“A boss?” Deckard blinked, caught off guard. “I thought those were only in dungeons.”

  The man chuckled, waving a hand toward the chaos. “No dungeon for turtles, man. Instead, there’s this bad boy who roams this map. First come, first served.”

  The woman beside him rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder playfully. “The turtle’s a lady, actually.”

  Deckard’s gaze shifted to the water, where a fleet of makeshift rafts collided in what could only be described as the shabbiest naval battle he’d ever witnessed. Players yelled over one another, scrambling to reach the turtle. It’s like the coconut seagull but ten times worse.

  But Deckard wasn’t focusing on the details of this boss—not yet. Something the man had said piqued his interest. ‘No dungeon for turtles.’ That meant there might be one for other creatures.

  “Is there a dungeon for crabs?” he asked.

  The woman smirked and jabbed a thumb inland. “Oh yeah. Molting Grotto, it’s called.”

  “Where is it?”

  The man pointed at the cliff on the farther side of the bay. “There's an old tree over the cliff over there. That's where. Can't miss it.”

  Even from here, Deckard could see the tree he was referring to. It was the only green pop on the bay's westernmost cliff.

  Deckard’s lips curled into a grin. If the crabs’ dungeon were anything like Gull’s Rock, it would have two elites and a final boss. Moreover, from his earlier experimentation with [Cranky Seagull], cards made from elites boosted more of a stat than a normal card. He ran the numbers in his head. Between capturing crabs on the beach and clearing the lair, I can definitely gain at least one extra attack point. Combine that with the skill cards these crabs drop, and I’ll be a force to be reckoned with.

  This place was shaping up to be a goldmine. The turtles in the water, the crabs on the beach and in their dungeon, and Gull’s Rock, whose peak he could just make out above the eastern cliffs—crabs, turtles, seagulls. All cards that Deckard wanted to capture.

  First, he needed to test whether hunting crabs alone was viable. The beach was far too chaotic, and there were prying eyes everywhere. He would much rather experiment within the comfort and anonymity of the crab dungeon itself.

  With a final glance at the chaotic “battle” on the water, he climbed down the rock and headed toward the western cliff of Turtle Shell.

  Molting Grotto, here I come!

  *

  Deckard approached the weathered tree, its gnarled branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. Beneath it, a stone tablet rested on a pedestal of cracked stone. The area hummed with activity as players formed parties, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of excitement.

  Deckard barely spared them a glance. Partying up wasn’t his style, and he’d seen all this fuss before at the entrance to Gull’s Rock. His focus was solely on the stone tablet, the unmistakable marker of a dungeon entrance.

  Welcome to Molting Grotto

  Dungeon level: 4-6

  Recommended number of players: 4

  Boss: The Claw

  Elites: Bulwark Crab, Spider Crab

  As crabs grow, they must shed their old shells in a vulnerable process called molting. The Molting Grotto serves as a sanctuary for this critical stage. Here, the crabs gather, their collective strength and the looming guardian deterring would-be predators from disturbing their growth.

  Defeat The Claw to complete the dungeon.

  Would you like to enter? [Y/N]

  With a quick tap, a sharp vibration coursed through his hand, and his vision blurred as the world shifted.

  When his surroundings came into focus, he was inside a wide cavern. Moss clung to damp walls, and the air was heavy with the salty tang of still seawater. All over, there was the sound of constant dripping. Patches of glowing mushrooms dotted the grotto, casting an eerie blue-green light that danced across the rippling surfaces of small pools scattered around the floor.

  Deckard adjusted his glasses, the faint clink of metal against the bridge of his nose grounding him.

  If this dungeon was anything like Gull’s Rock, enemies were going to come at him fast after he traveled a little deeper into the dungeon. He studied the cavern. He could spot several tunnels all around him. It was a shift from the layout of Gull’s Rock. In the seagull dungeon, there was only one straight path. The developers seemed to have made things a little different here.

  “Let’s do some recon,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

  He moved cautiously, the soles of his boots making muted splashes against the wet stone. His senses were on high alert, eyes darting to every shadow, ears straining for any hint of movement. He approached a tunnel and heard a large clinking sound.

  Snap! Snap! Snap!

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  With each snap, the water from the tunnel fell in small droplets. Deckard gulped. Something told him that he didn’t want to go down this tunnel. He moved on to the next one, and that’s when he spotted the dungeon’s first obstacle—a yellow crab, its claws resting idly, perched near the edge of a shallow pool.

  “Finally, a solo target,” Deckard whispered, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He inspected the creature.

  Crab Underling

  Lvl. 4

  Hp: 80

  ???

  Does it only have 80 hp? That’s perfect! He glanced around, ensuring there were no hidden surprises waiting to ambush him. The coast seemed clear.

  Drawing a card from his deck, he flicked it with precision. The card sailed through the air with a soft whip, striking the crab with a satisfying snap.

  -4

  A translucent health bar materialized above its head.

  The crab froze, then reared back with an ear-piercing chitter. Its claws clashed together in a sharp, rhythmic beat that echoed through the grotto like a war drum. Deckard's grin faded as ripples spread across the pools around him, shadows emerging from the depths.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

  One by one, crabs crawled from the water, their pincers clicking in an aggressive chorus that made his skin crawl. The solitary target had just turned into a swarm.

  Instinct kicked in. Deckard spun on his heel and bolted, the sound of skittering legs pursuing him like a nightmare come to life. The crabs were faster than he expected, their claws snapping perilously close to his heels. His mind raced, calculating his options.

  What happens if I die here? Do I drop my cards? My entire deck? The thought made his stomach churn.

  Moreover, what would happen if he ran into another swarm of crabs and ended up cornered? That would spell his doom.

  He emerged from the tunnel and found that he was back at the starting point of the dungeon. He spotted a narrow crevice in the rocky wall. Deckard scrambled toward it, throwing himself upward with all the desperation of a cornered animal. His boots slipped against the slick stone, but his fingers found purchase, and he hauled himself up just as the crabs reached the base.

  The creatures snapped furiously at the rock, their claws clicking. Deckard pressed his back against the wall, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

  Crabs are a little too much for me right now. He had hoped that they wouldn’t swarm in the dungeon, but he could now see that it was wishful thinking. Seeing them swarming at the beach should have been proof enough that the same would happen inside the dungeon.

  Then, their lower health. No wonder their health was a little lower, even though they had a higher level than the diseased seagulls. It was because a player could not fight just one crab but had to fight their entire family.

  Oh well, little crabs. I’m sorry, but it’s time for a strategic retreat.

  Deckard opened the menu and tried to log out.

  Unable to log out during combat.

  The system message flashed before his eyes, the text glowing a mocking red.

  “Great. Just great,” Deckard muttered, glaring at the crabs below. They weren’t going anywhere, and their persistence made it clear they had no intention of giving up.

  What now? Deckard asked. There was no way that he could deal with so many crabs at once. He couldn't log out. He couldn't do anything. Moreover, he hadn’t died once since gaining his class. What if he dropped cards when he died? He wouldn’t mind losing any of his duplicates, but what if he dropped [Shallow Swarm], for example? That card was irreplaceable. He had no idea how to get a new one.

  He just sat there. Thinking. Waiting. As he studied the creatures so hellbent on killing him, Every so often, a soft chime rang in his ears, accompanied by a message.

  Understanding of crab underling has increased.

  He couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “Well, at least it’s not all a total waste of time. I’m still gaining understanding.”

  He took out his repository and saw how there was a new blue page featuring three crabs. The yellow little guys trying to kill him had the most defined picture. There was also the [Scizor Strike] card he’d traded at the pier of Stiltwave Village.

  I need to find a way out of here.

  Deckard started looking for something, anything, that would let him break out of this situation. He counted the crabs. There were six yellow crabs with a combined 480 hit points. With his deck being able to deal only 104 damage points in total, he stood no chance.

  He studied the cave around him. All the pools, columns, puddles, and walls. After several minutes of observation, an idea began to form.

  The crab he’d attacked had called for its companions. That meant that there shouldn't be more crabs in the vicinity, at least in the small area of the dungeon that he’d visited.

  His experience kiting lone diseased seagulls at the beach, combined with what he'd seen players do at the beach, coalesced into a new tactic. Could I kite them, like I did with the seagulls? Now that the idea had taken root, it didn't sound so crazy.

  He thought of the layout of the grotto. The tunnel to the left circled around until it came back. Maybe he could have them run after him in circles.

  There was also something he could do to improve his odds.

  Deckard drew a blank card from his deck and held it toward the nearest crab.

  Subdimensionalize!

  A swirling vortex appeared, pulling the crab into the card with a satisfying pop. The new card materialized in his hand.

  Deckard let out a triumphant laugh, clutching his prize. Depositing the card into his repository, he felt a small surge of power ripple through him—a temporary boost to his attack stat.

  The remaining crabs, however, were far from deterred. If anything, their fury intensified, their pincers clashing in a cacophony of rage.

  Deckard took a deep breath, bracing himself. Here goes nothing.

  He leaped from his perch, landing in a crouch.

  A few of the crabs managed to cut him.

  -5

  -7

  -6

  “Such high damage!”

  Deckard broke into a sprint with the crabs surging after him.

  He darted through the cavern, weaving between pools and obstacles to maintain his distance. With each sharp turn, he flung cards at the closest crab, chipping away at their health bar. The glowing mushrooms cast frantic shadows across the walls as the chase continued, his boots skidding on the wet stone as he pushed himself to stay ahead.

  One crab fell, its carapace shattering into glimmering fragments. Deckard patiently kept running one more lap until he could pass over the crab's corpse. He snatched up the cards and the rest of the loot without breaking stride.

  Noticing that his energy bar was almost out, he ran over to the crevice again and hauled himself up. The crabs, now down to four, furiously kept trying to reach Deckard.

  Oof.

  Deckard waited for his HP and energy to recover. Thanks to the title [Beginner Dungeoneer], he gained 5% more recovery of energy and HP when inside the dungeon, which came in handy. The strategy had worked. It was dangerous at times, but he was still able to kite the crabs and retrieve his ammo.

  Once his energy and HP were up again, Deckard went for another run. He defeated one more crab and ran back to his safe haven. Each victory bolstered his confidence, and he quickly fell into a rhythm: attack, kite, recover.

  By the time the last crab collapsed, Deckard was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. “Well,” he panted, a grin breaking through his exhaustion. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  Deckard crouched by the lifeless shell of the yellow crab and saw something in the spoils. “No way! A card?!”

  Amazon.