Alex sat cross-legged on the threadbare rug in his cramped bedroom, door firmly locked against prying brothers or servants.
Moonlight filtered through cracked shutters, casting silver glows across the eight—no, nine Aether Cards laid out in a neat arc before him.
The new one, Boar Vanguard, dominated the center.
Kora's painted eyes seemed to follow him, hammer resting casually on one shoulder while Grimgut pawed the card's border impatiently, snorting faint wisps of steam that weren't really there.
The silver chest from Roland's defeat hovered nearby, already cracked open. Gold coins were stacked in tidy piles—1,200 total. Three Epic scrolls pulsed violet like distant lightning. A handful of Rare scrolls glowed blue. Enough to make real changes.
First things first: upgrades.
Alex touched the Shieldbearer card. The grizzled warrior appeared in miniature above it, arms crossed, scarred helm glinting.
Current level: 4 → Max for Commons in Gremlin Pits: 7.
He fed it gold and two Common scrolls from daily shops he'd mentally noted. The card flared, runes brightening. The Shieldbearer's armor thickened slightly, dents smoothing out, shield growing heavier and etched with fresh wards.
Level 5. Then 6.
The voice in his head sounded satisfied. "Better. I might actually survive a real fight now."
Next: Ravager. Level 3 → 5 with one Rare scroll and gold.
The masked berserker's axes sharpened visibly, purple energy crackling along the edges like hungry flames.
"Good," it growled, deeper now. "More speed. More blood."
Alex paused at Gremlin Horde. Six little maniacs danced in place on the card, stabbing the air with renewed vigor.
Level 4 → 6. Their knives lengthened, eyes glowed brighter, green skin taking on a sharper sheen. One gremlin winked at him, then flipped a dagger playfully.
"We stronger now, boss! More stabby! You throw us soon, yeah?"
" Soon" , Alex answered silently. The chorus quieted to eager giggles.
He left the spells and buildings at current levels—cycle cards needed numbers, not raw power yet.
Finally, the prize: Victor's three Epic scrolls.
There were no Epics in his deck yet, but the scrolls could be traded or saved. He tucked them into the small rune-etched box Elias used for valuables, the lid clicking shut with a satisfying finality.
Now: deck adjustment.
The old starter setup was solid for defense, but with Boar Vanguard, he needed speed. Aggression. Punishment.
Alex swapped out Flame Burst—too expensive at 4 Aether for now—and slid in the boar.
New deck:
Boar Vanguard – 4
Shieldbearer – 3
Ravager – 4
Gremlin Horde – 3
Spear Throwers – 2
Ward Post – 3
Gust Burst – 1
Scatter Shot (Arrows) – 2
Average Aether: 2.9
A true cycle deck. Fast. Relentless. Built to punish overcommits.
He leaned back against the bedframe, staring at the ceiling. The room smelled of old dust and candle wax.
Elias's memories lingered at the edges—years of hiding in here after losses, nursing bruises from "training" sessions Roland called sparring. Faded bruises still yellowed on his arms in the moonlight.
Alex exhaled slowly.
This world was brutal. Duels decided status, land, even life. Nobles gambled entire baronies on three-minute battles. Commoners fought in lower pits for scraps. And somewhere higher up, kingdoms waged war through massive clan sieges.
But the rules were clear. Predictable. Like ladder. Win rate mattered. Meta shifted. Knowledge was power.
He'd spent years studying card interactions, elixir counts, tower HP thresholds, spawn timings. Here, that knowledge translated directly into survival.
A soft knock at the door.
Giles's voice, muffled. "Young master? Dinner is served. Your father requests your presence."
Alex's stomach twisted. He hadn't met the old man yet in this body. Elias's memories painted a cold, calculating figure, distant, disappointed, always measuring worth in trophies and arena ranks.
He stood, gathering the cards. They vanished into his palm with a warm pulse, ready at thought.
"Coming," he called.
The dining hall was dimly lit, long table set for four though only three places had silverware. Father sat at the head, tall, silver-haired, face sharp as a blade. Victor and Roland flanked him, both silent.
Lord Voss's eyes—same gray as Elias's fixed on Alex as he entered.
"So," the old man said, voice like gravel. "Two victories in one day. Against a Cole pup and your own brother."
Alex took his seat. "Yes, Father."
"Flukes?"
"No."
A long pause. Servants brought soup. No one touched it.
Lord Voss steepled his fingers. "The kingdom's regional tournament begins in two weeks. Bone Wastes to Warlord's Coliseum tiers. Our house has not qualified a representative in six years."
Victor smirked behind his goblet.
Father continued. "If you lose in the qualifiers, you will be sent to the border legions. No more duels. No more chests. Manual labor until you earn a commission... or die."
Alex met his gaze evenly. "And if I win?"
A flicker in the old man's eyes—surprise? Interest?
"Then you represent House Voss. Resources will follow. Card shops. Training grounds. Perhaps even a clan invitation."
Roland shifted uncomfortably. Victor's smirk vanished.
Alex nodded once. "Understood."
Dinner passed in tense silence after that.
Back in his room, Alex sat by the window, watching moonlight on the overgrown gardens.
Two weeks to climb arenas. Unlock better cards. Build a real deck.
He pulled out Boar Vanguard again. Kora's voice rumbled softly.
"Big fights coming, rider?"
"Yeah," Alex murmured. "Big ones."
He thought about Earth—his cramped apartment, glowing phone screen, endless ladder grind. Rage-quitting a tournament. The truck.
None of it felt real anymore.
This did.
The weight of cards in his hand. Voices of summoned warriors. The sting of expectation in his father's words.
He wasn't just playing a game now.
He was living it.
And tomorrow, he'd start grinding—for real this time.
No disconnects.
No second chances.
Just Aether, towers, and the climb.
Alex smiled into the dark.
"Time to hit the meta."