My Deck Is Made Up Of OP Anime Characters

In a sterile monitoring room somewhere within the [Night Banquet] facility, a young technician nervously adjusted his headset while watching the screens displaying the two combatants preparing for battle.

"Captain, the two of them are about to fight. Do we really not need to intervene?" the technician asked, uncertainty clear in his voice as he observed the increasingly tense atmosphere between the two young Lore Cardians.

The facility captain, a weathered man whose Gold-level spiritual pressure marked him as someone who'd seen his share of conflicts, barely glanced up from his reports. His expression carried the weary resignation of someone caught between forces far beyond his ability to influence.

"Why should we get involved in a fight between gods?" he replied with obvious irritation, setting down his paperwork with deliberate force. "We can't afford to offend either side in this mess."

He leaned back in his chair, the metal creaking under his weight as he considered the political minefield surrounding their current situation. "Besides, everyone who matters knows that young master Wu tried to become Master Lucian's apprentice a few years ago, only to be rejected outright."

The captain's voice carried a warning note as he continued. "If you interfere with their business now, be very careful that they don't come after you later. I've seen what happens to people who get caught in the crossfire of their personal vendettas."

As a Gold-level Lore Cardian with decades of experience navigating the treacherous currents of imperial politics, the captain understood exactly what forces were at play here. This wasn't a simple dispute over resources, it was the collision of two powerful factions, each with the backing to destroy careers and lives with casual indifference.

More importantly, he had absolutely no interest in becoming collateral damage in someone else's war.

If he weren't the only Gold-level Lore Cardian currently stationed at the [Night Banquet] secret realm, he would have submitted a leave request the moment these two arrived. Unfortunately, duty demanded his presence, even if wisdom counseled retreat.

The young technician laughed nervously, clearly understanding the implicit message, and wisely chose not to press the matter further.

However, the captain suddenly straightened in his chair as movement on the monitoring screen caught his attention. His eyes widened in genuine surprise as he processed what he was seeing.

"Wait," he muttered, leaning forward to get a better view. "Master Lucian's disciple has already opened his eyes? He's finished creating his card?"

The captain stared at the screen in disbelief, watching as Azrael calmly examined his surroundings while Crowley remained deep in concentration with closed eyes.

"Master Lucian's disciple just received those materials moments ago," the technician observed with growing amazement. "For him to complete the creation process so quickly... I'm afraid the quality won't be very high, right?"

The captain touched his chin thoughtfully, his tactical mind already calculating the implications. "It seems that young master Wu is going to claim victory in this encounter."

He shook his head with something approaching sympathy. "But there's nothing we can do about it. Anyone would suffer in this situation."

"I honestly don't understand why Master Lucian's disciple agreed to these conditions in the first place."

The technician scratched his head, offering his own theory. "Maybe he was tempted by those premium materials? Even if the duel doesn't go well, he still gets to keep whatever he creates."

The captain looked at the young man as if he were displaying terminal stupidity. "Do you think Master Lucian's personal disciple has Lore Cardian debts to pay off like you do?"

Ignoring the technician's embarrassed silence, the captain continued studying the screen with growing perplexity. "Could it be that Master Lucian's disciple is genuinely confident in his abilities?"

He naturally didn't believe Azrael would covet such a modest set of Silver-level materials. The young man's willingness to accept this duel suggested he possessed some form of strategic advantage that wasn't immediately apparent.

But observing Crowley's continued state of deep concentration, the captain suppressed what seemed like an increasingly unlikely theory.

After all, creating cards quickly didn't necessarily correlate with creating powerful cards.

Silence settled over the monitoring room for several minutes before the captain spoke again, decision crystallizing in his voice. "No, I need to observe this situation firsthand. Take over the monitoring station."

Without waiting for confirmation, he rose from his chair and headed toward the exit, leaving the bewildered technician to manage the surveillance equipment alone.

Meanwhile, in the corrupted landscape of the secret realm itself, Azrael sat in patient meditation while Crowley remained locked in creative concentration. The oppressive atmosphere of the [Night Banquet] pressed down around them like a physical weight, but neither young man seemed affected by the realm's malevolent influence.

Just as Azrael began wondering whether his opponent had encountered some form of creative block, Crowley's eyes suddenly snapped open with intense focus.

A newly created card floated before him, radiating the distinctive spiritual energy of a successful Silver-tier creation. After carefully storing the card in his mental space, Crowley's expression shifted to one of excited anticipation mixed with predatory satisfaction.

However, when he noticed Azrael watching him with obvious impatience, confusion flickered across his features.

"Azrael, you finished so quickly?" Crowley asked, genuine surprise coloring his voice as he processed the implications.

Crowley felt his worldview wavering slightly. These were materials he had personally provided, carefully selected from his family's extensive collection. How had Azrael completed the creation process faster than someone who had been planning this specific card for months?

Unable to reconcile this unexpected development with his strategic assumptions, Crowley couldn't help but voice his suspicions. "Azrael, there's no need for such... haste. If you simply admit defeat now, I won't demand the return of those materials."

He assumed Azrael had panicked under pressure and rushed through the creation process, producing something of inferior quality rather than risking total failure through overambition.

Hearing this patronizing offer, Azrael regarded Crowley with obvious puzzlement. "Since we're both ready, shall we begin the battle?"

When Azrael avoided responding directly to his generous suggestion, Crowley interpreted the evasion as confirmation of his theory. The young man's confidence was merely a facade covering deep insecurity about his hasty creation.

Master Lucian's legendary discernment? Crowley thought with cold amusement. Perhaps the old man's reputation has been somewhat exaggerated.

However, when Azrael summoned his newly created card, Crowley's smug certainty evaporated like mist before the morning sun.

Before Azrael stood a figure of ethereal beauty and undeniable nobility, a young woman with golden hair bound in an elegant ponytail secured with a black ribbon. Her pristine white and silver armor gleamed despite the realm's perpetual gloom, while her emerald eyes blazed with determination that spoke of royal bloodline and destined greatness.

"Is that... King Arthur?" Crowley stammered, staring at the manifestation in complete disbelief.

Azrael hesitated for a moment before nodding confirmation, curious to see how his opponent would react to this revelation.

Crowley's gaze swept between Azrael and the armored maiden, anger beginning to build in his chest like a rising storm. "King Arthur is a woman? What kind of ridiculous joke is this?!"

Where did this absolutely wild interpretation come from? he thought with mounting fury. It's completely beyond the bounds of acceptable historical revision.

The deviation from established Arthurian legend was so extreme that Crowley felt personally insulted, as if Azrael were deliberately mocking both his intelligence and his cultural knowledge.

Taking several deep breaths to regain his composure, Crowley forced his emotions back under control. Whatever games his opponent was playing, he would demonstrate the superiority of orthodox card creation through decisive victory.

With calculated precision, he summoned the card he had just completed.

An elderly woman materialized on the battlefield, her ancient features marked by countless centuries of patient duty. She wore simple robes and carried a delicate porcelain bowl that seemed to contain swirling depths of memory and forgetting.

"Meng Po," Azrael identified immediately, recognition dawning as he observed the legendary figure.

The current situation struck him as deeply ironic. Anyone observing without context might assume Crowley was actually Master Lucian's disciple, given his perfect alignment with underworld mythology themes.

When Meng Po fully manifested on the battlefield, the atmosphere around them grew heavy with supernatural power. The very air seemed to thicken with the weight of accumulated souls and forgotten memories.

Artoria studied her opponent for several long moments, emerald eyes analyzing potential threats and tactical approaches with the keen instinct of someone born for combat. Finally, she chose to seize the initiative rather than wait for Meng Po to establish defensive positioning.

Dark blue energy erupted around Artoria's form as [Mana Burst] enhanced her physical capabilities beyond normal human limitations. The ground beneath her feet exploded into fragments as she launched herself forward with devastating speed.

When she reappeared, it was directly in front of Meng Po, Caliburn already descending in a lightning-fast strike aimed at ending the battle before it could truly begin.

Looking at the armored maiden who had crossed the distance in a single bound, Meng Po's ancient features remained completely calm. She had witnessed countless warriors throughout her eternal duty, and few had impressed her with their speed alone.

A torrent of blood-yellow liquid materialized from empty air, surging toward Artoria like a tide of liquid memory. In the span of a heartbeat, the flowing river threatened to completely engulf the Knight Princess.

BOOM!

Roaring sword winds erupted from Caliburn's edge, carving a massive gap through the supernatural waters and allowing Artoria to escape the deadly embrace. She landed several meters away from Meng Po, her expression now carrying the serious focus of someone who recognized a genuinely dangerous opponent.

The moment the blood-yellow waters had appeared, her [Instinct] ability had screamed warnings about the catastrophic consequences of contact. Whatever that liquid represented, it carried powers that could cripple or destroy even her enhanced form.

"So she can summon the waters of the River Lethe," Azrael observed with professional appreciation. "Setting aside Crowley's character flaws, his card creation skills are undeniably competent."

He recognized the legendary river that formed the boundary between the world of the living and the realm of the dead, waters that could strip away memory, identity, and will with a single touch.

On the battlefield, Artoria studied the surging blood-yellow river that now surrounded Meng Po like a protective moat. The elderly woman stood within the flowing waters as if they were solid ground, completely immune to their memory-erasing properties.

But Meng Po had no intention of allowing her opponent time to develop countermeasures.

She raised the porcelain bowl in her hands with ceremonial precision, and a multicolored halo instantly spread across the entire battlefield. The air shimmered with rainbow light as supernatural energies sought to penetrate every corner of the combat zone.

However, absolutely nothing happened to Artoria.

"What?!" Crowley exclaimed, his voice cracking with shock and disbelief.

He stared at Artoria, who appeared completely unaffected by Meng Po's signature ability, then turned his bewildered gaze toward Azrael for some form of explanation.

Azrael naturally understood exactly what Meng Po had attempted to accomplish.

The bowl in her hands contained a legendary soup mixed from five distinct flavors, sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, and salty. But more than simple taste, each flavor corresponded to fundamental human emotions: sorrow, joy, anger, fear, and desire.

This was the famous Meng Po soup, capable of erasing memories of past lives while amplifying emotional instability in those who consumed it, or in this case, those exposed to its mystical influence.

Unfortunately for Crowley's strategy, Artoria possessed natural immunity to such manipulation.

[Journey of Flowers]: The maiden destined for kingship receives countless blessings. Allies fighting alongside her gain immunity to Silver-level and lower emotional manipulation effects.

Azrael estimated that Crowley's Meng Po likely possessed additional abilities related to memory erasure, but such effects would require direct contact rather than area influence. Otherwise, the card would be impossibly overpowered for its current tier.

Seeing that Artoria remained completely unaffected by her supernatural assault, Meng Po's ancient features hardened with something approaching annoyance.

The armored maiden before her carried a strange presence, the bearing of human royalty combined with the blood of dragon lineage. Yet her golden hair and foreign appearance marked her as something outside normal classification systems.

"Barbarian bloodlines are always so chaotic," Meng Po muttered to herself, her voice carrying the disdain of someone who had witnessed countless civilizations rise and fall.

Artoria observed the growing blood-yellow river and recognized that prolonged combat would favor her opponent's defensive advantages. Meng Po possessed overwhelming offensive and defensive capabilities, but her mobility appeared severely limited by her advanced age and ceremonial role.

In that case, decisive action represented her best path to victory.

Taking a deep breath that filled her lungs with the corrupted air of the secret realm, Artoria gripped Caliburn's hilt with both hands and raised the legendary blade above her head.

"Caliburn!"

The moment she released the true name of the Sword of Promised Victory, golden light erupted from the blade with intensity that rivaled the sun itself. The brilliant radiance pierced through the realm's perpetual gloom, creating a pillar of pure energy that seemed to connect earth and sky.

Crowley's face went white with terror as he fully grasped what was about to unfold. "Get out of the way!" he screamed desperately, though he knew his command was futile.

Azrael glanced at Crowley with dark amusement. What does he think this is, a Pokémon battle? 'Get out of the way' indeed.

The next moment, a torrent of golden destruction descended toward Meng Po like the judgment of heaven itself, carrying enough concentrated power to reshape the very landscape around them.

The legendary sword's ultimate technique had been unleashed, and not even the waters of the River Lethe could wash away what was about to unfold.