Black Solstice-Chapter 36: Performance Evaluation [3]

"Ugh." Moments later, Olga released a resigned sigh as she looked at the purple card.

The color of a Spell Card were particularly vibrant.

If the tier reflected a card’s raw power, then the color reflected its value and rarity. In other words, tier dictated what a Spell Card could do, while color dictated how difficult it was to obtain.

The lowest [Black] Cards were ubiquitous and easily found in the market, serving as the most common form of circulated magic cards. Most of them contained simple everyday spells with minimal additional effects.

[Green] Spell Cards, a step above, offered complete and practical functions. [Blue Preciousness] Cards followed, regarded as minor masterpieces that required stable skill and careful craftsmanship. If a novice cardmaker managed to produce a Blue Card, it was a clear sign of exceptional talent.

Above them were the more advanced [Purple] Cards. These possessed higher value and a noticeable qualitative leap in structure and effectiveness. Ordinary geniuses would need several years of dedicated effort before they could reliably create cards of this class.

As for the superior ranks like [Red], [Gold], and [White], very few devils knew anything concrete.

Their creation, circulation, and usage were so limited that most information about them remained rumor, speculation, or classified academic theory.

Red Spell Cards were already regarded as a distant symbol and an emblem of ascension. It was rare to encounter the traces of a Red-grade cardholder even once in an entire year.

Their scarcity came not only from their rarity but from the gravity of binding one to the soul. Ordinarily, Spell Cards did not permanently attach to the user after activation.

But once a card reached Red Rarity or higher, it gained the capability to form a permanent soul-binding contract.

And the higher the color and rank of the card, the more difficult it became to break that bond.

For Red Ascended Cards, severing the connection was never a simple matter. Unlike the first four color grades, Red Cards required an extensive re-encapsulation procedure. The process was costly, delicate and inflicted lasting spiritual strain on the binder.

Gold Mythical Cards was widely recognized as the highest grade of spell card that sentient beings could realistically hope to encounter.

Every gold card were unique and anchored to reality.

Once bound to a user’s soul, unbinding became nearly impossible.

Forcibly breaking such a contract inflicted irreversible damage on both the user and the card, often crippling one and destroying the other.

Because of this, while Black, Green, Blue, and even Purple Cards offered high flexibility, could easily be swapped, reconfigured, or combined according to tactics, Red and Gold Cards were treated very differently. Their compatibility with a user’s system had to be considered carefully, even if one had the rare chance to bind them.

Rumors circulated about the elusive White Cards, but they were so rare they were considered closer to myth than craft. It was said that even if a devil spent their entire lifetime devoted to the study and practice of Cardmaking Production, they would still be unable to create one.

Many had attempted and all had failed.

Regardless, one rule remained absolute: the higher the color, the rarer and more invaluable the Spell Card.

But color alone didn’t determine a card’s combat worth.

That role belonged to the tiers.

For example, a Tier I White Card was rarer and more valuable than a Tier V Black Card, yet the Tier V one still packed exponentially more destructive effects.

Both systems mattered, but for entirely different reasons.

Olga, with her wealth of experience, did not find the noble Purple cards particularly impressive. She had crafted several cards of that quality over the years.

What caught her attention was not the quality of Cassius’ card, but its unusual effects.

A novice’s early works often revealed the direction of their future cardmaking style. And judging by this one, it was difficult to imagine what kind of outrageous creations this fellow would produce in the years to come.

As Olga mulled over the possibilities, the cardmaking workshop settled into a long, stretching silence.

"..."

Sometime later, she awakened from her reverie and raised a question.

"Have you ever thought about becoming an official Cardmaker?"

Cassius, upon receiving this question, seemed confused.

"An official Cardmaker...?"

Olga nodded.

"Yes. A licensed, fully recognized practitioner. Have you thought about becoming part of the Cardmaker Association?"

"I... never really thought about it."

"That is exactly why I’m asking. Most students who come through this workshop dream of becoming official Cardmakers, Rune Translaters, or Arcane Engineers. But you behave like someone who wandered in by accident and started producing abnormalities."

Cassius flinched a little, forcing a strained smile. "Professor, that sounds... very strange to say. Are my cards really that good?"

Olga regarded him silently for a moment. "...If it were mass-produced and entered the market, it could become a new universal card."

The reasoning was simple.

This card could be universally applicable because everyone would want it. Once it circulated, it had the potential to shift the very nature of battle.

It did more than inflict damage, it humiliated the enemy while simultaneously immobilizing them.

For those who relied on Magic or any Sorcery-Utility Items, this was rather devastating. Using these abilities required precise control of one’s reishi: An individual will send electrical impulses through the brain, manipulating the flow of energy in their body, while external reishi resonated with it.

But if a person could no longer move their reishi, especially under physical bowel distress, their entire system was effectively paralyzed.

Therefore, it followed the principle of "If you dare approach me, I’ll make you regret it!" rather seriously.

Even the thought of having to defend such a peculiar effect was damning and irked Olga to no end. She thought Cassius deserved to be damned for this creation.

Worst yet, as a teacher, she could not prevent him from using this card in the future, she could only influence him against it but that didn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t use it.

"..."

Cassius didn’t say anything and remained silent, looking down at the [Pestilent Flow] card in his hand, thinking thoughts only him knew.

After a long pause, a friendly smile slowly spread across his face as he said:

"Well, like I said earlier, I’m keeping this card for myself. But I could sell the next batch after this. Not that I’ll be able to make anymore today, maybe in a few days. I’ve got a ton of work and assignments, especially Professor Corvell’s, so I probably won’t have time. Maybe after the upcoming introductory evaluation."

"So your plan is to hoard the first one, then mass-produce the rest when it’s convenient?"

"Guess you could say that. I get to experiment safely with one, and the next ones... well, I could sell them. Who wouldn’t want to make a little profit? Like you said, this card could become a universal card. If I could make several more of the same quality, everyone would want them, correct?"

"How much are you planning to sell these cards for?" Olga asked without hesitation, her expression as stern as ever.

Inside, however, her thoughts were racing.

If he truly managed to produce multiple cards of the same quality and planned to sell them, she would have to be the first to secure one by any means necessary. Before a universal card was officially circulated in the market, its scarcity alone guaranteed immense value.

And as the first edition, this card held an even greater significance, it contained the "recipe."

In this case, it was a matter of first come, first served!