Inside the newly built card-making workshop of Chris Guild, nearly a hundred Spirit Glyphsmiths gathered.
Each had their own workstation—silver pens, Spirit Cards, and materials fully stocked.
Normally, they spent days mass-producing Magical Girl Monkey Burn cards. But recently, that halted. A new task replaced it: analyze a single Spirit Card!
Deciphering a Spirit Card drained mental energy. So the guild allowed one hour of rest for every hour worked.
Snacks, treats, and magic-infused premium drinks were plentiful. Even the break hour counted as paid time—and wages had tripled compared to Magical Girl Monkey Burn production!
If that was merely comfortable treatment, the most irresistible perk was the overtime bonus.
Gold coins? Trivial. Work from dawn till deep night? The Guild Master would summon beauties from other towns to accompany you for the night.
Day one: thrilled. Most Glyphsmiths even deliberately dragged their feet or let minds wander, hoping to prolong the luxury. After all—a single beginner-level Spirit Card? With nearly a hundred of them, shouldn’t it be cracked in moments?
But that evening, during rest and discussion, an alarming discovery surfaced. A few had worked diligently all day… yet made zero progress.
Day two: excitement turned to suspicion. Everyone threw themselves in, determined to uncover why this card defied understanding.
Result? Eerie. Progress remained at zero.
Nearly a hundred beginner-level Spirit Glyphsmiths—two full days on one beginner card—and nothing.
Chris visited often, arriving hopeful, leaving furious.
The Glyphsmiths grew haggard. Then, during his next visit—something snapped.
One suddenly slammed the table—*bang, bang!*—and shot up shouting, “Ura!!”
“What?! Did you crack it?!” Chris leaned in eagerly.
The Glyphsmith didn’t disappoint. Bloodshot, glassy-eyed behind his spectacles, he nodded fiercely.
“I can replicate it perfectly! Guild Master, watch—”
He grabbed a blank Spirit Card. Under Chris’s hopeful gaze, his other hand didn’t reach for a pen. Instead, he peeled open a bread roll.
Then he plunged the card deep into cheese sauce—dripping, messy—and raised it high with both hands.
“Look! I did it!!! Succeeded!!! Yay!!!”
No one saw Chris’s face then. But two things vanished after that:
First, that Glyphsmith was never seen again.
Second, research on the card stopped—permanently.
That noon, Chris confronted the Stellar Rank Glyphsmith once more.
“Why?! Why can’t it be deciphered?! Rumor says Favna Trading House will auction *two more* like it next time! Do you grasp the implication? Either they cracked it—or they have the maker’s backing! You’re a Stellar Rank Glyphsmith—how can a beginner card stump you?!”
The Glyphsmith lifted a sheet scrawled in chaotic black ink. “Know what’s hidden beneath this? That Spirit Card is exactly like it.”
“Don’t think I’m blind! Slapping random layers like that would ruin any card—how could it work?!”
“I don’t know. Maybe the maker learned some secret technique.” He snapped his fan shut. “I’m angry too. I could’ve replicated it, then you’d tell me where Old Xu is… and I’d leave this guild.”
Chris bristled—but knew: if *he* said this, the secret was truly unreachable.
Then Chris’s eyes narrowed. “Could… the maker be Old Xu himself?”
“Impossible! This card’s brand new. Crafting something this extreme demands years of trials. For me? Hundreds of attempts. Success rate? Less than one in a thousand.”
“Hmph. So we’re doomed to lose?” Chris sneered.
“No! His focus on beginner cards proves he *can’t* make higher tiers. This… will be a fair match between us.”
A stubborn flame ignited in the Glyphsmith’s eyes.
After a long silence, Chris turned toward the door. “Keep working. My butler and I will attend Favna’s afternoon auction. I’ll buy another card—and give you one more chance.”
He left. But suspicion clung tight.
*Azara Town holds no hidden masters. That card? Almost certainly Old Xu’s work—Su Hong’s hand.*
*Confirm it. If it’s Su Hong… eliminate him. Fair matches? Nonsense. Only gold and fists speak truth.*
