"Westbridge High School, Russell."The man offered his hand with a relaxed smile.
Only now, seeing the insignia on his jacket—a certified Cardmaster from the Guild—did Russell finally lower his guard.
Zephyr Flynn, senior Guild Cardmaster, crouched to inspect the charred remains of the Ghoulfiends scattered across the street, clicking his tongue in surprise.
"All of them taken out in one strike? That card's not Blue-tier, is it?"
Russell nodded. "It's Purple-tier."
But his expression turned a little anxious. "I just crafted it this morning… I haven't reported it to the Guild yet. Am I in trouble?"
As an unregistered independent Card Crafter, Russell technically wasn't allowed to use high-tier cards in a public zone without Guild authorization.
Zephyr's eyebrows lifted. He had assumed Russell was a soon-to-be university freshman. It wasn't rare for elite students to craft a Purple-tier card after a year of prep—but to learn this was his first card?
He gave a casual shrug. "Don't sweat it. I'll file the report myself. The Guild should be thanking you, not lecturing you."
Then he grinned. "You've got serious talent, kid. I expect to see you at Westbridge University's Card Engineering Department next year."
Though surprised, Zephyr had seen his share of prodigies before.
Patting Russell on the shoulder, he added, "Relax. You probably saved dozens of lives today. That kind of initiative? The Guild respects it."
He glanced toward the fog-shrouded district boundary, remembering the detour he'd taken after running into a silver-tier Gluttonbeast.
If Russell hadn't been here first…
Still, no one could blame him. The Devil's Nest was infamous for spawning unpredictable horrors.
Zephyr raised his voice, turning to the crowd behind them.
"Alright, citizens of Harmony Gardens! I'll personally escort you to the safe zone at Clearwater District—"
His words were cut short by a thunderous shockwave that rippled through the sky.
All eyes turned upward.
Above Westbridge City, an enormous ethereal figure emerged from thin air—humanoid, armored in a robe of flowing shadows, its face obscured, its eyes glowing with cold judgment.
Then came the voice:
"Soulweaver Clan. You've overstepped."
With a single breath, the entity exhaled.
And that breath—gentle, almost peaceful—dispersed the entire fog bank cloaking the city.
The Riftspawn hiding within? Reduced to ash in seconds.
Russell stood frozen, staring at the sky.
"Cardmasters… can do that?"
Zephyr's voice was low, respectful. "That's Grandmaster Byron Whitmore. Codename: The Judge of Shadows."
"Core Card—King of the Underworld: Magnus the Justicar."
Russell swallowed.
That name… carried weight.
Then, a mocking, ragged voice echoed across the city:
"Byron, oh Byron… You can protect them for now—but not forever!"
Byron didn't move. His voice was steady, absolute.
"As long as I breathe, the eastern barrier will not fall."
"And besides… with Quinn around, would you really risk an all-out war?"
There was a pause. Then a bitter scoff.
"Quinn won't last much longer. We'll see who has the last laugh."
And with that, the towering form of Magnus the Justicar faded from the sky.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Russell exhaled. "The Soulweaver Clan talks big… shame their bite doesn't match their bark."
Zephyr smirked, then turned back to the residents.
"Alright folks, you heard him. Grandmaster Byron's already shut down the Soulweaver threat. You're safe to return home."
As the crowd began to scatter back toward their buildings, Zephyr looked at Russell.
"Hey. Let's get you registered at the Guild. No point waiting around—you'll have to report in tomorrow anyway, right?"
Russell nodded. "Yeah. Ms. Song would probably drag me there herself."
Zephyr summoned a utility card, conjuring two saddle rigs. Unlike summon cards, tool cards weren't limited in number.
Moongale, his massive silver wolf, knelt obediently.
"Hop on. This'll be faster."
Russell climbed on behind him, still awkward with the motion.
Wind tore past his ears as they rode toward the Clearwater District.
He squinted against the breeze. "This thing… road legal?"
Zephyr scrolled through his Guild app. "If it's a registered ride card, sure. Same rule applies to vehicle-type tools."
Russell raised a brow. "So technically… someone could ride a humanoid summon?"
"…?"
Zephyr glanced over, stone-faced.
"Kidding! It was a joke."
Zephyr chuckled. "Actually, there's a woman at Crownspire Academy who rides around on a giant shirtless summon. Every day."
"…What."
Russell had definitely been joking.
Sensing the danger in letting that conversation continue, he shifted topics.
"So what do you think the Guild's going to do with me?"
Zephyr looked at his phone. "They already told me: bring you in. That's it."
"Still time to jump off?"
Zephyr laughed. "If you were in trouble, you'd already be in chains."
The Guild had zero tolerance for rogue Crafters.
Just look at the Soulweaver Clan—always pushing their secret experiments, always claiming they were about to "change the world."
After a brief ride, the pair reached the Clearwater District branch of the Cardmaker Guild.
A middle-aged man stood at the front steps, clearly waiting.
His eyes lit up as he spotted Zephyr—then narrowed with interest when he saw Russell.
"You must be Russell. Zephyr briefed me."
He stepped forward, extended a hand, and shook Russell's firmly.
"On behalf of the Clearwater Guild, thank you. What you did today… took courage."
Russell blinked. For a moment, he was confused by the warm reception.
Then it clicked.
The Guild was going to use him as a symbol. A success story.
A teenage Cardmaker, untrained, unranked—defending an entire district during a Rift emergency?
Perfect PR.
And for now… he was okay with that.