Source & Soul: A Deckbuilding LitRPG

As it often did, having my Condor in play let me breathe a touch easier. Not just because my Assassin dying would now serve a larger purpose but because the Condor had a wonderful healthpool for defense. I cared about that fact deeply at the moment, because I still couldn’t attack the filthy duelist I faced – not while his skin remained coated in starlight. I was quite fortunate that his ante card had been the Epic, so I’d had adequate time to read through its rather long effect instead of needing to do so when he cast it. With my soul card’s ability, I could see the spell perfectly in my mind’s eye. Amazingly, it gave him three full rounds of complete immunity.

It still had one round’s worth left, and sure enough, the urchin was going all-out. He charged at me again, hammer raised. Unlike his first attacks, I now knew how much damage he could do: 1 from his hammer and 1 more for every two Nether source used. As he ran at me, the same number of spiky balls dimmed as last time, making this another 3 point attack. I had three cards in hand.

Both my Execution and Master Assassin were capable of absorbing the strike, but I didn’t want to lose any more cards if I didn’t have to.

I whispered a command into the air and my huge Carrion Condor whipped down from where it had been circling beneath the roof of the Dueling Dome. My opponent roared as he swung the hammer straight at my side, purple Nether energy warping around the weapon, making it a fearsome thing to behold. But then my Condor was there, its blue-gray feathers taking the blow full-on.

The Condor squawked in fury, pecking back, but its jagged beak slid off the starlight skin just as that damnable spell said it would. Still, my card had stopped my opponent in his tracks. The urchin looked shocked that a bird – even one as big as he was – had managed to halt his attack.

He seemed even more surprised when the sparkling darkness flaked off of his flesh, revealing the same dirt and grime that soiled his clothes. Without its protection, he backed away uncertainly, and my Condor let out another squawk, shuffling its wounded body after.

I could have used my refreshed source to summon another Soul to the field, but I wanted to see what an attack against him would net me. His Sucking Void spell had said that it forfeited the remaining cards in one’s deck, and using the extra senses the dome provided, I didn’t see any more cards circling him. He still held a card in hand though, and him playing that spell so early in our duel made me think he had a way to mitigate its steep cost, perhaps with a personal soul ability. He didn’t seem the sort to have upgraded his soul, but neither did he look like someone who would own an Epic card or cultivate Nether, so he might have a third surprise up his frayed sleeve. In fact, he was probably baiting me into a trap by assuming he was vulnerable. Better to poke at him and gather information while I still had the source to cast something after.

With another command my Condor rushed forward, and my Assassin slipped from the shadows behind the boy, stabbing him with a long knife. Together they hit for 3 damage, the same amount he’d just tried to do to me.

I tensed as they struck, ready to react to whatever return strike he had planned. Instead, the lone card he was holding in his hand shattered, revealing itself to be nothing more than another Nether Source, and with a gasp, he collapsed onto the wooden stage.

“And that’s the match, ladies and gentleman!” the announcer boomed, and I could hardly believe it. My opponent possessed an Epic and yet had so few other summon cards? Just a neutral relic and some source?! “Victor – as if there was ever any doubt – Basil of Hintal!” My heart was pounding in my chest, the fear that had snuck around the edges of my mind the entire duel blasted away by the announcer’s words. I had done it. I had won my first match in the Rising Stars Tournament!

“No!” I heard my opponent cry, and I looked back to him, suddenly worried, remembering that he’d threatened to hurt me after the match. His hand was outstretched, reaching after something that was arcing through the air toward me. It was the ruby-rimmed ante card I had just won, and it came to a sudden stop a foot or so above my head, hanging there tantalizingly.

“Let’s not forget about the Lord of Lice, everyone,” the announcer commented. “He gave us a much better show than any of us could have expected, and Nether to boot! Fate couldn’t have made me believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. Surely he deserves some praise for that?” A cheer went up from the audience in agreement, their shouting reverberating the air as the Nether card floated down into my fingers. I had never encountered its like before and doubted I ever would again. I had visited multiple card shops in the Noble District, even one on the edges of the Lows, and never had I seen a single Nether card for sale or on display. Its top and bottom banners were a fluctuating purple, proclaiming its source type boldly, and its border shone like a perfectly faceted gem, yet its value was so much more than that of a mere stone. The card was a match to the Sea Titan – but unlike my mother’s dowry, this one I was free to trade.

Over the top of my new card, I saw the boy across from me standing there like a fountain of rage, his fingers crushed together into shaking fists. He looked crazed, and I tensed, thinking he would charge me, but then that fountain drained. His shoulders slumped, and his chin fell to his chest. The dirty boy turned, lurching off of the platform on legs that barely seemed to be working properly. He only had one other card, that hammer, which meant he couldn’t compete anymore.

My eyes dropped back down to the red-bordered spell I held my fingers. I knew what an Epic meant to me. What must it mean to someone like him, who clearly had so little? He probably looked so disheveled and slovenly because every bit of money that had passed through his fingers had gone to getting this very card. Surely it represented the culmination of his life efforts, the key to whatever dream he was chasing after by participating in the Rising Stars Tournament. Now it was all over for him, just like that, in Round One no less. And if his outburst at the start was to be believed, he hadn’t even known he was risking a card by participating.

I thought of my family then for some reason, sitting around the table, none supporting me. Who had this urchin had in his corner along the way? Probably even less than me. I turned the ante card over, its back the same smoky glass as all summon cards. I didn’t want the achievement of my dream to snuff out others along the way. I knew I had to defeat my opponents – it was a tournament, after all – but I had expected to best other nobles and well-off merchants, people for whom this was just one opportunity among many. I hadn’t thought to ruin someone’s only chance to turn what was obviously a terrible existence into something more.

“You! You, I say!” I called after him. What was that name he had gone by? “Hull!” I shouted as soon as it came to me.

It wasn’t until I used his name a third time and chased him halfway to the next platform that he turned at my voice. Tears were leaking from his eyes, cutting through the dirt on his cheeks. Seeing me, he frowned and then he turned ugly, like he expected me to gloat over my win.

To forestall his worries, I held out the spell to him. “Here.”

His eyes shot to the card, then to me again, the rest of his body frozen and wary.

“Here,” I repeated, though I found the second time harder to say than the first. The amount of money I was holding in my hand was staggering, and I was giving it up? Just this once, I told myself, the urchin’s sallow face strengthening my conviction. It was because of its value I couldn’t keep it; it was just too much to take from someone like him. Every other ante I won on my way to the top of the Rising Stars Tournament would feel right, I was sure – but not this one. “It’s yours.”

His eyes narrowed and then a nasty grin spread on his face, like he thought I was the biggest coward to walk under the sun.

“And not because you threatened to thrash me earlier,” I informed him, wanting to put that unflattering idea straight out of his head. “Because–”

He snatched the card out of my hand, tucking it behind his ear and into his Mind Home as fast as he could. “You think I care why? Rich folk are crazy. I’m getting out of here before you or anyone else gets crazier.”

His reaction was not what I had been expecting, and I found myself rather flummoxed in the face of it. Did he not understand what I had just done for him? And at great personal loss to myself? His retreating back gave me an answer, and it was one I didn’t appreciate.

“The tournament’s not over,” I called after him, not sure why I was bothering.

“It is for me,” he said, squeezing between people on his way to the nearest exit tunnel.

“No it’s not,” I said, catching up to him. “That’s why I gave you your card back. So you can keep competing.” If he wasn’t going to do that, I’d have kept the blasted thing.

He turned around, his face a mask of confusion. “What in the Twins are you talking about? I lost.”

“Just stop for a moment,” I said, refusing to chase after someone like him in such an undignified manner any longer.

Seeing me stationary, he begrudgingly halted as well. He turned toward the tunnel he had been nearing and then back at me, growled a groan, and finally stomped back over, acting like each step taken in my direction pained him.

“What?” he asked, using what little height he had on me to lean aggressively.

“It’s a double-elimination tournament,” I explained as calmly as I could. “You’re not out until you lose twice or get down to just one summon card.” When he didn’t look particularly convinced or grateful, I continued on just to be sure he was understanding. “But you have two cards again, so you can keep competing. You can do what you came here for: win. Increase your card collection.”

He looked at me sideways, like he was trying to figure out my game. “I came for a gold crown. That’s all.”

“A gold?” I said, not understanding where he had gotten that peculiar information from. “The prize pools starting with third place are in the hundreds of crowns, not a single coin.”

He coughed hearing that number, and I angled my head back and to the side, trying to breathe different air.

“You don’t have to get that far,” I said. “If you win just two matches, you’ll double your number of cards.” I felt like I was explaining to a bird why it was already flying.

“Win. Like I did against you?” he asked sarcastically.

I was beginning to find his attitude nearly as unseemly as his appearance. If he didn’t believe in himself, why had he entered in the first place? “The opponents in the loser’s bracket will be easier, especially at first. They all lost, like you.”

He gave me a dangerous look, which only frustrated me further.

“You have a good combination. You could surprise someone with it and win if they don’t have as many cards as I did.” The agitation I was feeling made my movements stiff as I shrugged. “It’s your life. Do what you want. I was merely trying to provide you with an opportunity.”

He leaned in. “I need a rich kid’s opportunity like I need a burning rot on my sack. You got lucky.” He accentuated the point by spitting on the ground; the saliva would have splattered on my shoe if I hadn’t pulled it away fast enough. “I’ll stomp you next time, you hear?”

His threat seemed to imply that he now planned to stay in the tournament long enough to try and duel me again, but then he abruptly turned around and made for the same exit he had been heading toward before I had stopped him.

I flared my nostrils, blowing air. I’d just given up an Epic card on that complete waste of a human being. An Epic. I was an idiot.

“What was all that about?” Warrick asked, coming to stand beside me. I had noticed my friend hovering nearby at the end of my conversation with the urchin, but he had held off on approaching until I was alone. I didn’t blame him.

“Nothing.” There wasn’t time to discuss the monumentally horrible decision I had just made, not when I had other problems to worry about. The first day of a tournament this big would have multiple matches to whittle the competitors down to the top sixteen. That meant I would be dueling again soon, and I knew next to nothing about who I would be facing in the future – besides Losum, assuming we both managed to last long enough on the winner’s side. “Come on.”

“Where to?” Warrick asked, trailing after me as I started checking the other platforms.

“I want to see who I’m fighting.”

“Winner, Throice!”

I turned toward the sound of a different announcer calling out the victor. That was one of the two names I had been searching for, Match 16. Instead of looking at the competitors, my eyes widened, trying and failing to take in the entirety of a massive metal construct that had been summoned on that stage. It was in the form of a person and absolutely enormous, its legs so wide they straddled the thirty foot square platform and so tall its shoulders were actually outside the shimmering curve of the Dueling Dome, putting its head level with the highest of the nosebleed seats of the Coliseum. The only reason I had missed seeing the behemoth previously was because this particular match had been happening directly behind me.

“Twins protect,” Warrick gasped at my side. “What in the Twelve is that?”

What little air I still had in my chest I used to wheeze out an answer. “My next opponent.”