"Cheers!"
My wooden cup clinked against Imet’s. I tipped it back and gulped the wine down in loud *glug glug* swallows, liquid spilling down my chin to soak my shirt.
The moment dishes arrived, my sour mood vanished—distracted by delicious food, I’d already forgotten my earlier grudge. *He’s just an acquaintance anyway. My identity’s safe. A tiny slip-up won’t matter.*
Mistflower sat stiffly between us, nibbling a roasted lizard in tiny bites. She’d never drunk alcohol before, so she’d retreated to snacks. Seeing that annoyed me.
"Mistflower, try some wine. All that grilled meat’ll dry your throat," I coaxed, pushing the bottle toward her with fake concern.
"No! I never drink," she shook her head vigorously.
"Just a sip. Come on," Imet snatched the bottle. His grin looked suspiciously smug—but he poured only a thimbleful. *Even a beginner could handle that.*
"To Mistflower! Cheers~!" Wine always lifted my spirits.
She took a timid sip, then licked her lips. *Hmm? She liked it?* She finished the cup slowly, cheeks flushed. "Can I… have a little more?"
*Whoa.* I blinked. *She actually enjoys it? But this isn’t milk for a kitten!* Even after three large glasses, she kept sipping daintily—turns out she had quite the tolerance.
"Lefur," Imet suddenly said, "remember last time you promised a formation card duel? For my Siren?"
"Oh! Right! I’ve been eyeing that Siren card…" I downed another cup and scanned the tavern. Sure enough, holoprojectors lined one wall. "Let’s settle this today. I brought my deck."
"Fine. Witness my true strength—I’ve trained specifically for this. Got your wager ready?" Imet puffed his chest out. *Wait… what did I promise him again?* Wine fogged my thoughts.
"Sure. If you lose, hand over the Siren card. If you win…" I swayed to my feet. "I’ll give you Mistflower."
"*Cough! Cough! Cough!*" Mistflower choked, wine spraying out. Her face burned crimson. "M-me?! Give me away?! What nonsense are you spouting?!"
"Don’t worry—I’ll win. You be our referee." I ignored her protests and staggered toward the holoprojector.
"Mmph! It’s *not* fine! Win or lose, no way!" Mistflower tried to argue, but Imet patted her shoulder.
"Relax. Our real wager isn’t you. She’s just tipsy. I’ll finish the duel first. She’ll remember when she sobers up." Mistflower reluctantly stepped aside.
*Heh. I know his game.* He planned a sneak attack while I was drunk—that’s why he’d been so eager to pour drinks. *No good deed goes unpunished.* But I was only *slightly* tipsy. He thought he was tricking me… not realizing *I* was tricking *him*.
"I’ll even give you three rule advantages. Don’t say I bullied you." I waved magnanimously. Standard duels let players negotiate terms—I’d just surrendered my right to add any.
"Then I won’t hold back!" His eyes gleamed. "Battlefield: open ocean. Ten thousand troops each. Max ten troops per card. Objections?" He beamed, certain he’d chosen rules favoring his navy deck. I nodded. *Fool.* Limiting high-tier cards? Ten-thousand troops to drown elite units? *Does he think I lack rare cards? Pathetic.*
We pressed the holosphere on the table. Reality dissolved into endless sea. Imet deployed swiftly—warships materialized across the waves, soldiers swarming decks and even the water’s surface. *He borrowed cards. All naval units: cheap merfolk grunts, massive warships… but low-tier. A dark, seething mass. His strongest units? Just the Sirens and a few ships. The rest? Chum.*
"Nearly two thousand cards? Lavish." I clapped slowly. "Still setting up, Lefur? Forgot your deck?" He smirked, thinking victory was his.
"You idiot. I offered *three* rule advantages… and you only took three? If you’d demanded ten, I might’ve lost." I scoffed. *Who gives ten advantages in a fair duel?*
"Watch closely. Don’t lose confused." With a flick, I deployed—no card selection needed. My versatile air force materialized: dozens of Skyborne Warships etched with glowing defense runes, decks packed with elite mages. Hundreds of Angels flanked them, pure white wings gleaming. Not a single filler unit.
"T-this… all mid-tier cards *at minimum*?!" His face fell. "I thought I was prepared but…"
*Sigh. Kid, you just don’t grasp the terrifying power of wealth.* The battle ended fast. I didn’t even need commands. His fleet couldn’t reach us—annihilated by relentless spell barrages. Imet surrendered after ten minutes.
"Tch. Take it." Back in the tavern, he handed over the Siren card with a pout.
"Perfect." I examined my prize, then tossed him a card from my core deck. "Here. Consider it fair trade for our original wager. Treasure it."
He squinted at the illustration: a Six Winged Angel with pure white wings.
