Miracle Card Shop: All My Cards Can Be Actualize

Daniel also agreed to support upgrading key infrastructure, such as roads, electricity, waterworks, and water supply. This includes providing a state-of-the-art desalination machine capable of supplying unlimited water to the country. The machine, designed by Nexus Prime, far surpasses current technologies.

Overall, everything is going in a direction neither the Sultan nor the people of the Sultanate of Aqaba could have ever imagined—but in a good way. It's like someone hoping to land a simple job at a convenience store just to get by, only to have the CEO of the store chain reveal that they are, in fact, the heir to a billionaire family. They had been raised by an ordinary family to prevent them from developing a "young master" mentality, but now it's time for them to return to the main family.

It's that kind of absurd, almost impossible scenario, yet it happened to them. This made the people in the Sultanate of Akaba to have a high hopes for the future.

— London - Beverley Brook —

Under the night sky, with the lights of London glowing on the horizon, the Beverley Brook Walkway feels like a hidden passage shrouded in mystery. The gentle gurgle of the brook echoes through the stillness, with the water reflecting the moonlight.

Tall trees arch over the path, their shadows dancing on the ground as a cool breeze rustles the leaves above. Dim, flickering street lamps cast long, eerie shadows that barely penetrate the darkened landscape.

In this secluded place, three robed figures walk through the walkway, chanting in a strange, unintelligible language, each word laden with mystery. All three are dressed in black cassocks, emblazoned with the emblem of the Vatican's Secret Exterminator unit on their chests.

The leading man, holding an old note in hand, passes a flickering lamp marked with the Roman numeral XIII. The marking isn't just an ordinary sign—it's a small, gold engraving hidden by an enchantment, visible only to high priests and mages.

The scent of damp earth and moss fills the air, and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth keeps one on edge, as if something unseen might be lurking in the darkness. The winding path stretches endlessly, disappearing into the night's obscurity. In the distance, the faint hum of the city is muted, giving the walkway an otherworldly feel.

The leading man's chant grows louder, his voice rising as though approaching a climax, before gradually slowing. The atmosphere shifts as the wind begins to howl, and the cries of night creatures grow louder and louder.

Then, suddenly, everything stops—silence falls, as if the strange events never occurred.

"Failed... again. Is there something missing from this note?" the leader mutters, frowning. He appears to be a man in his late forties.

"Leader, I think the Hightower must've duped us," says a young man with a skeptical look, glancing at the note in the older man's hand.

"No, I don't think so. This note is from one of the Reaper Gate guild members. There's no sign of tampering. It clearly says that at the 13th post, the passage to the realm shall open," the older man replies.

"Then... are you sure we're on the right path?" asks the youngest of the group—a woman with her long blonde hair tied in a bun.

The other two look at her as if she had just said something ridiculous, making her flustered as she hurried to explain.

"I mean... this note is from the Victorian era, right? Are you sure this walkway hasn't changed over time?"

The leader's eyes widen in sudden realization. "That's it!" he exclaims. He quickly consults his own notes, cross-referencing the historical changes to the walkway. After half an hour of study, he glances at the brook beside the path.

The middle-aged man looks at the two younger members with a clear implication. Seeing him shift his gaze to the brook, the two make faces as if they've realized something dreadful.

"No... please, don't tell me," the young man groans in dismay.

"I hope you both brought a spare set of underwear," the leader remarks dryly.

A few minutes later, the three begin the ritual again, but this time, they are wading through the brook, the water soaking their pants. Their expressions show clear discomfort, but it's unavoidable—this is their job.

The ritual reaches its end, and everything repeats itself. But this time... a warped portal suddenly opens in the middle of the brook.

"It actually exists..." the older man whispers in awe, and the three of them step inside.

Inside the warped portal is a vast ruin, resembling a slum, hidden within a secret realm. The slum seems purposefully designed to obscure something. Hundreds upon hundreds of vengeful souls hover through the air, some noticing the three intruders but not daring to approach, as the light of God protects them.

The young woman immediately prepared her pistols, dual-wielding the firearms that had been imported from Daniel's Astral Workshop. These pistols and their bullets worked miracles against abominations and foul creatures like vengeful souls.

The young man wielded a short spear, handling it as if it were an extension of his own body. The leader carried nothing but an old holy bible and his unwavering faith, shielding them from the darkness and animosity of the accursed beings and abominations around them.

The three ventured deeper into the ruins, where foul creatures lurked in the shadows, their eyes filled with hunger as they stared, ready to pounce. Yet, none dared approach, as the light of God would burn them, and the sanctified weapons and blessed bullets would purge them of their cursed existence.

Finally, they arrived at their destination: the ruins of the anomaly, the Soul Manor. In its place, there was nothing left but the foundation of the once-opulent manor and a pile of rubble.

"This is bad… there's nothing here… nothing but rubble," the middle-aged man said grimly.

"Isn't that a good thing? That there's nothing here?" the young man asked.

"No, it's bad. Really bad," the older man replied.

But before he could continue, the howls of vengeful spirits and foul creatures intensified around them.

"It seems we've overstayed our welcome! Retreat! Retreat now!" the leader commanded, immediately praying to God. The shield of light surrounding them intensified, repelling the foul creatures, pushing them back into the darkness.

The three quickly ran toward the warped portal they had opened. Gunfire rang out from time to time as the young woman's bullets purged the foul beings, cleansing them with flames that burned away their cursed souls.

Their teamwork was impeccable, honed over several years. They trusted each other completely. The young man used his spear to eliminate any creatures that dared enter the light, while the young woman covered his blind spots with precise shots. Meanwhile, the leader maintained the shield, issuing commands and warnings, occasionally using his holy bible to smack any creature foolish enough to come too close.

They rushed toward the portal, which was slowly closing, and leaped through. The young man face-planted into the mud of the brook, and the young woman landed on top of him, her weight forcing his face even deeper into the muck. The leader, though landing a bit awkwardly in the brook, quickly regained his balance and chanted a spell to close the portal.

"Mmph! Ugh! Ummm!" The young man flailed his arms, trying to free his face from the mud. The young woman quickly jumped off him, removing her weight from the back of his head.

"Haah! Spit spit cough cough," the young man sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of mud. "f*ck! Mud got into my mouth!" He glared at the young woman. "You're so damn heavy! Were you trying to kill me?"

The young woman, about to apologize, froze. Her expression turned cold, and she glared daggers at him. "Call me heavy again, and I'll put another hole in your ass!" she threatened, cocking her pistol.

"Okay! Okay! Will you two knock it off? We've got work to do!" the leader snapped. "We need to report this to His Holiness!" He let out a tired sigh. "Ugh… this shit is way above my pay grade."

"Huh? Why, leader?" the young man asked, confused by the leader's expression, which looked as though he had just discovered a truckload of fresh poop in his own closet.

The leader didn't immediately answer the young man. Instead, he led them out of the brook and onto dry land before he began to explain.

"Our mission here in London is to figure out why vengeful spirits, which should be bound to their haunted places, are now free to roam. According to records from the Vatican, only an anomaly can alter such rules. In this case, it's the Soul Manor—a once ordinary manor that became an anomaly.

An anomaly is something that defies the natural laws, changes them. It's something that shouldn't exist, yet reality itself doesn't reject it, almost as if it accepts the change, even though it breaks the rules.

This type of anomaly becomes so embedded in reality that even after it's destroyed, it leaves behind a residue of distortion. And the fact that we found nothing here means that at least one similar anomaly has appeared somewhere else in the world.

But this world is vast… we have no idea where to even start. It's worse than searching for a needle in a haystack!" the leader explained.

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