Deckard crossed the boardwalk and stepped into the familiar confines of the Silver Shell. The store felt as it always did—crowded with the smell of salt and the faint scent of aged wood. He approached the counter and started taking stack after stack of feathers, about 300.

  When I first started, I couldn’t even take down a single seagull. A single feather felt like a prize. Now I’ve got enough to stuff a mattress.

  “Hi there. I’ve got some feathers to sell.”

  Today, Laisenia wore a bright purple floral shirt. Hearing that Deckard had something to sell, he smiled, showing his crooked teeth. “Oh, very good, very good.” He began sorting through the feathers with the precision of someone who had done this countless times.

  Deckard waited, glancing over his shoulder. Near the entrance, a younger player in beginner drabs stood stiffly, his eyes glued to Deckard. His gaze flitted from Deckard’s coconut vest to his spectacles and the mound of feathers on the counter. The longing on his face was painfully obvious, but he said nothing, just shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, his hand twitching near his satchel as though debating whether to ask Deckard for tips—or a handout.

  Deckard smirked to himself. He probably thinks I’m a pro. I'm only one day in, and I’ve already got the aura of a veteran. Oh… the irony.

  The NPC continued counting, his hands working quickly, and Deckard opened the shop’s inventory window to kill time. He’d browsed it before but hadn’t paid much attention. His cursor scrolled past the usual assortment of healing potions, fishing bait, and the shop’s map.

  Then he stopped. His eyes narrowed.

  Power Rum (Consumable)

  A fiery brew favored by daring adventurers. Sharpens the senses while setting the throat ablaze.

  Item effects: Grants +5 Attack for 1 minute.

  Cost: 1 silver.

  Deckard let out a low whistle. “Didn’t realize you sold something like this,” he muttered under his breath.

  “This rum, oh, it come from old man Ratu,” the shopkeeper said, tapping the counter for emphasis. “He not share de recipe, even with his wife! But drink it? Ah, you feel like sea wind at your back, ya?”

  Deckard almost choked. “Ratu?! He brews rum?” His mind flashed back to the stinky fisherman who’d shoved him off the boat like a spoiled child. The idea that Ratu, of all people, was behind this “adventurer’s brew” was almost laughable. Instantly, the item’s appeal dimmed. He was already imagining the smug grin on Ratu’s face if he knew Deckard had bought it.

  The rum was still tempting, though. For a moment, Deckard imagined using it mid-battle. The added attack power would let him rip through even the toughest seagulls like tissue paper—seven damage per card. Even the bloated seagulls wouldn’t stand a chance.

  But the more he thought about it, the more it felt like a waste. The effect only lasted a minute, and it wasn’t cheap. He had bigger plans for his silver than a one-shot advantage.

  “Ya,” the shopkeeper said, breaking into his thoughts. “Four silver and three copper for dis lot.”

  “Deal,” Deckard replied. The clink of coins landing in his pouch was satisfying, even more so when he realized his total now sat at six silver—enough to buy six barrels of rum if he’d wanted to. Not that he was planning to.

  He turned to leave, still feeling the awkward gaze of the beginner player on his back. Deckard allowed himself a small chuckle. He’s probably wondering how I made it this far. Keep grinding, kid. You’ll get there.

  At the doorway, Deckard paused. His thoughts drifted back to the rum. He frowned, his mind warring with itself. Was he being cautious—or wasteful? Better to have it and not need it, right?

  Then another thought struck him: Did he really want to give one silver coin to that stinky fisherman who’d pushed him off the boat? He could practically see Ratu’s satisfied smirk like he’d pulled one over on him. Deckard groaned, rubbing his temple. Was his pride worth more than being prepared?

  With a sigh, he turned back to the counter. “Alright, give me one barrel of that rum.”

  The shopkeeper grinned wide as if he’d expected this all along. “Ah, smart man. Dis rum, it is too good, ya?”

  “We’ll see,” Deckard muttered, slipping the coin over. The small barrel landed in his inventory with a satisfying click. One silver lighter, he stepped back into the sunlight, heading toward the pier.

  The pier bustled with life, as it always did. Player vendors shouted over one another, hawking their wares, loudly proclaiming that even the cheapest beginner junk was a rare artifact of legend—anything to get customers to come over.

  Apart from the players, the NPCs added to the liveliness of the place. Fisherman NPCs readied their boats, chatting loudly or unloading crates of their catch. Ratu wasn’t to be seen, though. Deckard wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed. Deckard still had no idea where he’d gone.

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  Deckard weaved through the commotion, his eyes scanning the players’ stalls for anything of value. He paused at one vendor displaying a rusted anchor. It reminded him of the one his customer had once wielded on her back. It looked pretty cool but did nothing for Deckard. He sighed, moving on.

  He passed by rows of trinkets, gear, and baubles, none of them particularly useful. There was no piece of equipment other than weapons, which boosted attack. Finally, he gave up. Time to let the players come to me.

  Deckard wandered along the pier, scanning for an unclaimed corner. Most of the better spots were occupied by players already hawking their items. Finally, he found a small gap between a vendor selling salted fish and a pair of players deeply engrossed in a trade. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. He knelt, carefully laying out eight different cards from his growing collection.

  Unlike the last time, when all he had were a few lowly [Seagull Poison] cards to trade, his collection had grown significantly. He spread the cards in neat rows, their glossy surfaces catching the sunlight. Then he stood, calling out to the crowd.

  “I’m looking to trade my cards for others I don’t own yet or for pieces of equipment that grant attack points!” His voice carried over the din of the market.

  The sight of someone offering so many cards at once was rare, and it didn’t take long for a small crowd to gather. Murmurs rippled through the group as players examined his collection.

  “Oooh. So many?!”

  “Sweet.”

  Despite their enthusiasm, many inspected his cards with a grimace, quickly realizing the challenge. Most of them were holding duplicates that Deckard already owned. They’d have to offer something unique to strike a deal.

  The crowd quickly dispersed, but Deckard kept shouting his offer. After a few minutes, a player stepped forward, holding up a card. “Hey, I’ve got a card for you.”

  Deckard raised an eyebrow, curious. “Let’s see it.”

  The player handed over the card, its surface depicting a crab mid-fight:

  Scizor Strike (Common)

  By observing a crab fight, you can mimic the motion he makes with his claws and deal more damage.

  Effects: Deals 70% damage twice in quick succession.

  Deckard’s pulse quickened. It was a skill card, one he didn’t have, and more importantly, it mentioned crabs. Finally, something other than seagulls! The prospect of expanding his collection beyond gulls sparked genuine excitement. If this card was crab-related, what other bonuses might it unlock?

  “So, do you get these on the island?” he asked, trying to mask his interest.

  “Yeah, from the crabs,” the player replied.

  Deckard leaned in, intrigued. “Are those the monsters we hunt after seagulls?”

  The player nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

  Deckard studied the trader more closely. Unlike the beginners in the crowd, this player’s gear marked them as someone with experience. Their leather boots were worn but sturdy, paired with a reinforced jacket lined with steel studs. A sturdy belt carried a pouch of consumables, and a worn scabbard hinted at weaponry beyond the starting tier. This was someone who’d been in the game longer than him.

  “Cool,” Deckard said. “Thanks. So, which card do you want to trade for?”

  The player pointed at the only creature card before Deckard: [Diseased Seagull].

  Deckard hesitated. Creature cards were valuable, far more so than skill cards. Trading one felt like giving away a trump card. But thanks to his hidden class, he could get creature cards much more easily. This trade wasn’t as costly for him as it might have been for others.

  “Very well, you’ve got a deal,” Deckard said, completing the trade.

  He looked left and right, and making sure no one was looking, he turned around and added the card to his repository. As it assimilated the new skill card, a notification popped up.

  +0.1 attack.

  Deckard’s eyes widened. “Attack? Crab cards grant attack bonuses?!” His heart raced. This was exactly what he’d been searching for! He’d been frustrated by his inability to increase his offensive power. Now, with this card, the possibilities opened wide.

  “Where is he?!” Deckard’s gaze darted around, searching for the player. But the trader had already slipped away into the crowd. “Argh. Where did he go?” Hurriedly, he packed up his wares, fumbling in his rush to chase after the player.

  Deckard left the pier, headed into the village, and finally, he spotted the trader near the entrance to the Silver Shell. “Hello! You!” Deckard called, sprinting over.

  The player turned, startled, their hand already on the hilt of their weapon. “What? Anything wrong with the card?” they asked reflexively, clutching their new card protectively as though Deckard might demand it back.

  Deckard shook his head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just need to know where I can find crabs.”

  “Oh, easy. Just keep walking past Gull’s Rock, and you’ll get to Shell Bay.”

  Deckard blinked. “Shell Bay?” The name was new to him.

  “Yeah,” the player replied, relaxing slightly. “The crabs are all over the place there. They’re not too hard to spot.”

  “Cool, thanks. I appreciate it,” Deckard said, nodding. His mind was already racing.

  Attack bonuses. The thought of improving his damage output was exhilarating. With his current deck of 52 cards dealing 2 points of damage each, his total output barely scratched past 100 damage. Against tougher monsters with defense bonuses or resistance, his numbers could potentially drop even further, leaving him scrambling to finish fights.

  Starfish cards had been a nice addition—they helped him regenerate HP and boosted his survivability. Clam cards had added a bit of defense. But they were passive solutions, only prolonging fights rather than ending them.

  Seagull cards, on the other hand, had given him a 1% attack speed bonus after collecting over ten of them, but the effect was so minor it was barely noticeable. What good was attack speed when his cards dealt hardly any damage? It only allowed him to run through his ammo faster.

  Now, with crab cards, there was a chance to break free of his limitations. Each crab card granting 0.1 attack points might not seem like much on paper, but it was the first real sign of progress—something that could finally push him past the wall he’d been stuck at. A full attack point—or maybe even two—would be a game-changer, finally giving him the tools he needed to handle the larger seagulls and even the elite monsters lurking in Gull’s Rock.

  It was tempting to abandon the seagull collection entirely. The completionist perfectionist in him urged him to finish it before moving on, but Deckard wasn’t so sure that was the right move anymore.

  Other players rely on their levels and stats to decide when to move to a new hunting ground. With my hidden class, I don’t have that luxury. His path wasn’t as linear—it meant experimenting, testing his limits, and figuring things out on the fly.

  The wind had changed. He felt it was better to move on to the crabs and return to the seagulls later. Even if he only got one attack point from the crabs, it might be exactly what he needed to take down those bloated seagulls.

  With his mind set, Deckard left the village.

  Let’s hunt some crabs!

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