The classroom buzzed with quiet chatter after the morning's card demonstration. But Professor Mirea didn't let it last long.
She clapped her hands twice. A light pulse echoed outward—quelling noise like a silencing bell. All conversations came to a halt.
"Now that introductions are done," she said, eyes scanning over the students with calm authority, "let's move into today's lecture—an overview of Card Master Traits."
She waved her hand, and the blackboard shimmered into life. Glowing runes danced across the surface, forming neat lists and diagrams.
"Those of you who have successfully summoned unique cards—your journey has just begun. You are no longer normal. The moment you formed your bond, a thread connected you with something greater. That bond gives back."
She tapped the board, and categories appeared:
🛡️ Card Master Trait Types
Beast Type: Enhanced physical abilities. With training, you gain [Partial Transformations]—claws, fangs, even scaled limbs during battle. You'll heal faster and gain animalistic instincts.
Elemental Type: Affinity with mana. As your card grows, so does your control over its element. Advanced users can summon elemental constructs or resist their element's damage.
Mechanical Type: Mental clarity, focus, and analytical boosts. You'll develop [Tech Sense]—letting you decipher blueprints, machines, and even break down enemy moves with precision.
Item Type: Gain spiritual synchronization. The stronger your bond with the card, the more your body synchronizes with the item's energy—leading to unique weapon summoning or armor enhancements.
Mystic Type: Variable. Depending on your card, you might awaken psychic sight, illusion resistance, time sensitivity, or completely unknown abilities. These are rare and often unstable.
"In short," she said, turning around, "you are now walking the line between human and something more. The question is: will you stumble… or ascend?"
The students nodded, some nervous, others burning with ambition.
But at the very back of the room, Ray wasn't even looking up. His head was tilted down, pen scribbling rapidly across his grimoire's blank notes section.
Training Plan – Operation: Don't Get My Face Melted
Main Goal: Charmander reaches Level 5 before practice matches.
Sub Goal: Me, not getting roasted by my own card.
He tapped his pen against his chin thoughtfully.
"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Saitama routine to start with—classic. 100 pushups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, 10km run. Every. Day."
Charmander sat beside his desk, tail flame flickering with interest, as if reading his notes.
"But that's not enough. I also need to spar with Charmander daily to train reflexes. Maybe start learning martial basics too."
He jotted down another note:
Combat Goals:
Train Ember to mid-range flame shot
Increase star proficiency of all moves (especially Smokescreen for sneak attacks)
Try combining Ember + Smokescreen (Fire Mist?)
Ray: Basic dodge, shadow step, breathing control
He paused again.
"I can't rely just on him. If I stay weak, I'll be the first target in real battle. Especially if Charmander is distracted."
Ray leaned back, thoughts spinning.
What if I get surrounded while he's fighting? What if someone tries to sneak me while I'm issuing a command?
He clenched his fists.
"No. I've gotta be strong too. Even if I'm not the fighter… I need to be fast enough to survive and smart enough to lead."
The rest of the lecture passed like wind through leaves. He barely registered the words as his battle plans grew clearer and more ambitious.
The school bell rang, pulling him back to the present. Charmander stretched, yawning, its tiny arms waving in the air.
Ray packed his things and stepped into the hall, just in time to bump into Glen.
"You look like you went full mad scientist mode," Glen said, squinting at Ray's ink-stained notes. "What, inventing a new combat style?"
"Something like that," Ray grinned. "Just don't want to be dead weight when the matches start."
Glen raised a brow. "You? Dead weight? You literally created a new species. Relax a little, man."
Ray shrugged. "If I relax now, I'll regret it later."
They walked out of the school gate together, talking about potential combo strategies, monster behavior quirks, and whether the cafeteria would finally stop serving that mushy purple paste they called lunch.
Eventually, they went their separate ways.
As Ray reached the street corner near his house, the scenery changed.
Gone were the cramped student apartments and snack stalls. In their place rose towering stone walls wrapped in ivy, and beyond them—a sprawling manor that looked like something out of a fantasy RPG.
This was the Chosen Estate—his home.
With his parents among the strongest card users in the city, wealth naturally followed. But unlike other wealthy families who flaunted status, Ray's parents had invested in something more practical.
Training grounds.
Big ones.
As soon as Ray entered through the side path, he made his way to the family courtyard—a massive open-air field marked with worn training posts, elemental practice dummies, and even a small artificial hill range.
"Alright, buddy," Ray said, rolling his sleeves up. "Let's start."
Charmander's eyes lit up, his tail flicking excitedly.
First, the basics.
Ray began jogging laps around the training field—Charmander trotting beside him, occasionally bursting ahead with a playful snort of flame. Sweat dripped from Ray's forehead, but his determination never wavered.
"Ten laps!" he shouted between breaths. "Then pushups!"
Charmander growled in agreement and flopped down beside him to begin mimic-lizard-pushups—which mostly just looked like planks with tiny claw taps.
After basic conditioning, Ray set up targets made of mana-cloth.
"Ember. Controlled. Don't set the dummy on fire."
"Char!"
Small puffs of flame shot forward, precise and tight. Some burned the edge of the target; others landed too short.
Ray watched every move like a coach, marking the hits, adjusting angles, experimenting with posture.
By the time the sun dipped behind the hills, his shirt clung to his body, and Charmander flopped belly-first onto the grass, panting slightly.
"We're… just getting started," Ray murmured between breaths, smiling despite his fatigue.
Somewhere from a high window in the manor, his mother watched with quiet approval.
"Like father… like son," Amelia whispered.