The sky burned crimson.
Ash drifted through the air like snow as fortress walls groaned and collapsed beneath the weight of the horde. Screams echoed across the battlefield, mixing with the roar of flame and the growls of approaching beasts.
A lean figure darted between fallen rubble and bodies — pale skin streaked with ash, black hair matted with sweat and blood. His coat, once part of a uniform, now hung in tattered strips. A thin trail of smoke curled from a cut along his side.
"Luke!"
The shout came from somewhere behind him.
He turned just in time to see a classmate — battered, limping — stumble toward him through the broken line. The boy barely made it halfway before something lunged from the smoke.
It was fast — too fast. A beast, twisted by corrupted mana, with jagged bone limbs and a gaping maw that hissed as it charged.
Luke didn't think. He reached for the card holstered at his belt — fingers trembling as he drew one edged in glowing crimson.
🃏 Molten Fang – B
The blade surged to life in his hand, pulsing with heat. Cracks ran down its surface.
One more use.
Maybe.
He dashed forward.
The molten blade tore through the creature's ribcage, slicing it clean across the chest. A shriek split the air as the monster's body convulsed — then exploded in a burst of flame and blood.
Luke skidded to a halt, dropping to one knee.
The sword had shattered.
Fragments of red-hot steel scattered across the ground. His right glove had burned halfway off. Blood dripped from his palm.
He didn't look at it.
He didn't have time.
The battlefield had gone quiet — not with safety, but with certainty. Everyone else nearby had fallen. The next wave was already approaching, shadows moving just beyond the smoke.
Luke reached into his deck.
Only one card remained.
🃏 Phantom Link – Echo Familiar
Soul Card – Rank: C
Copies the last skill used within five seconds. Power: 50%. Cooldown: 10 seconds.
Cannot be activated if no skill is available to copy.
The card flickered faintly in his hand.
He looked up — toward the far side of the field.
The next wave was already forming. Dozens of beasts, eyes glowing, teeth wet. They were organizing. Preparing.
He turned sharply — scanning the ruins, the burning stone, the corpses.
No allies. No movement. No clash of weapons. No spells.
Nothing to copy.
"…F*ck."
He grit his teeth and sprinted — toward the faint sound of fighting in the distance. Somewhere, beyond the smoke, someone might still be alive.
His boots slammed against the cracked stone as he pushed past broken barricades and crumbling debris. His lungs burned. His side screamed with every step.
The shadows moved faster.
A beast slammed into his side — claws ripping through what little armor remained. He hit the ground hard, rolled, forced himself up.
Keep going. Just a little further.
Another one came from the flank. He dodged too late. Blood sprayed across the dirt.
He fell again.
Hands shaking, he pulled out Phantom Link one more time — a reflex more than hope.
Still empty.
Still useless.
He grit his teeth, eyes blurring with pain and rage.
"Damn it… You were never there when I needed you…"
The ground trembled as the horde descended.
A snarl rose behind him.
He turned, too late.
A beast lunged — eyes burning, maw wide.
Luke didn't hesitate.
With all the strength he had left, he drove the card itself into the creature's eye — paper, mana, and anger tearing into flesh. It hissed and thrashed, more annoyed than wounded.
"You useless—! F**king—!"
He screamed as the claws came down.
There was no final move. No last-minute skill activation. No miracle fusion.
Only the sound of bone breaking.
Only the taste of blood in his mouth.
Only the truth:
He was alone.
And his Soul Card had always been garbage.