Dilemma

Suddenly, Chris had a thought. With nimble fingers, he swiftly inserted the card into the card slot of the degree meter on his wrist.

"Beep." The image projected from the card was still the same as last time.

What exactly had changed with this card? Chris's curiosity suddenly intensified, and he was overwhelmed by the urge to rush out and buy a three-star energy card immediately.

"Impulse is the devil! Impulse is the devil!" Chris muttered to himself, reminding himself that it was no small cost. It took a great deal of effort for him to finally hold back. Most people would have long since given in and bought a three-star energy card, but Chris managed to resist. When it comes to self-control, he has never been lacking.

As he gradually calmed down, he quickly realized what needed to be done. For now, the top priority was to learn how to make illusion cards—a significant leap forward for him. Although this may seem like a simple and modest goal, for Chris Wood, who has been painstakingly figuring things out on his own, this day had been eagerly anticipated for a long, long time.

He had no time to be distracted by other things. The reason he was reluctant to touch his savings was precisely for this wish. He didn't know how long it would take or how many materials he would need to experiment, so he had endured and refrained from buying a three-star energy card. Although the card was mysterious, creating illusion cards had been Chris's dream for years. When he was wandering as a child, the ever-changing light and colors of illusion card advertisements outside shops would mesmerize him, making him forget the cold that his thin clothing could not shield him from.

For Chris, his basic needs were now completely met. If it weren't for this wish, he wouldn't be so devoted to studying card theory. Just making energy cards was enough to sustain his current way of life, and to be honest, he was quite satisfied with it.

He wasn't someone with grand ambitions. Most of his childhood wishes were simple and ordinary—having enough to eat and wear, and a place to live. These had all been achieved. The only unfulfilled dream left was the memory of those colorful illusion card advertisements flickering on winter nights.

Chris exhaled all the air from his lungs with a deep breath and gently placed the mysterious card into the drawer. Until he mastered the art of creating illusion cards, he would not attempt to unravel the mystery of this card.

Staring at the pile of discarded cards on the table, Chris remained silent as he sat back down. He had long grown accustomed to failure. All along, he had been figuring things out on his own, and failure had become routine. If he had given up after each setback, he wouldn't have made it this far.

"Keep going!" Chris silently clenched his fists.

Seven days had passed.

Chris's face showed unmistakable signs of fatigue, with bloodshot eyes betraying his exhaustion. In front of him was a heap of cards, none of which had intact patterns on their surfaces—they were all failures. For seven days, he had relentlessly attempted to create an illusion card, but not once had he succeeded.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his perception to control the pen in his hand. He could clearly feel the intense physical properties contained within the card ink flowing from the pen's tip, but he simply couldn't use his perception to guide the liquid and make it bond with the card. The ink-soaked tip of the pen felt like a wild, untamed horse that refused to obey his commands.

Chris's perception was low by now, and after several attempts, he had no choice but to rest and wait for it to recover. Seven days of relentless day and night efforts to create an illusion card had yielded no success. The blow to his confidence was far more exhausting than the physical and mental fatigue he felt.

Where had it gone wrong?

Chris agonizingly tugged at his disheveled hair. Slumping in his chair, he stared blankly at the pile of failed cards on the table. The past few days had drained not only his energy but also a significant amount of money. The most substantial expense had been on materials—even though he was working on a one-star illusion card, it had already cost him nearly 10,000 Oudi.

His meager savings couldn't withstand much more of this strain. Chris smiled bitterly to himself, feeling the weight of his dwindling resources.

He stood up and pushed open the window. The warm sunlight on his face made him squint in comfort. "No matter what, I should take a break," he thought.

Walking down the sunlit streets, Chris's mood, which had been terrible due to his failure in creating the one-star illusion card, gradually lightened. A sunny day was also a favorite of street kids like him because it meant not having to worry about the cold or about quietly losing one's life in the freezing wind. Humming a tune, with his hands clasped behind his head, Chris wandered aimlessly. Before he knew it, he found himself at the entrance of the East Guard Academy.

Chris had never been inside the East Guard Academy before, but now that his mood had lifted, he didn't hesitate and walked straight toward it.

The East Guard Academy didn't restrict entry to non-students, and because of its beautiful scenery and numerous historical sites, it attracted many visitors. The revenue generated from these visitors each year was substantial, so the school council made significant efforts to maintain the campus environment, making it one of the academy's unique features. Although East Guard Academy couldn't compete with the top 100 academies in the Federation in terms of academic strength, it consistently ranked in the top ten in the "Federation's Most Beautiful Academy" competition, a source of pride for the entire East Business City.

As Chris walked into the East Guard Academy, he was surrounded by groups of tourists. It was easy to distinguish between tourists and students; the students always wore neat uniforms. However, no matter where he went, Chris stood out like a sore thumb. With his messy, unkempt hair, wrinkled and dirty clothes, and a pair of worn slippers, not to mention his unwashed face after several days, he looked like a beggar.

Ignoring the curious glances from those around him, Chris calmly lay down on the grass. Having grown accustomed to the world's harsh realities during his childhood of wandering, he was immune to such disdainful looks. His act of lying on the ground seemed so natural that people around him were more convinced that he was a beggar and made a point to walk around him. Chris paid no attention to this, instead enjoying the warmth of the sun as he lay on the grass, feeling utterly relaxed. The sun's rays made him feel so comfortable that he had no desire to move.

At that moment, he heard someone speaking nearby...