My Card Has No Number

They say Blue Star's rules are fair. Everyone awakens a card when they turn eighteen. The smaller the number, the more valuable your life is; the larger the number, the more you are an ant. What I awakened was appraisal card No. 899, A piece of waste that could only see the durability of an item. I resigned myself to my fate. I thought that as long as I followed my senior sister and quietly acted as a dragster, I would be able to live peacefully in this life. Until the day of the competition, I was holding a bowl of her favorite beef noodles and watched her being chopped in half by the scimitar of No. 94 On the ring. Everyone around her was laughing, laughing at her for not overestimating her abilities and laughing at me for not having my meal ticket. I didn't cry or shout. I just squatted in a pool of blood and picked up her blackened card that was completely rotten and stained with death. At that moment, my number 899 changed. The world in my eyes has changed. Not only can I identify flaws in high-level cards. I can also put the dead man's cards together into my illustrated book. Later, someone asked me why I had to drag a knife and kill the superior plutocrats and arrogant geniuses one by one. I lowered my head and wiped the blood from my hands. "I just think the rules of this world are a little broken."