fill in the rest of the slots. With no better options, he pulled up his inventory to check his collection.
Inventory:
· Pine Tree 🌲
· Moss 🌿×2
· Lichen 🍃
· Fly Agaric 🍄×2
· Bear Bread 🍞🍄×2
· Pine Bark 🌲🛡️
· Dry Pine Needle 🌲🍂
· Pine Trunk 🌲📏
Out of 16 attempts, five had failed. A 30% failure rate. More wasteful than he had expected. He counted his total points: 20.
Was that good or bad? He had no way of knowing. For all he knew, someone else had already passed 50. Or maybe no one had even reached 10. The uncertainty gnawed at him.
Four captures left, forty minutes remaining. Time was no longer the issue—his remaining shots were. It was time to change tactics.
Mapping the arena might be useful. There was a chance he would return to this place later or be transported to a similar one if the trial had another stage.
Recalling one of Neil’s old survival tricks, he studied the tree trunks, searching for moss. It preferred the shade, growing mostly on the north-facing side. A simple trick, but useful when compasses weren’t an option. Now that he had his bearings, he retraced his steps in the direction he had come from after hitting the invisible wall earlier. Sure enough, he found it again.
The biggest problem now was finding a landmark. A tree with a specific mushroom might work, but he had a better idea. He grabbed the machine hanging around his neck and tried pulling it off. To his relief, it detached. He placed it gently on the ground. If he was right, the game wouldn’t let him lose such an essential item. If he was wrong, well… it wasn’t like he could get far without it. He hesitated for a second, then let go. The camera remained still. That was a good sign.
With his right hand against the invisible wall, he checked the clock, watching as the seconds ticked down. The moment it hit zero, he started running counterclockwise, keeping his pace steady and counting the steps he took over the next minute. If the arena had corners, he should have hit one by now, but the wall continued uninterrupted. Adjusting his rhythm, he kept moving.
Several minutes passed, and still no corner. The wall wasn’t straight—it had a slight curve. That meant he wasn’t in a square or rectangular space. It was a dome. No shortcuts, no edges to cut through, just an endless loop.
He kept his speed steady, eyes scanning the ground for the camera as he neared the end of his lap. Finally, he spotted it again. Glancing at the clock, he checked his time.
Twenty-one minutes and four seconds. That was how long it took to run a full lap around the arena.
Knowing how much time it had taken him to run around the arena, it was all a matter of doing some simple math. He had been running at a pace of about 180 steps per minute, and the average length of his steps was 75 centimeters, making his running speed 135 meters per minute. That multiplied by 21 put the circumference of the arena at roughly three kilometers, which meant the entire space was less than a kilometer across.
He wasn’t sure how valuable this information would prove to be, but he couldn’t afford to waste more time thinking about it.
He only had four shots left. He had to figure out how to make them count.
