The roar of the Crystal-Gorge Tyrant didn't just echo; it colonized the silence.
The Whispering Canyons were defined by their acoustics—a million tiny drafts creating a low, mournful thrum. But when the Tyrant opened its maw, that delicate equilibrium shattered. The roar was a harmonic frequency of such purity and violence that Silas felt it in his teeth before he heard it. The "whispers" of the canyon were silenced instantly, replaced by a ringing, crystalline shriek that caused hairline fractures in the alcove walls.
Dust rained down on Silas's shoulders.
"It's louder than I remember," Elara shouted over the din, her hands pressed over her ears.
Silas ignored the noise, focusing entirely on the beast. He activated the [Identify] gaze, pushing past the pain in his skull to analyze the creature's armor.
The geometric helm encasing the Wyvern's head wasn't bone. It was translucent, facetted, and glowing with a pale, prismatic light. It shimmered like a heat mirage.
Diamonds, Silas realized, his stomach dropping. It didn't just eat a random magical artifact. It gorged itself on a fragment of the Suit of Avarice.
"It has Diamond-Attribute defense," Silas yelled, pulling Elara back into the shadows. "That helm is hard light solidified. It will reflect projectiles. Spades won't pierce it. Clubs might crack it, but only if I hit it with the force of a train."
He instinctively reached for his belt, his fingers brushing against empty leather loops.
A spike of cold regret pierced his chest.
Empty.
He had 100 Mana. No potions. No backups.
If he had kept his 300 Gold, he could have bought three High-Quality Mana Vials. He could have afforded a protracted siege. Instead, he had gambled it all on a passive skill book.
Dead Man's Grip, Silas thought bitterly, clenching his fist. A lot of good a strong grip does if I run dry in thirty seconds.
He was walking into a boss fight with a half-deck and an empty wallet. This was the poverty of the "Redo" life. In his past life, he would have simply dropped a King of Clubs and flattened the mountain. Now, he had to count pennies.
"Elara," Silas said, his voice tight. "I can't trade blows with it. If I shield against that roar, I'll burn 15 mana a second. I'll be dry before I get close."
"So don't shield," Elara said, her eyes locked on the beast. She drew her stiletto. "I'll act as the lure. It has Diamond eyes—facet vision. It tracks movement."
"It's Level 22. One hit will paste you."
"Then don't let it hit me." She flashed him a grin that was all teeth and adrenaline. "You wanted 'obedient,' Silas. Point me at the monster."
Silas hesitated, then nodded. "Get its head up. Expose the throat beneath the helm. I need to get on top of it."
"On top?" Elara raised an eyebrow. "Ambitious."
She didn't wait for him to change his mind. Elara vaulted over the edge of the alcove, dropping ten feet to the canyon floor. She landed in a roll, coming up in a sprint.
"Hey! Ugly!" Elara screamed, her voice amplified by a minor cantrip. "You look like a chandelier fucked a lizard!"
The Tyrant snapped its head toward the sound. Its faceted, gem-like eyes flared. It let out a hiss of steam and charged.
For a creature of that size, it was terrifyingly fast. Its claws tore gouges in the red stone, kicking up clouds of dust.
Silas moved.
He didn't run at the beast; he ran up the canyon wall.
[THE HOUSE IS OPEN] [DRAW: 5 OF CLUBS (HAMMER DOWN)] [ANTE COST: 20 MANA]
Eighty left.
Silas held the card, waiting.
Below, Elara was dancing on the edge of death. The Tyrant snapped, its jaws closing inches from her coat tails. She slid under a swipe of its tail, using the momentum to slash at its ankle. The knife sparked against the scales—useless—but it annoyed the beast.
It reared up, preparing to unleash another sonic roar.
"Now!" Silas screamed.
He jumped from the rock shelf, plummeting toward the beast's exposed back.
Mid-air, he slapped the 5 of Clubs onto the creature's geometric helm.
"GRAVITY!"
VOOOOM.
The purple sphere expanded. The Tyrant's head was slammed downward by 10x gravity. Its chin smashed into the canyon floor, cracking the stone. The roar was cut off, choked in its throat.
Silas landed on the creature's neck, just behind the Diamond helm.
The beast thrashed. It was like riding an earthquake. The gravity field pinned its head, but its body bucked violently, trying to throw the flea off its back.
Silas slipped. The scales were slick with corruption oil.
I'm falling.
If he fell, he would be crushed.
[PASSIVE ACTIVATED: DEAD MAN'S GRIP]
Silas jammed his fingers into the gap between the creature's armor plates. His grip strength surged, unnatural and locking. His fingers became iron clamps. He didn't just hold on; he anchored himself into the creature's flesh.
The Tyrant bucked, whipping its neck, but Silas hung on, his body rag-dolling but his grip unbreakable.
The passive, Silas realized through the vertigo. It wasn't a waste.
"Elara! The throat!" Silas yelled, trying to stabilize.
The Tyrant, realizing it couldn't shake him, rolled. It slammed its side into the canyon wall, trying to crush Silas against the stone.
Silas groaned as the impact rattled his teeth, but he managed to pull himself up to the crown of the helm.
He placed his palm flat against the glowing, diamond-hard surface.
"Diamond reflects," Silas muttered, blood dripping from his nose. "So let's give you a mirror."
[DRAW: 4 OF DIAMONDS (THE PRISM)] [ANTE COST: 15 MANA]
Sixty-five left.
He didn't create a wall. He created a lid.
He summoned the Prism directly over the Tyrant's eyes and mouth, sealing the geometric helm.
"Scream," Silas commanded.
The Tyrant, panicked by the sudden blindness, opened its maw and unleashed its sonic breath weapon.
SCREEE—
The sound didn't exit. It hit Silas's Prism, reflected off the hard-light barrier, and bounced back into the creature's own skull.
The physics of the Diamond Suit were absolute. Reflection.
The sound wave amplified within the enclosed space of the helm. The Tyrant's head became an echo chamber of destructive resonance.
CRACK.
The "invulnerable" geometric helm fractured. The vibrations shattered the crystal from the inside out.
The beast shrieked—a gargled, wet sound—as its own armor exploded into shrapnel.
Silas shielded his face as razor-sharp shards of hard light flew past him.
The Tyrant slumped, stunned, its brain rattled to mush by its own roar. The protective shell was gone. The soft, fleshy neck was exposed.
Silas stood on the heaving back of the monster. He drew one final card.
[DRAW: 3 OF SPADES (THE SEVERED NERVE)] [ANTE COST: 5 MANA]
Sixty.
He formed the obsidian blade in his hand.
"The House wins," Silas whispered.
He drove the Spade straight down into the spinal column.
The blade phased through scale and flesh. Snip.
The Tyrant went rigid. Then, it collapsed, a mountain of meat sliding to the canyon floor.
Silas rode it down, stepping off gracefully as the dust settled.
[COMBAT RESOLVED] [BOSS DEFEATED: CRYSTAL-GORGE TYRANT] [LEVEL UP! (LEVEL 5 -> LEVEL 7)] [MANA RESTORED (LEVEL UP BONUS)]
Silas exhaled, his knees shaking. The gamble had paid off.
Elara walked out of the dust cloud. She was covered in dirt, her coat torn at the shoulder, but she was grinning. She walked up to the carcass and kicked it.
"Nice ride, cowboy," she drawled.
Silas ignored her. He was looking at the loot.
Hovering over the corpse was not a gold coin, nor a simple material.
It was a glowing, translucent card shard. It pulsed with a greedy, golden light.
[SYSTEM DROP: DIAMOND FRAGMENT (ACE)] [ITEM TYPE: CONSUMABLE / UPGRADE] [DESCRIPTION: A shattered piece of the "Ace of Diamonds." Can be absorbed to unlock a Diamond Suit Ability or sold for massive wealth.]
Silas stared at it.
Wealth, the System whispered. You could sell this for 5,000 Gold. You could buy all the potions you want. You could buy safety.
Or...
You could eat it.
Elara leaned over his shoulder, her voice a sultry whisper in his ear.
"Greed is good, Silas. But power is better. What will you do?"
A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.