The woman screamed, "Stop falling!"
"I'm adding unpredictability!" he shouted back.
From the ground, he slapped the card against the creature's head. Green light erupted outward.
The Mire Stalker dissolved into particles, compressing into the card. When the glow faded, the imprint of a laughing frog-serpent coiled within a marsh circle shimmered faintly on its surface.
[Mission Complete]
+250 EXP
New Skill Acquired: Mire Sense (Passive)
Jeather lay flat on his back, breathing heavily, staring up at the fog-covered canopy. "Worth it."
The two Bronze hunters approached cautiously. The male scratched his head.
"You're… Silver rank?"
Jeather sat up slowly. For a split second, another memory flickered—Jefferson standing in noble attire, composed and powerful; Precious smiling sweetly with calculating eyes; the overwhelming urge to surpass them both, to crush something unseen.
The sensation faded.
Jeather looked at the hunter and answered quietly, "Master."
They laughed.
He didn't.
Because somewhere deep inside, something ancient stirred in agreement.
The fog shifted. From deeper within Balete Hollow, a presence far heavier than the Mire Stalker pulsed through the marsh. The tattoo on his arm burned faintly in response.
[Hidden Mission Triggered]
Unknown Entity Detected
Rank: ???
Recommendation: Retreat
Jeather stared into the deeper fog. Then he grinned slowly.
"…That sounds expensive."
The Bronze hunters groaned as one.
And despite being drenched in mud, slightly concussed, and holding a card containing a laughing frog-serpent, Jeather felt something awaken within him—an anticipation not entirely his own.
Not because he lacked confidence. But because he had just fought a Silver-ranked Mire Stalker, slipped in mud twice, and nearly died to something that giggled.
There were limits to ambition. He exhaled slowly and flexed his fingers, feeling the faint hum of power settle back into his veins. The nine-leaf clover tattoo dimmed to a quiet glow beneath his sleeve.
"Retreat," he muttered. "Strategic retreat. Mature retreat."
The two Bronze hunters were still staring at him.
"You're leaving?" the female hunter asked cautiously.
"Yes," Jeather replied calmly, brushing mud from his coat with the dignity of someone who had absolutely not fallen face-first minutes earlier. "Because I enjoy being alive."
He turned without further explanation and began making his way out of the marsh. This time, he stepped carefully, testing the ground before committing his weight. Growth came in many forms. Today's lesson was simple: mud is treacherous.
By the time he reached solid earth beyond the Hollow, the late afternoon sun had begun dipping toward the horizon. The Verde Region's forests glowed in warm amber light, the distant hills casting long shadows over the trade road.
Jeather paused there, finally allowing himself to breathe properly.
He removed the cards from his satchel one by one.
First: Resin Hound. The card's surface shimmered faintly amber, the image of the bark-armored beast frozen mid-snarl.
A reliable Common-ranked beast. Not rare. Not impressive. But stable.
Second: Mire Stalker. The Silver-ranked card felt heavier in his hand, almost slick with residual mana. The illustration showed the twisted frog-serpent emerging from black water, its grin disturbingly intact. The energy within it pulsed more violently than the Resin Hound's.
Jeather studied it carefully. "You're valuable," he murmured. "And slightly traumatic."
A translucent screen flickered to life.
[Card Inventory]
Resin Hound – Common Rank – Stable
Mire Stalker – Silver Rank – Stable
Verdant Abyss Demon – Common Rank (Corrupted Variant) – Growth Active
He glanced at the last entry instinctively.
The Verdant Abyss Demon's presence stirred faintly in his consciousness, ancient and watchful. It did not speak. It did not demand. It simply existed—like a forest that could swallow cities if given permission.
"I am the master," Jeather said quietly.
The pressure receded slightly, almost amused.
He slid the Mire Stalker card into a separate inner pocket. Selling it would give him breathing room.
Silver-ranked cards fetched respectable prices, especially ones freshly sealed and stable. He could keep the Resin Hound for practical use—solid frontline beast, manageable mana consumption.
Decision made, he began the walk back toward the Ardent District.
By the time he passed through the gates, the sky had deepened into evening blue. Lanterns flickered to life along the cobbled streets. Merchants called out final deals of the day.
The familiar scent of ink, parchment, and mana-infused lacquer greeted him as he stepped into the card shop that had accidentally become his teleportation point days ago.
Old Man Ruther glanced up from behind the counter. His thick brows rose slowly as he took in Jeather's mud-stained appearance.
"You look," the old merchant said carefully, "educational."
"I fought something that laughed," Jeather replied flatly.
Ruther blinked once. "Did you win?"
"Yes."
"Then you look profitable."
Jeather placed the Mire Stalker card gently on the counter. The merchant's expression shifted instantly from mild humor to professional focus.
He lifted the card, inspecting its mana flow, stability, seal integrity, and signature.
"Silver rank," Ruther murmured. "Fresh capture. Clean containment. No core fracture." His eyes narrowed slightly. "You sealed this alone?"
Jeather shrugged. "With moral support from gravity."
The old man ignored the comment. "Three hundred gold."
Jeather raised an eyebrow. "Four hundred."
"Three hundred and twenty."
"Three hundred and eighty."
Ruther studied him. "You're either bold or foolish."
"Both."
A long pause followed.
"Three hundred and fifty," Ruther said finally. "Final."
Jeather pretended to think deeply, though internally he had already decided to accept anything above three hundred. "Done."
The exchange completed, coins clinked heavily into a pouch. The weight felt satisfying.
Practical.
Tangible proof that nearly dying could, in fact, be monetized.
As he stepped out of the shop, he glanced at the modest apartment building next door.
Cracked stone walls. Narrow balconies. Faded curtains in the windows. It wasn't impressive, especially compared to Jefferson's ducal estate or Precious's royal palace in a foreign kingdom.
Jefferson Vale, son of a Duke, raised among power and politics. Precious, a princess from across the sea, elegant and calculating behind her polished smiles. Different worlds entirely.
Jeather climbed the stairs to his unit.
Inside, the apartment was simple but clean. A small kitchen. A narrow table. Two bedrooms. One empty—his sister's room. She was staying with their aunt in a neighboring district for now. Safer there. Better food. Fewer problems.
He placed the coin pouch on the table and sat down slowly.
Silence filled the room.
No fog. No mud. No giggling monsters.
Just quiet.
He pulled the Resin Hound card from his pocket and placed it beside the Verdant Abyss Demon's card. One common beast born of forest instinct. One corrupted demon born of betrayal.
And him.
A transmigrator with fragmented memories and a revenge he didn't fully remember.
Another flicker brushed his mind—rain, blood, Jefferson's calm voice, Precious's unreadable gaze. The rage stirred faintly.
Then faded.
Jeather leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
"Step one," he muttered. "Survive."
He glanced at the coins.
"Step two. Get stronger."
The nine-leaf clover tattoo pulsed once beneath his sleeve, as if agreeing.
Outside, the city lights flickered under the night sky. Somewhere far beyond the walls, stronger beasts waited. Higher ranks. Greater dangers. Emerald. Diamond. Master. Legendary.
And somewhere within the academy he had shattered, Jefferson was undoubtedly training harder. Precious was undoubtedly planning something. Power never stayed idle.
Jeather closed his eyes briefly.
He had begun as cardless.
Now he possessed a demon.
He had been expelled.
Now he had coin.
He had fallen in mud.
Multiple times.
But he had risen.
And tomorrow, he would hunt again.