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In a dark, unfamiliar room, Brother Tiger stirred on the cold floor, a dull ache pulsing through his skull.
"Why... why did I pass out?" he mumbled, pushing himself upright. His gaze fell on Skinny's motionless body. "Oh, right," he muttered, the fabricated memories clicking into place like puzzle pieces. "After I finished off Skinny, I felt tired and decided to rest." He completely ignored the glaring holes in his own reasoning.
Suddenly, he froze as confusion washed over him. "Wait, why is my Vampire card on cooldown?"
The moment the thought surfaced, another sharp pain lanced through his head. "Ah, that's right. Skinny fought back before he died and destroyed it." The explanation satisfied him, his mind refusing to question how an ordinary human could defeat a bronze-level demon.
"Time to head to the rendezvous point the Spirit Begging Society gave me," he grunted, pushing the thoughts aside as he prepared to leave.
What he didn't know—what he could never know—was that deep within his mind, the ethereal shadow of a white six-tailed fox watched everything through his eyes.
Russell sat in the passenger seat of Jonathan Whitemore's car, the cool night breeze rushing past him. He was surprised to discover that despite its sleek, aggressive sports car appearance, the vehicle was incredibly comfortable. He'd always heard that sports cars sacrificed comfort for speed.
Soon, they arrived at the New Metro Cardmakers Association headquarters. Russell followed Jonathan to the top floor, entering the same office filled with the same powerful figures.
When Director Blake Whitmore spotted Russell, a warm smile creased his weathered features. "Student Russell. We meet again."
"Hello, Director Blake," Russell replied politely.
But there was no time for small talk. President Lance Jennings cut straight to business. "Student Russell, Director Whitemore has briefed us on the situation," he said, his tone grave. "You handled the Spirit Begging Society operative exceptionally well."
Russell knew the truth—if he hadn't created Luffy just hours earlier, he would have been in mortal danger with all his other cards on cooldown.
Unaware of Russell's thoughts, President Jennings continued, "For your role in exposing this plot, the Association has decided to award you two million Federation Credits."
Two million. The sum was staggering. A gold-quality bronze-level material on the open market cost around 1.5 million. Still, they wouldn't have summoned him here in the dead of night just for a cash reward.
"Thank you for the Association's generosity," Russell said carefully. "I'll certainly work harder to serve the Association in the future."
Jennings and Whitmore exchanged a brief, knowing glance. The boy was young, but he already understood the language of politics. It didn't matter—his intelligence meant they could trust him with what came next.
Just as Russell's mind began racing with questions, President Jennings's expression turned serious. "Russell, the Association has a mission for you. We need you to participate in the upcoming 'Prodigy Cup'... and we need you to win."
Russell was stunned. "If the Association needs me, I'll certainly accept the responsibility," he said hesitantly, "but I'm just a student." They wouldn't send a high school kid on such a dangerous mission, would they? he thought. The Association has thousands of cardmakers. They wouldn't need me, unless...
As if reading his mind, President Jennings smiled. "You may not realize this, Russell, but the Prodigy Cup is exclusively for high school students. Rather than finding another student unfamiliar with the situation, it makes more sense to assign the task directly to you."
He left one crucial detail unspoken: as far as he knew, Russell was the only high school student in all of New Metro to have reached the bronze level. His victory was practically guaranteed.
"And the Association won't let you go unrewarded," Jennings added quickly, as if afraid Russell might refuse. "As long as you take first place, regardless of your results in the provincial unified exams in two months, I can personally guarantee your admission into the cardmaking department of New Metro University."
Russell drew a sharp breath. The reward was enormous. The cardmaking departments of major universities were the modern equivalent of elite military academies, established specifically to train future mid-to-high-ranking Association personnel. Graduating from there meant a guaranteed path to power. He would become Director Russell someday.
He immediately straightened. "President Jennings, you're too kind. Regardless of any rewards, I simply want to do my best for the Association."
Jennings beamed, choosing to ignore the boy's textbook political response.
"By the way, Russell," Director Blake said, speaking up for the first time in a while. "Would you mind showing us your new bronze-level card?" He was intensely curious. Jonathan had only mentioned that Russell had created a bronze card, not its quality.
Russell didn't hesitate, summoning Luffy into the room.
Seeing the boy with his silly, infectious grin, Blake Whitmore was momentarily stunned. "This is... truly incredible!" As a Master-level cardmaker, he could instantly sense the overwhelming power contained within the card—it was unmistakably red-quality.
President Jennings stood beside him, speechless with shock. They had reviewed Russell's file. They knew he had only acquired the materials today. They had assumed, at best, he might have produced a purple card by leveraging high-quality materials. But a red card, on his very first day as a bronze-level cardmaker... it was unprecedented.
After a long moment of silence, Director Blake looked at Russell, his expression solemn. "Student Russell, I want to make you a promise. If you take first place in this Prodigy Cup, and then place in the top three of the subsequent provincial unified examination and choose to attend Northgate University, I will accept you as my personal disciple."
Blake Whitmore was a renowned scholar at Northgate, and he hadn't taken on a disciple in many years. President Jennings turned sharply to look at him. He knew that every single one of Blake's previous disciples had reached, at minimum, the emerald level. With Russell's talent and Blake's personal guidance, the diamond level was a certainty. Even... Master level wasn't impossible.
Seeing that Blake was completely serious, Jennings began winking frantically at Russell. Jonathan, standing beside him, secretly tugged the corner of Russell's shirt, urging him to agree.
Russell himself felt dizzy, as if a whole bakery's worth of opportunities had just fallen into his lap. This man was one of the three Master Cardmakers of the Federation, the Duke of the Sea Marches, the legendary Blake Whitmore. To be his disciple was an honor beyond imagination.
He reined in his excitement, his voice coming out deep and steady. "Thank you, Director Blake, for your immense kindness. I will certainly work my hardest."
Both Jennings and Whitemore breathed silent sighs of relief. They had been terrified the boy's pride might cause him to refuse.
But at that moment, Russell continued speaking, his voice clear and firm.
"President Jennings, I have one condition. If I take first place, I ask that the Association grant me permission to enter the [Black Flag] secret realm again."
"Even if it means forfeiting all other rewards."
(End of Chapter)
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