Simon had an idea, but with no materials on hand, Sallya—the Cardmaker Guild member—was his first thought.
In the end, though, Liszt stepped forward.
“Since I raised the question, I’ll go. You two wait here a moment.”
He snatched the paper, lifted his cane, and left the room.
“How interesting… these ingredients, of all things…”
Hearing Liszt’s murmured words, Sallya could no longer hold back.
“What’s your solution? And let’s be clear—anything over 10 mana doesn’t count.”
Simon let out a light chuckle.
*Before the answer’s even out, this young lady’s already patching the rules.*
Not that he ever planned to be some “unlimited mana god.”
“No rush. Why don’t you two share your thoughts first?”
Simon leaned back into the recliner, hands behind his head, utterly relaxed.
“Hmm…”
Tidris lowered her head, deep in thought.
Sallya stroked the card back with her finger, then spoke up.
“…What if we use a magic card to reduce the Envoy of Morowen’s health to zero?”
Seeing Tidris’s confused look, Sallya explained:
“Per the rules, if a minion’s max HP drops to zero, it vanishes straight to the graveyard—no destruction effect triggered.”
Simon shot her a slightly surprised glance.
“Not bad. I’m impressed you know that rule.”
Sallya crossed her arms, a trace of frustration in her voice.
“It wasn’t my idea. The Guild came up with it. I… only joined the discussion.”
She wanted to beat Simon—but never by stealing others’ answers.
“Contributing to the discussion is already enough.”
Simon spoke gently, like a teacher.
“I don’t need your comfort! And you know this isn’t a real solution!” Sallya snapped.
“A card that zeros the Envoy of Morowen’s HP? Impossible for us to craft!”
The Envoy of Morowen boasted staggering 15/15 stats. Reducing its HP to zero was far beyond a Grade D Cardmaker’s reach.
Yet Simon claimed he’d craft a counter on the spot.
His method had to be better than the Guild’s!
*Why is the gap between us so huge?*
Sallya bit her thumb lightly, frustration simmering.
“And your answer?”
“You’ll see when Old Liszt returns. Secret for now.”
Simon’s calm tone made Sallya grind her teeth.
Truth was, for Simon, countering the minion wasn’t hard.
His all-powerful online friends breezed through “full resistance” scenarios—what was “immune to destruction and damage” to them?
The real hurdle: making it work here.
Dueling rules here were crude, values conservative.
Replicating cards from his past life felt like dancing in shackles.
“Grandpa’s taking a while,” Sallya murmured, frowning.
“No worries. I’ll prep first.”
Simon stood—then noticed Tidris still staring at the floor.
*Still thinking?*
Remembering her silence, he walked over and ruffled her hair.
“If it’s too hard, don’t force it. You’ve barely seen high-tier cards yet. It’s normal.”
“This isn’t me making excuses for you.”
After a pause, Tidris lifted her head.
Her eyes were slightly red, but she smiled.
“Eep! Shopkeeper, don’t treat me like a kid!”
Veteran Grade B Cardmaker. Genius prodigy. Legendary Grade A cards.
People and things utterly foreign to Tidris suddenly swirled around Simon.
Realizing she couldn’t follow the conversation—or even understand it—a flicker of fear crossed her mind.
*Am I… falling behind Shopkeeper?*
Her exam scores had pulled her from the expulsion line, yes—but she’d grown complacent.
Her wins relied on Simon. Like a child swinging a giant wooden club.
*No. There are things only I can do!*
She silently vowed, watching Simon’s back.
She wouldn’t revert the moment she left him.
She didn’t want to leave Simon.
…
“Sorry for the delay.”
Liszt pushed the shop door open.
“Here you go, Simon.”
He set bottles and jars on the table. Sallya’s eyes widened.
“Essence of Air, Universal Solvent… and this last one?”
“Rubber.”
Simon gathered them.
Sallya’s brow furrowed. “What on earth are you printing?”
“Patience. Won’t take long.”
Simon headed upstairs. Barely a moment passed before he returned.
“Phew. Done.”
Like a curious cat, Sallya leaned in, eyes locked on the card between his fingers.
“Let us see!”
Simon shook his head. “Better yet—let’s demonstrate.”
Liszt’s eyes gleamed. “You mean…?”
With a flick, Simon revealed two card backs.
“Duel me, Old Liszt.”
Sallya yelped as if stepped on. “Idiot! A Grade D Cardmaker challenging a Grade B… Duelist?!”
“Just a demo. No formal rules.”
“You summon the Envoy of Morowen. I’ll play my card. Fair?”
A faintly wild smile touched Simon’s lips.
*First the granddaughter, now the grandfather—he’d take them both down today. Villain role? He’d own it.*
“Hah! Never thought I’d duel you,” Liszt boomed, laughing freely.
“Your rules. Let’s go.”
Having dueled here before, they entered the arena with practiced ease.
“Come forth, Envoy of Morowen.”
Simon furrowed his brow.
*No presence. Reset!*
Ah—no.
*Here it comes!*
BOOM! A violent gust erupted in the windless arena, surging toward Liszt.
Airborne moisture condensed into white mist, swirling into vortex-like ribbons of cloud.
“What a show…” Simon squinted, arm raised as his coat flapped loudly.
When he opened his eyes—a five-meter-tall humanoid stood before Liszt, lower body swirling with air.
“Come, Simon Drait. Let this duel witness the growth since we parted.”
