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HC: Card Slinger | Ch. 35 - Sitting Seagulls
🕑 Added 2025-01-10 12:22:36 +0000 UTCDeckard stepped out of the crater and scanned the road ahead. Bloated, featherless seagulls dragged themselves over the rocks with agonizing slowness. From here to the next elite, the road would be patrolled exclusively by Terminal Seagulls.
In the past, their high HP and his limited firepower had kept Deckard from engaging them. But now, thanks to the crab cards in his repository—and especially his title—that wasn’t a problem anymore.
He strolled forward.
One of the creatures spotted him and let out a hoarse caw, daring him to approach. Deckard held his ground. After a tense pause, the seagull puffed up its chest. He braced himself, already familiar with what came next.
With a wet whoosh, the Terminal Seagull deflated, spewing a cloud of green miasma into the air. The noxious cloud expanded outward but stopped well short of Deckard’s position. He smirked.
As I thought. This is going to be a piece of cake.
These seagulls posed no real threat to him, making it the perfect time to practice his power throw. Adjusting his stance, he hurled a card with all his strength. The card flew true, striking the bloated creature dead center and triggering a critical hit.
-26!
The seagull staggered but remained sluggish, showing no urgency in its movements. Deckard’s smirk widened. Terminal Seagulls were slow, tanky, and predictable.
The perfect grind spot, he thought as he kept attacking from beyond the edge of the miasma cloud.
Most players struggled against these mobs. The number of ranged skills at this stage of the game could be counted with the fingers of one hand, and the limited ranged options often forced players into close-quarters combat, where the poison stacked quickly. But Deckard had the advantage. His cards let him attack from a safe distance, bypassing the seagull’s deadly defense.
One card after another flew from his hand, each landing with precision. As the creature’s health dipped into the red, he activated his skill.
Subdimensionalize!
The seagull vanished in a flash, absorbed into his card. Deckard studied the latest addition to his collection.
Terminal Seagull 🐦
Rarity: Common
Type: Creature
Affinity: 💨
Points: 0
Cost: 2
Effect: 🛡️+3. Your opponent draws a card.
“Ai, ai, ai. Why do all seagulls come with such terrible effects?” he muttered.
Now that he had a taste for the superior crab cards, these seagull cards felt downright awful. Gifting a free card to an opponent in a game where card draw was so meaningful? It was almost insulting. Still, a completionist’s work was never done.
Another step closer to finishing the collection.
Deckard resumed his grind. For the most part, it was mind-numbingly dull. Even so, the monotony broke in rare moments. One Terminal Seagull puffed up faster than expected, releasing its poison cloud farther than usual. Deckard darted back, narrowly avoiding the edge of the miasma.
“A bit feisty, huh?” he muttered, repositioning himself and launching another card.
He kept practicing his power throw, chaining critical hits with practiced precision. This method took slightly longer than spamming cards outright, but it was far more efficient. Each powerful hit dealt significant damage, cutting down the number of cards needed to finish off each seagull.
Unlike earlier mobs, the Terminal Seagulls didn’t force Deckard to dodge or run constantly. The only stamina he used came from the natural motion of throwing cards. While each one took longer to bring down, he didn’t need to stop and recover health or energy. One by one, the bloated creatures fell, their cumbersome forms bursting into motes of light.
Still, the grind wore on him. These creatures posed no real threat. They didn’t swarm, adapt, or even retaliate intelligently. They just stood there, absorbing damage until they crumpled.
Efficient? Yes. Exciting? No, Deckard thought, shaking his head. But the grind was necessary.
Every chipped health bar, every faint puff of miasma, brought him closer to his goal. The real challenge—and the real thrill—lay ahead, but for now, he had to endure the drudgery. Progress wasn’t always glamorous.
Finally, after dispatching another seagull, a long-awaited system notification appeared:
Thanks to persistence and resilience, you’ve unlocked a new skill: [Heavy Shot].
Heavy Shot (Uncommon)
Description: By channeling all your body movements into one throw, you can deliver a devastating strike.
Skill effect: 250% damage with one throw.
Cooldown: 30 seconds.
Energy: 10.
“Yes!” Deckard exclaimed, throwing his fists in the air. The notification was music to his ears. After countless throws, he’d finally unlocked one of the lottery skills he’d been chasing, and it was everything he’d hoped for.
The system called it [Heavy Shot], but to him, it was the perfected version of what he’d been calling “power throw.” This wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill skill—it guaranteed a critical hit, but not the usual double-damage kind. No, [Heavy Shot] packed a staggering 250% damage into a single throw.
Inside the dungeon, that meant roughly 32 damage per hit—enough to rip through most mobs’ HP bars with a single strike. Even against tougher elites, this was a game-changer.
Deckard grinned, adrenaline surging through him. This increases my chances of success.
He already felt confident about taking on the bosses in this dungeon solo, but now he was unstoppable. This skill wasn’t just a tool; it was a declaration. The grind, the patience, the persistence—it had all paid off.
Deckard traversed the stretch, the air growing heavier with each step. The chill of the sea breeze had vanished, replaced by a stifling warmth that clung to his skin like a damp blanket.
“I’d forgotten how hot it is near the Radioactive Seagull,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Ahead, the mutant seagull behemoth loomed over the clearing, its massive, bloated form glowing faintly with a sickly green hue. Poisonous mist seeped from its feathers, curling lazily through the air as if alive. Its beady eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, a predator sizing up its prey.
Radioactive Seagull (Elite)
Lvl: 4
HP: 2000
???
You’ve observed a Radioactive Seagull guarding its nest.
Your understanding of it grows.
Deckard crouched behind a boulder, shuffling his deck with practiced hands as he ran through his strategy. He’d seen this boss before, back when he was part of a group. He knew its mechanics: the rolling attacks, the poison clouds, the relentless pursuit. But knowing wasn’t the same as facing it alone.
Four Aces!
His preparations were done. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. “All right. Let’s do this.”
His first move was straightforward—a perfectly aimed [Heavy Shot] targeting the creature’s center mass. The card sailed through the air, striking true with a satisfying thwack. The impact rocked the creature, its glowing form shuddering under the blow.
-32!
You’ve observed a Radioactive Seagull’s defensive capabilities.
Your understanding of it grows.
Deckard’s grin faded as he assessed the damage. His most powerful attack—enough to wipe out 30% of a Diseased Seagull’s HP or 10% of a Terminal Seagull’s—barely made a dent, shaving off only 1% of the elite’s health bar.
The Radioactive Seagull let out a guttural squawk, the sound low and menacing. It retaliated immediately, rolling its massive body forward like a grotesque bowling ball. The ground trembled under its weight, loose gravel bouncing and skittering as the creature barreled toward him.
Deckard sidestepped just in time, his heart pounding as the seagull slammed into the rocky terrain. The impact sent debris flying, pelting his arms and legs as he scrambled to regain his footing.
Before Deckard could fully recover, the boss shifted direction, its glowing eyes locking onto him once more. Deckard cursed under his breath, adrenaline spiking. He dove to the side, launching another card mid-roll. The seagull staggered but didn’t relent. Instead, it inhaled deeply, its bloated, glowing body expanding ominously.
“Here it comes,” Deckard muttered, already backing away.
The Radioactive Seagull exhaled with a guttural hiss, releasing a massive poison cloud that spread rapidly across the arena. The thick green mist swallowed the area, the acrid scent burning Deckard’s nose and making his vision blur.
You’ve observed a Radioactive Seagull using radioactive poison.
Your understanding of it grows.
The cloud’s range was far wider than any Terminal Seagull’s, and Deckard felt the effects immediately.
-5
-5
-5
Gritting his teeth against the poison’s sting, Deckard moved quickly, circling the edge of the arena to avoid the densest parts of the cloud. He kept hurling cards, each strike chipping away at the boss’s enormous health pool. Even as he fought, the pressure crept into his thoughts.
I have no one to share the burden with. It’s solely focused on me. One mistake, and I’m done for.
He shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus. He couldn’t outrun the poison and had no choice but to keep spamming his healing skill.
Healing Ray!
+10
The boss rolled toward him again, forcing him to dodge. The seagull’s rolling attack was devastating but predictable. Deckard relied on the distance he’d created, narrowly avoiding the charging mass while still keeping his offense steady, using [Heavy Shot] whenever he could.
-13
-13
Heavy Shot!
-32!
As the poison cloud began to clear, Deckard allowed himself a small sigh of relief. His health ticked up passively, but the respite didn’t last long. The Radioactive Seagull puffed up again, readying another toxic attack.
-5
-5
“Argh! Why won’t it stop farting?!” Deckard groaned, still throwing cards. This thing’s a tank, and I’m running out of time.
Despite the help of [Healing Ray], the poison was unrelenting, and his HP bar hovered dangerously low. The cooldown on [Heavy Shot] still had a few seconds left, and all the dodging and constant healing were burning through his stamina.
“Not good,” he muttered, wincing as another -5 floated above his head.
He activated [Healing Ray] again, but his inevitable defeat clawed at the back of his mind: I can’t keep this up forever.
Healing Ray!
+10
Relief flooded him as his health bar crept out of the red. He repositioned carefully, staying just outside the boss’s range, while his eyes darted between his cards and the massive creature thrashing in frustration.
Finally, the cooldowns were up. Deckard seized the opportunity, launching a devastating [Heavy Shot]. The card struck with precision, and the seagull’s health bar dipped into the yellow zone.
-32!
This was it. He couldn’t afford to drag the fight out any longer. He activated [Subdimensionalize], the vortex appearing with a powerful pull.
But the boss resisted. The Radioactive Seagull flailed violently, its movements growing more erratic with every passing second. Deckard’s heart pounded as he watched the vortex strain to hold the creature.
With an ear-piercing screech, the boss broke free, the vortex collapsing into nothingness.
Skill failed.
“No way,” Deckard muttered, his heart sinking. Now that the elite had evaded his first capture attempt, the second one would only be harder. His victory had slipped through his fingers, and the Radioactive Seagull wasn’t done yet. The elite retaliated immediately, exhaling another massive poison cloud that spread across the arena.
Deckard cursed, retreating as fast as his legs could carry him. The poison ticked away at his health relentlessly, each step feeling heavier as his stamina dipped into the critical zone. His vision blurred at the edges, his body screaming for relief. By the time he reached a safe zone, he was practically crawling, gasping for air.
Healing Ray!
+10
The golden glow of the skill barely eased the burning in his lungs. He slumped against a jagged rock, dragging his sleeve across his damp forehead. “That was too close,” he muttered, his voice shaking from the adrenaline rush.
He stared back at the arena, where the faint glow of the Radioactive Seagull’s body was still visible through the haze of the battlefield. He’d thrown everything he had at it—his most powerful attacks, every ounce of stamina—and still came up empty-handed.
So close, but not enough.
Deckard clenched his fists, his frustration gnawing at him. He couldn’t shake the bitter taste of failure, but he knew better than to rush back into the fight. With his resources depleted and his stamina dangerously low, there was no choice but to sit down and recover.
He pulled his deck out, flipping through the cards absently as he caught his breath. The fight wasn’t over, not yet. He just needed time.
The faint chirp of gulls echoed in the distance, a cruel reminder of the challenge still waiting for him. Deckard sighed, letting his head fall back against the rock.
One step at a time.
Ch. 34 - Same Dungeon. Different Man.
Comments
Cássio Ferreira
Those are two very good observations. I'll make sure to go back and weave mentions of him replenishing his ammo, and also will consider adding such interaction when he exits the dungeon. Thank you, ByLAWphoto!
ByLAWphoto
questions: 1) doesn't Deckard have to go and pick up his cards? I would've sworn that was the case. but in the dungeon, there's no mention of it. am I just remembering wrong and they auto-return, or does he go get them "off camera"? 2) when players exit the dungeon, can other players see them? it might be a thing where he exits, someone notices that he's all alone, and he gets some bad attention. (I also kind of imagined a scene where someone makes a comment about him exiting alone and Deckard says something like, "well,..everyone else died," insinuating that his team died while not actually lying.)
Coleman
Since Deckard had to retreat from a seagull you know what we must do. It might not have been a whole flock but I’ve been waiting the whole beach adventure for this pun. Just couldn’t let it get away. Oh man, this just came to me in a flash. The seagull monarch can have a hypnosis effect. Something that makes you drop food if you don’t resist it.
