The Legendary Fool

A bleary-eyed Tom was wrapping up his blanket into a neat roll as the first rays of sunlight cascaded through the cavernous openings. The jagged edges forming the cave’s interior cast long, pointed shadows, making Tom feel as if he were in the maw of a giant beast. He, however, had confronted too many actual beasts to be fazed by something that barely qualified as an optical illusion.

The night had been a long one, significantly longer than Earth’s lunar cycles. If he had to take a guess, he’d put it at eighteen or perhaps, nineteen long hours. Hours that he’d spent alone, isolated and somewhat uncomfortable— despite his fur bedding, sleeping on hard rock was still something he’d need to get used to.

It was ironic, really— Tom had spent all those years wanting to stay away from people, to avoid them as much as possible, only to be confronted by the realization that humans were inherently social creatures that required social interaction as much as they did food or water. Tom could claim that he’d mostly spent his time alone in the previous world, but he was still part of a society— his job required him to interact with other people, answer their questions and manage returns… plus he did have a few acquaintances that he hung out with, albeit rarely.

Now though, there was nothing but the wilderness. While it was only his second day on Artezia, Tom was confronted with the realization that reaching civilization wasn’t an option— magical cards or not, there was only so much isolation his mind could take before he began to lose it.

Grabbing a dagger from his weapon’s rack, Tom used the side of the blade to etch a solitary, lone line on the cavern wall, marking his own accomplishment of surviving day one.

He really hoped that he didn’t have to etch too many of those markings.

“Well, it’s time to get some work done,” Tom grumbled to himself, placing the dagger back on the rack and plucking out his sword instead. He took the next ten minutes to make preparations, double-checking that he had all the right [Deck Cards] on him before stepping outside of the safety of the cavern.

Part of him wanted to get back to the hunt, to once again feel the thrill, the fear and more importantly, the exultation brought by meeting a beast in combat and actually winning— an emotion, a sensation that was far more powerful than the greatest of highs. However, though it took some… wrestling with his own thoughts, ultimately reason prevailed and Tom successfully managed to smother that desire.

That… bloodlust he felt, wasn’t natural. It didn’t belong to him.

That made the next few hours boring, but also safe— Tom chopped down thick branches, often even requiring him to climb the wide trees a little, a muffled thump ringing out as they hit the ground. He had spotted no beast in this region so far and whilst that didn’t mean that he would lower his guard, it did mean that he could be a little more liberal with his desires.

The branches were large and thick enough that Tom could only drag one back at a time, keeping his other hand free and equipped with his [Deck Cards] in case things went awry. The entire process wasn’t very time-consuming, considering Tom didn’t need to venture out more than two-three dozen meters for suitable lumber, but his muscles had started to ache by the end of it.

His evening, or well, most of it was consumed by processing the lumber. First, he processed the thick branches into long, cylindrical shafts. Then, he began sharpening one end, carving away wooden shavings until he had a somewhat crude, but lethal enough, spear tip.

Repeating that process dozens of times, Tom had an entire pile of wooden spears, but only kind of. If he tried to use them for extended periods of time, his hands would probably be filled with wooden splinters and cuts unless he spent more time refining them further. Which, to be frank, he had no interest in.

Grabbing one spear, Tom stepped outside again, scanning the perimeter of the clearing for threats. When he found none, he began to dig a hole into the ground a meter or so away from the small mountain-like structure with his dagger. Ten minutes later he had managed a small, but rather deep incision that he dug the spear’s cylindrical end into until it had almost halved in size.

Repeating the same process again and again, Tom had managed to erect a rather pointed perimeter. He had calculated the distance between each wooden spear by estimating the width of the smallest creature he’d encountered so far, namely the [Ankra Beast] and divided by half. The result was… that even he would have to squeeze through if he wanted to get past the perimeter, which was…. less than ideal, but atleast it would serve his purpose.

The hope was that even if the beast could get through the perimeter, it would make enough noise in the process to alert him. Plus, his perimeter was a lot less lethal from the inside— A few blows from water propulsion would knock away the spears, long enough for him to escape.

It was night by the time hammered the last spear in with a particularly heavy rock he’d procured from the vicinity. He’d cut himself a few times in the process, but thankfully he had no reason to fear as long as he had [Earth’s Vitality] on hand.

Tom’s SP had recovered to full strength by this point and the final task he had on his checklist had been achieved.

That only meant one thing….

It was time to hunt.

The Auspicious Moon, Alelai, still hung in the sky, it’s characteristic silver glow a little brighter today.

In the darkness of the forest, a shadowy figure flitted from cover to cover, his originally inept movements gaining some manner of sophistication and grace. The cry of a beast rang out in the next instant, a mournful, wailing cry that was abruptly cut off, only to once again be replaced by the deathly stillness of the night, of the forest and of the ghost that lurked within.

Tom swished his bloodied blade at the air, causing droplets of blood to land upon nearby shrubbery. He was rather disappointed in his performance— Tom had thrust his blade aiming for the [Ankra Beast’s] head, but it had jerked away at the last second causing him to strike at its abdomen instead.

He’d stopped using SP to kill Level 1 [Ankra Beast’s] by as much as he could, aiming to build up his own swordsmanship and more importantly, iron out any hesitancy from his fighting style.

Tom had finally, decided to split experience between [The Lunar] and his Soul Card, [The Fool], having hit the point where further levelling any of his existing cards would only give him diminishing returns for the amount of soul experience they demanded.

Over the next week, Tom fell into a cycle of sleeping and experimenting during the day and hunting during the night. On the third day, an idea struck him, so he went ahead and cooked a piece of meat from one of his hunts, and then deposited it in his inventory.

Six hours later the meat was as good and as hot as when it was originally cooked, and it still retained its ability to waive off his sleep requirements. Though Tom had begun to take naps during the day, it still felt wrong to completely switch off his consciousness as he drifted away into sleep—leaving him susceptible to anyone or anything that could breach his defenses.

He’d shifted his short term goal to stockpile enough meat and marrow for a month’s journey, but his efforts yielded less efforts that he hoped. He kept encountering Level 1 Symiril Tuskers and Ankra Beasts, but besides that there didn’t seem to be any other species in the forest.

That gave him duplicate cards, which he [fed] to his [Soul Card], evermore inching closer to finally levelling it.

On day four, Tom finally went out and hacked out a rectangular chunk of wood from one of the wide trees, with the first [Symiril Tusker Bone Sword] he’d received. The weapon was clearly inferior to his [Elfinclaw Bone Sword], which he tended to treat with great care.

It only took an hour of woodcrafting to hollow it out enough to the point where it resembled a rather misshappen bucket. He used [Water Propulsion] to fill it up to the brim, and as Tom drank directly from the bucket, albeit in small sips, he realized how much he’d missed normal tasting water, even when the bone marrow fluid seemed to be a far superior drink.

It just hit different, somehow.

The bucket would also come in handy if Tom was low on meat and wanted to make a stew instead and it also let him take his first bath in days. It was safely deposited in his [Inventory] for latter use.

By day six, Tom had fallen into a routine, almost— his efficiency at killing level 1 beasts almost mechanical at this point. After all, he knew their weak points, their cards, their intelligence level— Tom would have to be either incompetent or negligent if he still, somehow, managed to get himself killed.

The breakthrough came on day seven, as Tom stood above a [Symiril Tusker’s] carcass, panting.

[Congratulations, your Soul Card [The Fool] has successfully reached level 2. You have received [10] attribute points! You have unlocked a new skill!]

Tom grinned at the flood of notifications, finding them a welcome sight. In that moment, he knew that this forest could not hold him back much longer.