Talia looked away from the card shimmering with purple light, a trace of helplessness in her eyes as she let out a faint, almost imperceptible sigh.
Having not crafted a card in a long time, she had nearly forgotten the glow that accompanied the flow of mana across a card's surface—especially the vivid brilliance it displayed upon completion and activation.
A card's grade largely reflected its power, value, and rarity.
The lowest grade, [White Common], was ubiquitous and represented the vast majority of magic cards in circulation. Most were mundane spells for daily life, equipment with few additional effects, or simple summons.
[Blue Precious] magic cards possessed complete and practical effects. They were refined, flawless creations that required stable and superb skill to produce. If a novice card maker managed to craft a card of this caliber, it was usually a sign of extraordinary talent.
Meanwhile, the even higher [Purple Rare] grade marked a qualitative leap in both value and power; ordinary people simply could not afford them. For wealthy nobles and most powerful figures, purple-grade magic cards were often the core pieces that matched their combat professions and formed the backbone of their decks. If a magic card of this tier came with practical supplementary effects, it could yield unexpected results no matter how low its base numbers might be.
Ordinary people knew almost nothing about the tiers above that. After all, to most humans, [Pink Sacred] magic cards were distant symbols and legends. In a border city of the kingdom like this one, it was rare to catch even a glimpse of someone who possessed a sacred card.
The reason for their scarcity lay not only in their sheer rarity, but also in the heavy deliberation required before soul-binding one. Under normal circumstances, magic cards were not permanently fused to a user after activation. It was simply that the higher the grade, the greater the price of severing a soul bond. But once a card reached the [Pink Sacred] grade, it could no longer be unbound and swapped at will outside of combat like the first three tiers; it required a tedious resealing process and inflicted prolonged damage upon the binder.
As for [Orange Epic], it was the highest tier of magic card known to mortal existence. Every epic card was unique, anchored to the world and woven through history. Once bound to a soul, severing the connection was nearly impossible, no matter what price one was willing to pay. Forcibly breaking the pact would inflict irreversible trauma and damage on both the wielder and the card.
Thus, white, blue, and purple cards offered high flexibility, allowing a user to adjust combinations at will based on tactics. In contrast, while pink and orange cards possessed far greater might, in the long run, even if one had the opportunity to bind one, they had to consider carefully whether it truly synergized with their build.
In the ancient legends of the Demon Realm, there existed an even higher tier above Epic, but it had not surfaced in millennia. With the fall of the demon nation, clues regarding such cards had become impossible to trace...
To someone as well-traveled and experienced as Talia, the noble Purple Rare grade was nothing extraordinary. She had crafted countless such cards herself. Yet compared to the quality of Lanqi's creation, she was far more bewildered by its bizarre effect.
Generally speaking, a card maker's early works reflected the style of their entire crafting career. And Talia found it genuinely hard to predict what even more outrageous things this fellow might concoct in the future.
Lost in thought, Talia let silence settle over the workshop once more.
"..."
Seeing that she said nothing, Lanqi refrained from disturbing her.
Gentle afternoon sunlight quietly filtered through the clouds, casting the silhouettes of window panes across the brown floorboards in flickering patterns.
Two weeks of tireless, all-consuming work had finally borne fruit, and Lanqi felt the tension leave his body. Leaning back in his chair, he was overtaken by a rare drowsiness in the midday lull.
Time inside the workshop seemed to briefly freeze, blanketed by a strange, tranquil air. The engraving pens, alchemy jars, ink bottles, and other tools scattered across the workbench felt as though they had been endowed with souls, whispering a poem of slumber in this fantastical realm.
Yet just as Lanqi was about to drift into dreamland, Talia's voice broke through like a plucked string on the wind, jolting his senses awake.
"How old are you?"
Her tone remained as placid as still water, devoid of any emotion.
"I'll be turning seventeen next year," Lanqi said, looking up at her.
He chose a relatively circumspect way to answer. After all, he wasn't sure if claiming to be sixteen outright would be detected as a lie by Talia. The physical age of his body was undeniably sixteen, but the age of his soul probably counted from before his transmigration.
"Then it's not too late for you to learn card crafting," Talia said, reevaluating the boy before her.
Over the past two weeks, she had watched him progress with her own eyes from total clumsiness to burgeoning proficiency, confirming that he truly possessed little to no prior crafting experience.
From what she had seen during years of wandering south from the continent's northernmost reaches across numerous human realms, this youth named Lanqi—aside from starting late and having a low tier himself—could already be hailed as a natural magic artificer among human card makers.
"Tata, in your opinion, is the magic card I made decent?"
Lanqi wore his usual guileless smile. There was no boastfulness in his words; he simply seemed convinced of Talia's extraordinary breadth of experience and was earnestly seeking her insight.
"...If it can be mass-produced and released onto the market, it might become a new staple card," Talia replied after a brief silence.
The reason for its versatility was simple: everyone would want to buy it.
Once this card circulated, the very nature of combat might change. Forcing an opponent to their knees might become even more important than victory or defeat.
Moreover, in a fair duel, it served as a deterrent—*If you dare make me kneel, I'll turn around and make you kneel right back.* One might never use it, but one could never afford to be without it.
Even though Talia felt Lanqi deserved to die whenever she imagined having to guard against enemies using such a scumbag spell at all times, in the long run, turning human combat into a chaotic, foul mess would only benefit her cause of restoring her nation.
Therefore, she had no intention of stopping Lanqi from abusing this card to contaminate the human magic card meta and environment.
"I see."
Lanqi picked up [Basic Etiquette] and examined it. A rather amiable smile curved his lips as he turned to Talia. "I can't give you this one, but I'm willing to sell you the next one. Going by my success rate, it'll probably take another few days of tinkering, and I'm busy preparing for the exam right now, so I'll only be able to make it for you after the exams are over."
"How much."
Though slightly surprised, Talia asked without hesitation. There was no questioning lilt in her voice; coming from her mouth, even questions sounded like flat statements.
She knew that before such a staple card entered mass circulation, its scarcity gave it peerless value.
What was more, as an original version, it held the intrinsic value of its "recipe."
Since Lanqi was willing to sell her the second copy, the price was bound to be steep.
Chapter 11