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

[04: 10: 27: 33]

...

The tent smelled like old canvas and dried sweat. Cassian lay on his bedroll, his eyes open, staring at the patched fabric of the ceiling. Four hours had passed since the fight with Graath'mor. Four hours since dawn broke and the hunt ended.

Four hours, and he still couldn't sleep.

His body was exhausted—muscles sore, wounds healed but still tender—but his mind? That was wide awake and racing. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again—that moment. The silver light erupting from his chest like a star going supernova. The way the world had sharpened to crystal clarity. The rush of power flooding through his veins like liquid fire.

Aura.

Even now, just thinking about it made his heart beat faster. The enhancement it gave him was insane. No cards needed. No essence cost. Just pure raw power born of conviction.

Though it was taxing as hell on my mind.

But he had matched a Second Ascension demon blow for blow. Him. A seventeen-year-old kid who'd only been in this nightmare for what, a few days?

Cassian flexed his hand, watching the tendons move under his skin. The power wasn't there right now—he'd let the aura fade after the battle—but he could still feel it. Like an echo in his bones. A promise that it would come back when he needed it.

That was the most alive I've felt since... since Mom.

The thought made his chest tighten. He pushed it away and, surprisingly, with all his enhancements, his mind was also much, much stronger.

A notification chimed softly in his peripheral vision. Chat messages. Of course. His viewers never really shut up, did they?

Cassian traced the infinity symbol in the air with one finger, and the chat window materialized, translucent and glowing faintly blue.

…

[The Wild One]: Finally! You're starting to awaken properly, minion! That rush you felt? That's just the BEGINNING! Once you really learn to channel aura, you'll be able to—

[The Keeper of Archives]: Ohhh, our little pup is growing! That aura usage was crude but effective. With proper refinement and study of the foundational principles, you could achieve a resonance frequency that—

[The Eternal Wanderer]: Control before power, young Cassian. Remember that. A sword wielded with precision cuts deeper than one swung with only strength.

…

Cassian raised an eyebrow. Okay, at least they were being helpful for once. That was new.

…

[The Wild One]: Precision? PRECISION?! Did you SEE that kid go toe-to-toe with Graath'mor? That was pure instinct! Raw hunger! That's how you fight!

[The Keeper of Archives]: Pure instinct will get him killed against more experienced foes, you glorified barbarian. He needs to understand the THEORY behind aura manipulation. The way it interacts with soul structure and—

[The Wild One]: THEORY?! You want him to sit around reading dusty books while demons eat his face?!

[The Keeper of Archives]: Better than charging headfirst into every battle like some berserker with a death wish!

[The Wild One]: AT LEAST I'M NOT BORING!

[The Keeper of Archives]: AT LEAST I HAVE A BRAIN!

[The Eternal Wanderer]: ...I'm not participating in this.

…

Cassian sighed and waved his hand, dismissing the chat window. "And they're back to normal," he muttered. "Can't even stay helpful for five minutes."

Still, it was kind of nice. Proof that even cosmic beings, and he was sure that's what they were, watching his every move could be petty idiots. Made them feel more... human, somehow.

He sat up, rolling his shoulders. Time to actually test this thing out. He breathed deeply, centering himself the way he'd done in the middle of battle. Reaching inward, searching for that spark of power.

And there it was.

The aura responded instantly, flaring to life around his heart. Silver light pulsed through his chest, warm and electric. But as Cassian focused on it—really focused—he noticed something weird.

The aura came from his heart. No question about that. He could feel it originating there, burning bright and fierce like a second pulse. But his essence? That also came from his heart, yet... not. It was like there were two separate sources occupying the same space. One visible, one invisible. One tied to his physical heart, the other to something... deeper.

It's like there's a ghost heart lying right beside my real one.

Cassian pressed his hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. One pulse. But two distinct energies flowing from that single point. Essence traveled through pathways, veins carved into his body by the system. Aura just... burned. No pathways needed. It existed because he willed it to exist.

"That's weird as hell," he said aloud. "Are they both coming from the same place, or are they in different... layers? Dimensions?"

No answer. The system stayed silent. Typical.

He let the aura fade again, exhaling slowly. His mind drifted to earlier—after the fight, when they'd all gathered around the campfire. Drinks had been passed around. Food, too, though he couldn't remember what it tasted like now. Just the warmth of it. The laughter.

Arin had been there, grinning despite his injuries, retelling the fight with dramatic hand gestures. "And then Cassian just pulls out a sword from nowhere—like, bam! Where did that even come from?"

"Inheritance," Cassian had replied with a shrug. "Stole it from father's vault before he managed to kick me out here."

"That's the worst explanation I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome for saving your ass."

"You're welcome for saving your ass first!"

They'd laughed. Others had joined in. For a few minutes, it felt almost normal. Like he wasn't trapped in a dungeon filled with demons. Like they were just... people. Friends, even.

Cassian smiled faintly at the memory. Then the smile faded.

They're not real. This is a dungeon. A scenario. These people are memories or constructs or whatever the hell the system makes them from.

But they felt real. That was the problem. They laughed and bled and fought and died like real people. And sitting around that fire, sharing food and stories, Cassian had felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Belonging.

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. Dangerous territory. Can't get attached to dungeon NPCs. That's how you end up fucked up when they inevitably die.

"Alright, enough moping," Cassian muttered, standing up. He stretched his arms over his head, feeling his spine pop in several places. Felt good. His hair was growing back, too—finally. He could feel stubble on his scalp now instead of just smooth skin. Give it another day or two, and he'd look almost normal again.

Time to check the damage. Or gains. Hopefully gains.

Cassian traced the infinity symbol in the air again, summoning his Soulkeep. The grey grimoire materialized with its familiar weight, pages flipping open automatically. He navigated to his status screen, and the window bloomed to life in front of him.

Cassian stared at the screen. Then he blinked. Then he stared again.

"What the actual fuck?"

His HP was 1439. One thousand, four hundred, thirty-nine. The last time he'd checked—like, right before entering this dungeon—his max HP had been around 731. Maybe a bit higher with buffs active. But over a thousand? That was insane.

And his stats. Strength at 75. Vitality at 74. Perception at 40. Those numbers were way higher than before. Like, ten points higher across the board. Minimum.

I didn't absorb any new attunement cards. So where did all this come from?

His eyes drifted down to the bottom of the status window. Skills: 9. He'd had seven skills before. And below that: Power Paths: 1. Companions: 1.

"Okay, System," Cassian said slowly. "What the hell is a Power Path?"

No response. Because of course not, have to do everything manually here.

He tapped on the [SKILLS] section, and a new window expanded in front of him.

Cassian tapped on BATTLEFIELD AWARENESS first.

Cassian read it twice, then nodded slowly. "Okay, that makes sense. Fighting with Arin probably triggered this." The coordinated attacks, the way they'd learned to cover each other's weaknesses on the fly. Yeah, that tracked.

Then he tapped on AURA MANIPULATION, and his breath caught.

Cassian read the description three times. Each time, his eyes caught on a different detail. 200-300% enhancement to physical capabilities. 150-200% to mental. Plus ten bonus points to all stats just for having the skill unlocked.

"Holy shit," he breathed. "That's why I could match Graath'mor. The Alpha was a full ascension above me, but with aura active, I was basically..." He did the math in his head. "Wait, if my strength was 65 before, and aura boosted it by, let's say 250%... that's like 162 effective strength. Plus the +10 bonus. Fuck."

No wonder Graath'mor had looked surprised. Hell, I would be too if the prey suddenly became the predator.

On that thought, are the predators real? Would I run across one?

He thought back to the fight. When he'd tried to cast [Expedite] with his aura active, the spell had just... fizzled. Failed completely. At the time, he'd been too busy not dying to question it. But now?

"System," Cassian said aloud. "Why did my sorcery fail when I had the aura active?"

A notification popped up immediately.

Cassian frowned. "So I can't use my destruction cards while the aura is active?"

"May or may not…" Cassian scoffed, "Wow, system, you truly outdone yourself."

The idea of losing his ten-foot-tall murder machine had been genuinely upsetting. "Okay, that would mean more testing and optimizing."

He dismissed the skill window and returned to the main status screen. Two categories remained unexplored: Power Paths and Companions.

Cassian tapped [POWER PATHS], curiosity eating at him.

Cassian stared at the entry for a long moment. Then he read it again. Then a third time, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Silver Dawn," he murmured. "That's... actually kind of cool."

But the implications made his head spin. A self-created path. Not inherited. Not taught. Something unique to him, forged from his experiences and his Truth. That meant there was no manual. No guide. No teacher could tell him what came next.

He'd have to figure it out as he went.

A strange mix of pride and terror settled in his chest. This wasn't just a skill he could level up—it was a road. A direction his entire fighting style would evolve toward. And once he committed to walking it, there might not be any going back.

At least the Silver Dawn. It had a nice ring to it.

Finally, he tapped on COMPANIONS, half-expecting to see Arin's name listed.

Cassian's gaze drifted to the dagger resting beside his bedroll. Sindivinity's surface gleamed dully in the tent's dim light, red veins pulsing with what almost looked like... contentment.

"So you're officially my companion now, huh?" Cassian reached out, brushing his fingers across the blade. The metal was cool to the touch, but the veins warmed under his hand. "Guess that makes us partners."

The dagger pulsed once—warm, satisfied. Almost like a cat purring.

Cassian smiled despite himself. After everything they'd been through together—the desperation, the blood, the moment when Sindi had evolved into a sword to match his awakening—it felt right. More than just equipment. More than just a weapon.

Kin.

"Don't let it go to your head," Cassian muttered, but his tone was fond. He dismissed the status window and leaned back against the tent pole, mind churning through everything he'd just learned.

Nine skills. One power path. One companion. And a Truth that made demons hesitate.

Not bad for a "warrior pup."

"Alright," Cassian said to the empty tent. "Before I do anything else—System, is there anything I'm forgetting? Any rewards or loot or... I don't know, gacha bullshit, I haven't checked?"

Silence.

Then, after a beat too long to be natural, a chat notification popped up.

[The Wild One]: FUCK! I LOST THE BET!

[The Keeper of Archives]: HA! Thank you, Cassian! Oh, this is delicious! PAY UP, Wild One! You owe me THREE FAVORS!

[The Wild One]: I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW

[The Keeper of Archives]: Should've bet on the kid remembering instead of against him. Rookie mistake.

[The Eternal Wanderer]: You should have accumulated a decent amount of wish fragments by now, young Cassian. Not to mention, you haven't checked your balance since obtaining the legendary card.

Cassian scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Uh. Yeah. That's... fair." He could feel stubble under his fingers now—hair slowly growing back. Give it time. "I kind of forgot about the whole gacha system."

[The Wild One]: HOW DO YOU FORGET ABOUT FREE LOOT?!

"Because I was busy not dying?"

[The Keeper of Archives]: A fair excuse, actually.

Cassian chuckled and waved away the chat window. "Alright, System. Show me my current balance."

Cassian whistled low. "Three hundred? Damn, that's actually not bad." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Can I pull inside a dungeon, or is there some weird restriction?"

"Sweet." Cassian nodded. "Alright, show me what banners are up."

The screen shifted, displaying five distinct options in neat rows:

Cassian studied the options, drumming his fingers against his thigh. Three hundred fragments. That was thirty pulls on Standard, fifteen on the specialized banners, or thirty on the Dungeon banner. Decisions, decisions.

"The Dungeon banner is shit…" he muttered. "Standard is cheaper, and I could get stuff from any attunement..." He scratched his jaw. "Maybe split it? Do like—"

His thoughts cut off mid-sentence.

The system interface in front of him flickered. Once. Twice. Then the edges started to warp, pixels bleeding into each other like a corrupted video file.

"Uh." Cassian straightened up. "System?"

No response.

The flickering intensified. Red error messages began cascading across his vision, layering over each other so fast he couldn't read individual words. The text pulsed angry crimson, accompanied by a sound like nails on a chalkboard mixed with static.

"What the—" Cassian's heart rate spiked. His vision was completely flooded with red now, notifications piling on top of each other in a digital avalanche. He couldn't see the tent anymore. Just red text and error messages screaming at him from every direction.

Panic clawed at his throat, but he forced it down. Stay calm. Breathe. Think.

"System!" Cassian barked, his voice sharp with command. "Show only the important notifications! Everything else, mute it!"

The cascade of red text froze. Then, one by one, the redundant messages began to fade, dissolving like smoke until only a handful remained. Each one burned brighter than before, searing itself into his retinas.

Cassian stared at the messages. Read them once. Twice. His brain struggled to process what he was seeing.

Twenty-one hours. The demons were going to activate something called a Demon Core. Transform the entire world. Kill everyone.

Oh, fuck the dynamic difficulty.

Thirty minutes to prepare before being kicked out of the dungeon.

But the timer in the corner of his vision was already counting down.

[00: 29: 47]

[00: 29: 46]

[00: 29: 45]

Blood drained from Cassian's face. His hands clenched into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms.

"Fuck."

...

FYI

KNOWLEDGE PACKET — DYNAMIC DIFFICULTY

Every 'story' that a time-bound experiences has a fixed difficulty at the start—a difficulty determined by the culmination of factors like the power scaling of the story, the availability of resources, the knowledge that exists within its realm, and more. This isn't a game where you can simply restart if things go wrong; it's a real story, with events unfolding much like they do in anyone's life.

Imagine you always dreamed of becoming a doctor. And now let's say if you fail the exams and can't get into a top medical school, does that mean you're no longer destined to be a doctor? Not at all—but the challenge, the difficulty, increases.

Likewise, in the world of the 'story' you're in, every event can alter the difficulty—raising it or lowering it.