Then came the glyphs—golden, spinning, divine. They shimmered like burning snowflakes before collapsing into a single point. With the sound of a page turning, the Akashic Record appeared, sipping a tiny porcelain cup of espresso as though she hadn’t just bent the laws of reality.
“So,” she said, brushing soot off her coat. “Done with your petty squabble?”
“No,” Vaelreth said with a flick of her tail, which now dragged behind her human form in frustration. “But I’m too tired to melt his boots again.”
Nolan tied his laces with all the seriousness of a man clocking in. “You’re here to send us off, right? Let’s get this started.”
The Akashic Record extended a single finger. A new portal shimmered into being, thin as paper but pulsing with energy.
“This dungeon’s not like the Firebase. No fixed attribute. Goblins, undead, curses, beasts, you name it. It’s a chaotic dungeon—thirty floors. The Lich you’re looking for is on floor fifteen.”
“Convenient,” Nolan muttered, “halfway checkpoint.”
“You won’t get there easily. The Lich... suffers from the Curse of Memory. A rather unpleasant artifact.”
Vaelreth crossed her arms. “He forgot everything?”
“No,” the Record said with a tight smile. “The world forgot him.”
That gave Nolan pause. He slid the strap of his deck pouch snug against his chest. “Sounds like a marketing nightmare.”
“He’s only still alive because he once walked the Glory Road. It anchors him. But he hasn’t changed the world much. Just floats there. Waiting.”
“Charming,” Nolan said. “Forty cards. Most situations covered.”
Vaelreth rolled her eyes, “Still acting like your paper scraps mean anything against the divine.”
The Record looked between the two, sighed, and sipped her espresso. “I’m off. Good luck.”
Then she vanished, like a dream chased from sleep.
The divine portal rippled as Nolan and Vaelreth stepped through. On the other side: grandeur.
Massive stone columns, wrapped in moss and etched with forgotten runes, stretched into darkness. Flickering torches ignited as they passed, revealing a cavernous hallway lined with skeletal statues, some cracked and slumped, others standing tall as if waiting.
Vaelreth’s breath hitched.
“This…” she said softly. “This feels like home.”
Nolan glanced up, blinking as a dust particle floated onto his eyelashes. “Looks like a plumbing nightmare.”
The portal shimmered shut behind them, a final chord of divine music echoing once before the silence of the dungeon reasserted itself.
A light buzz tickled Nolan’s collarbone—his pendant glowing faintly. Words etched themselves across his field of vision via his Focus Amulet:
Dungeon Floor 1: Hall of the Nameless. Environmental Type: Hybrid – Undead/Beast. Caution: Memory Distortion Detected.
Nolan opened his deck pouch. “Let’s test the waters.”
He activated Tome of Preparation. Five cards hovered midair before him, translucent and glowing. Three were Hero-type.
“Good spread. No need to reset yet.” He slipped two into his hand with a flick of his wrist.
Vaelreth tilted her head, watching. “You plan to test all forty here?”
“I’m not running a QA lab,” he said. “But this dungeon's perfect for pressure-testing.”
She crossed her arms. “Still don’t get why you rely on tokens and swings when magic is faster.”
He ignored her and activated Martial Arts Book. A ghostly scroll unrolled before him.
“Selected: Cross Slash. Martial Token +1.”
His deck glimmered slightly. Meditation pulsed in the background, recycling old tactics into new strategies.
Vaelreth watched his hands with narrow eyes.
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“You’re building your engine,” she said.
“Of course,” Nolan said. “If I can’t draw the right cards, I might as well quit and file paperwork.”
A few steps into the corridor, the tension snapped.
Vaelreth grinned and flung a Firebolt his way. “Catch!”
His pendant flared.
Focus Amulet + Hero’s Mantle combo triggered.
Nolan didn’t hesitate. Quick Step — a dash of light propelled him forward. The flame passed behind him. He activated Counter Vault, leaping behind her with a roll and pulling Hero’s Blade: Graham mid-air.
“Still testing me, huh?”
“Just making sure you’re not slacking.”
“I’m always slacking. I just make it look good.”
The corridor trembled. A bony hand clutched a pillar.
Then another.
Goblinoid skeletons crawled out, their eyes glowing with eerie blue light. Cracked weapons, dented shields. They hissed and charged.
“Guess it’s showtime.”
Nolan’s hands blurred.
Parry — the first skeleton’s blade deflected. Cross Slash — two strikes, one Martial Token spent. Momentum Draw — a shimmer of light and another card appeared in hand. One more Token.
He rolled forward, past another skeleton, activating Sword Aura.
Then Quick Step again. He vanished mid-lunge and reappeared behind three skeletons.
Lightning Blink. Three heads rolled before they hit the floor.
Vaelreth ignited the air. A wall of flame reduced five skeletons to ash. But her eyes were on Nolan’s movements, not her enemies.
“You make those tokens dance.”
“Years of office keyboard shortcuts. Just apply it to swordwork.”
One final skeleton staggered forward, half-crumbled. It wore a blackened charm around its neck.
Nolan kicked it aside and picked up the charm.
Etched into it was a whisper of thought. Barely audible. Barely there.
“The Lich once stood here... and no one remembers.”
He turned it over. Nothing. No aura. No power. Just a whisper.
Vaelreth approached. “The curse?”
He nodded slowly. “If the world forgets you existed... does that mean you never mattered?”
She was silent for a moment, then said:
“Only if you leave nothing behind.”
Nolan gripped Graham tighter. “Then let’s make sure we do.”
The dungeon corridor widened into a rest chamber, framed by pillars of moss-coated granite and whispering torches that burned without smoke. A central fountain burbled faintly, though its water glowed faintly blue. A strange magic, ancient and neutral.
Nolan sat on the rim of the fountain, pulling a sealed ration from his pouch and tearing it open with a tired grunt. “Taste of chalk,” he muttered, chewing. “Still better than convenience store sandwiches.”
Vaelreth floated near the ceiling before landing gracefully, arms crossed, her cloak flicking behind her like a willful flame. “I still don’t understand your obsession with martial cards. You’re surrounded by magic, yet you insist on playing footsies with goblins.”
Nolan didn’t even blink. “I can’t use magic.”
She blinked. “Wait, you mean—”
“No attribute,” he said, tapping his forehead. “My mana's inert. Talent’s Full Body Control. That means if I want to do something flashy, I gotta write it down, turn it into a card, and physically do it. No fireballs unless I throw them.”
Vaelreth stared. “That’s... horrifying. You’re fighting dragons and liches with calisthenics and note-taking.”
He shrugged. “Worked so far.”
She flicked a hand, a lazy flame trailing from her fingertip. “I could end half your fights with a single wide-area spell.”
“You could. If you weren’t stuck in a human body,” Nolan said, pointing his fork at her. “And if your deck wasn’t one massive graveyard trigger away from exploding in your face.”
Her tail — more cloak than real tail now — twitched irritably. “My deck is optimized for mass spells. The more fire cards in the graveyard, the more amplified my output. It’s reactive evolution. I burn what I don’t need to fuel what I do.”
He held up a card — Martial Arts Book. “This lets me grab what I need, when I need it. One token per play, and Meditation lets me recycle. My deck is flexible. Redundant. Yours is... flashy, but brittle.”
“Brittle?” Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re not a dragon anymore, Vaelreth. You need more than instincts now.”
A beat of silence.
Then she sighed. “Fine. I admit... I may have been leaning too hard on my graveyard multipliers. But tell me this, deck technician—can your blade make a crater in the ground?”
He chuckled. “Probably. If I use Hero’s Blade: Graham, combo it with Sword Aura, spend three Martial Tokens, follow up with Quick Step and Cross Slash, I might just draw a line across the world.”
“That’s... a lot of steps.”
“But clean,” he said, flicking a card toward her. “I can mix and match. If Disarming Jab fails, I still have Counter Vault to reposition. If I get hit, Ancient Shield is a reactive defense. And the whole system’s backed by draw tools. Not luck.”
Vaelreth paced a slow circle around him. “So you plan every move, with a safety net for every misfire. No leaps of faith.”
“Leap of faith is a bad term in data analysis,” Nolan said, standing. “I take educated steps. You, though—you jump in headfirst, praying your fire gets hotter before the enemy gets smarter.”
“And yet,” she smirked, “I’ve burned more armies than you’ve run simulations.”
He extended his hand. “Race the next five floors. You use your scorched-earth tactics. I’ll use my boring, flowy martial combos. If I win, you stop trying to light my cloak on fire.”
“And if I win?”
“You get to rearrange my deck. One time. No fire cards.”
She grinned, sharp teeth visible. “Deal.”
The resting chamber narrowed toward a dim stairwell, its entrance marked by a series of fading runes etched into the floor.
As Nolan stepped forward, something pulsed beneath his boot — a faint blue glow like the echo of a memory. He paused, glancing down. “Did I just step on something ancient?”
Vaelreth crouched near the rune, her eyes narrowing. “This isn’t undead magic. It’s older. Binding... but broken.”
The rune flared once, whispering in a language neither of them spoke. But the meaning pressed into their minds with dreadful familiarity:
“The Lich once stood here... and the world wept, then forgot.”
Nolan looked up, brows furrowing. “A memory curse that makes the world forget you, not the other way around. That’s... harsh.”
“Worse,” Vaelreth said. “It means he exists in isolation. Undeath without recognition. Pain without legacy.”
Nolan exhaled slowly. “If the world forgets you existed... does that mean you never mattered?”
Vaelreth’s reply was quiet. “Only if you leave nothing behind.”
The stairwell ahead loomed darker than before. Stone steps descended into silence, and at the top, etched on the ceiling arch, was a mural of a man cloaked in gold and black. A road of radiant light stretched behind him — the Glory Road. But his face... was scratched out. Erased.
They stood in silence.
Then Nolan drew a card, flipped it between his fingers, and murmured, “Let’s make sure someone remembers.”
They descended.