Tick Tock On The Clock [LITRPG Deckbuilding with Time Ticking down]

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{IF YOU TRULY WISH TO CARRY THIS BLADE… THEN STAND AS I DID. WHEN YOU CAN NO LONGER BREATHE, STAND. WHEN YOU CAN NO LONGER FIGHT, STAND. WHEN THE WORLD ABANDONS YOU—STAND.}

{The sword is not your hand. It is not your skill. It is not even your courage. The sword… is your choice.}

{Choose well, boy. Or don't choose at all.}

The words echoed through Cassian's soul like a divine edict, hammering against the walls of his mind as the vision shattered.

Hhaaa…

Cassian jolted upright; the return to reality hit him like a blow to the ribs. He gasped, blinking rapidly.

He was back.

The dim light of the shelter room flickered gently, casting long shadows across the walls. The soft hiss of running water drifted in from the shower. Steam curled lazily across the mirror, clinging like the remnants of a dream that didn't want to let go.

His hands trembled. But this time… it wasn't fear. It was reverence. Shock. Awe.

And buried beneath it all—sharp and solid—was resolve.

Cassian exhaled slowly, dragging his palms down his face. His breath was still shaky.

"Proceed…?" he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Wait, does this card have its own questline?"

Holy!!… A pseudo-legendary card has hidden depths. And judging from what he just witnessed?

A lot of it.

Still—he couldn't deny it. Even just watching the memory had surged something in him. His soul had felt like it was drinking in raw experience. The sensation had been… incredible.

The knight's blade. His will. The way he fought—not just with skill, but with meaning, with presence. His very existence was a weapon.

Cassian's pulse still hadn't slowed. The memory was burned into him, seared deep into muscle and marrow. That final stand in the burning field against that thing—the Archdemon of the Wuzsifa Horde. It had been like watching a god bleed.

Even now, recalling it made Cassian's heart race. His blood stirred with excitement; at this point, he wanted nothing but to imitate those moves… but there was a feeling deep within him that if he didn't meditate on the deep meanings, he would never grasp them.

If I could fully absorb that—if I could truly understand those memories—just how strong could I become?

And so he meditated.

And the knight had stood alone.

And won.

Barely—but he had won.

Cassian swallowed, the weight of the inheritance settling on his shoulders like a mantle still too large for him. But it was his now. And if he wanted his revenge—if he wanted that power—then he'd have to earn it.

Deep breaths…

No shortcuts.

If I want to stand at the top, I'll have to bleed for it.

Soon after hours passed and only when Cassian's mind ached just to hold concentration did he break the meditation.

He inhaled through his nose and asked a question that has stuck in his mind: "How strong were they… really?"

Cassian let out a long, low whistle, leaning back against the tiled wall. "Fourth Ascension, huh?"

Then, with a flick of his fingers and a thought, he called up the panel.

Cassian leaned back, his eyes scanning the glowing interface floating before him.

1st Ascension…

The words stared back at him, stark and quiet.

That aura—he could still feel the memory of it. The golden blaze blooming from the knight's body like a vow made manifest. The confidence that boy had shown, even on death's edge… the raw, unshakable will to stand.

To rise.

To fight.

One day, Cassian thought, pressing his fist against his chest.

I'll be there. I don't care how far it is. I'll reach that strength.

Arwyn's face flashed in his mind—cruel, untouchable. Cassian bit down on his lip hard and turned back toward the shower.

The cold water crashed over him once more, washing away the lingering sweat of memory. He braced both hands against the tiled wall, letting the chill anchor him. As steam curled around his bare frame, he looked up at his own reflection in the fogged mirror.

His eyes gleamed.

With hunger.

Hunger for strength.

For knowledge.

For power.

"Teacher… Wild One…" he asked aloud, his voice quiet but firm, "What do you think of Arwyn's strength?"

Cassian's brow furrowed, droplets of water slipping down his cheek.

So… no shortcuts then. I want him on his knees.

The messages continued.

Borrowed time… yeah, it's down to [05: 10: 38: 37], unless I clear this level.

Cassian didn't move for a while. Restrictions? And chains…

The water poured down around him, soaking his skin, but it felt like he was standing at the edge of something vast and terrible.

Cassian let the thoughts settle into the quiet hum of the room.

"Okay, then what can you tell me now about Aura?" he asked silently, the question directed toward his only two viewers. "I mean… how do I start? How do I actually begin practicing it?"

A response flickered a moment later.

Before Cassian could digest that, another line appeared, loud and proud.

Cassian's eye twitched.

He couldn't help the small smirk tugging at his lips. Of course, you did.

The Wanderer chimed in again, quieter now.

"Yeah," he murmured aloud, drying his hair with a towel and making his way toward the bed. "I do feel it. That memory… lots to learn."

He collapsed onto the mattress like a man dropping into water, every limb going slack as the exhaustion finally caught up. The room dimmed.

The interface faded.

And with the flicker of one last system glow vanishing from his vision, Cassian let himself drift.

The memories will still be there tomorrow.

But for tonight—sleep took him.

~~~

[05: 04: 48: 12]

The morning air was crisp. Sunlight streamed over the shelter's gates, casting a pale golden glow on the concrete and steel. A faint mist hung low to the ground, curling around the boots of the few sentries posted at the perimeter, but at the center of it all stood a small group.

Cassian tightened the straps of his gear-laden pack, adjusting the sheath on his back and tugging the bodysuit collar up once more.

Dorian stood a few paces away, flanked by Mara and Lian. The kids looked like they'd been trying to keep it together for hours. Lian's hands were clenched white around the straps of his satchel, his eyes glassy and red. Mara stared down at her feet, chewing the inside of her lip, her little fists trembling.

Cassian approached, letting out a breath.

"Well," he said, trying to sound light, "you two better not cause Uncle Dorian any trouble. He's a grumpy old man even when he's not surrounded by flaming demon dogs."

That got a weak chuckle from Lian. Mara didn't laugh—but she stepped forward and hugged him tightly without warning, her head buried in his chest. Cassian froze, surprised, then slowly lowered a hand to her back.

"You'll be okay," he whispered. "You both are stronger than you know."

She sniffled, nodded, and stepped back without saying a word.

Lian gave him a small, stiff salute. "You'd better come back," he said, his voice cracking. "You still owe me that story about your first gunfight."

Cassian smiled faintly. "I'll collect more chapters. Just for you."

Then he turned to Dorian. The old soldier didn't say anything at first. He simply extended his hand, his expression unreadable beneath the layers of weariness and pride.

Cassian took it.

The grip was firm. Unshaking.

Dorian looked him dead in the eye. "You did well, Cassian. Way better than anyone your age had a right to. But listen to me, and really hear it this time—don't bottle it all up."

Cassian blinked.

Dorian's voice was rough but steady. "I didn't get the chance before this, but that grief? That loss? It'll eat at you if you keep burying it. Don't mistake control for strength. You hold it all in long enough; it'll find a way to break you later. So feel it. Let it hurt. That's how you make room for something better."

Cassian didn't reply for a moment. His throat tightened.

He finally nodded quietly. "Yeah… I hear you."

The grip loosened. Dorian patted his shoulder once and stepped back. He exhaled, steadied his breath, and offered one last smile.

"I'll see you again," he said.

Dorian nodded once. "You'd better."

That's when the system chimed in, timely distracting him from any deeper introspection, for which he was grateful.

What?… that's a surprise, but I'll take it; finally, I have firearms and close combat skills.

But for now, I need to move… or else I…Fuuu

Let's go clear this damn quest, guys!

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