Scorching breath slammed into the ground, sending rippling waves of heat outward.

Kraze watched the Six-Armed Serpent Demon writhe and wail in agony within the flames, its life barrier melting rapidly away.

His pupils trembled violently. “How… is this… possible…”

The outcome was sealed.

“Ooooh! Big brother’s amazing!”

“Haven’t seen a duel this thrilling in ages!”

When Simon finally turned his attention outward, residents of the Royal Capital already surrounded him.

After all, the duel happened right on the street—any minor commotion would draw eyes, let alone a dragon appearing mid-duel.

Though the red dragon was merely Grade C, that was only because the Dragon Ritual card used to summon it was Grade C.

In raw power, it easily matched an eight-star Grade B follower.

Thus, Duelists capable of summoning dragons remained exceedingly rare—even in the Royal Capital.

Simon ignored the crowd’s cheers. He first lifted Kraze’s case, then stepped forward and looked down at him.

“I’m taking the materials. Leaving the Royal Capital? You handle that yourself.”

Without a backward glance, he walked away.

Simon wasn’t worried Kraze would break the wager.

To the people of this world, duels were sacred—and so were the vows born from them.

Exile meant a fresh start; breaking the oath meant utter disgrace, even forced retirement from dueling. Kraze wouldn’t choose foolishly.

After his final words to Kraze, Simon approached Tidris and Viana.

“Mission accomplished. That young master won’t trouble us again.”

“Shopkeeper! That was so cool!” Tidris cheered, raising a tiny fist.

Viana no longer dwelled on that insignificant clown. She fixed Simon with a fiery gaze. “I never imagined you could summon a red dragon.”

This was her first time seeing Simon duel—and his skill stunned her.

A fierce urge to challenge him flared within her.

Noting both girls watching him, Simon bent slightly and offered his hand. “Shall we go, ladies? Back to the mansion—we’ll talk more there.”

“Oh! Shopkeeper—one more question! Was that final move really called ‘Divine Wrath Flame Cannon’?”

“Ah… no. I just improvised a flashy name on the spot…”

…

“Now both materials rest in one person’s hands.”

Xivier, hidden among the crowd, watched the three figures depart.

The woman in black robes turned. “But Simon’s no pushover. That strength doesn’t belong to a Grade D Cardmaker.”

Xivier shook his head with a sigh. “True. They say Cardmakers fight half a grade below Duelists—but he’s practically pinning a same-grade Duelist to the ground. Remarkable.”

Yet a faint smile lingered on his lips despite his cautious words.

Cupping her chin, the woman murmured, “Hatching another scheme?”

“If we fear losing one-on-one… why not challenge him two-on-one?” Xivier patted Lei’s shoulder. “Time to settle your score.”

Lei, silent until now, clenched his fists tightly.

“But first,” Xivier’s tone shifted as he shot a wary glance toward the Jujin Merchant Guild, “we shake off those pesky flies.”

“Let’s return to the Academy. We’ll plan how to meet Shopkeeper Simon there.”

Behind a floor-to-ceiling window on the third floor of the Jujin Merchant Guild…

Watching the robed figures slip away against the crowd, a staff member turned. “Your Grace—we’ve ID’d the Demonology Sect members. Why not apprehend them now?”

“If this were a solo operation, calling it quits would be wise,” the young bishop replied lazily, slouched in his chair. “But we spent resources setting this trap. Catching three small fry? Overkill.”

“Three Grade C Duelists at most. The Demonology Sect breeds batches like this every few years. Apprehending them changes nothing.”

Having shared his fishing philosophy, he waved over the priest who’d consoled him earlier.

“Come. I entrust you with an important mission.”

A chill of foreboding struck the priest, but he stepped forward. “Your orders, Bishop?”

“You will monitor the boy who took the materials—at the Academy.”

Suspicious, the priest asked, “May I ask… why me?”

*(Surely he isn’t holding a grudge over me saying he came back empty-handed?)*

The Bishop clasped his hands, eyes drifting upward. “Er… You’re adaptable. Balanced. One of few in the Order who gets along with all kinds of people.”

“Thus, you’re the ideal candidate.”

“Bishop… that sounds like you’re mocking my lack of principles.”

“I assure you, no such intent.”

“Don’t worry—I arranged groundwork yesterday. You simply take over.”

The priest froze.

*(You arranged help… and I, your companion, am last to know? This is spite!)*

“Bishop… perhaps reconsider?” He declared earnestly, “Many capable priests in the Order aren’t… *ahem*… ‘balanced’ like me!”

“You’ve been too kind. Please give this ‘honor’ to another!”

The Bishop shook his head. “My decision is final. This coveted assignment belongs to you.”

*“Coveted”?*

Being exiled from the power center to watch some nobody near the Royal Capital’s outskirts—*coveted*?!

As the saying goes:

*Absent your seat today, gone tomorrow.*

But inward complaints stayed silent. “Understood, Bishop,” he murmured.

He stormed out of the room.

*Just wait.*

*See who dives to the riverbed to hang fish on your hook after I’m gone.*

…

That night, Simon returned to his guest room.

Good. No sugar mama had sprouted in his bed today.

Satisfied, he lowered the hand that had lifted the quilt.

He didn’t climb in. Instead, he sat at the desk, lit the lamp, and began sketching on paper.

The carriage back to the Academy was booked for dawn.

To start crafting the Grade B card immediately upon return, he needed the formula ready tonight.

Past cards—even the Counter Spell—had references. Simon created them effortlessly.

This time? Pure creation from nothing.

Late night. Mansion corridor.

Viana, clad in a silken nightgown, quietly pushed open the bedroom door.

Just as she prepared to ambush Simon under cover of darkness—a voice from behind sent ice down her spine.

“Nana… where do you think you’re going?”