Strongest Frog Summon
Chapter 23- Fire Power

Chapter 23: Chapter 23- Fire Power

"You know the drill, and so do I," Yuuta muttered to himself, eyes already sliding toward the leftmost card like a gambling addict spotting a familiar slot machine.

Just like always, he started from the left. And just like always, what greeted him made him lose all sense of dignity—if he even had any left.

The moment he laid eyes on the drawing of a swirling ball of magical chaos, his whole ugly frog face lit up.

"FUCK yes!" Yuuta bellowed, leaping into the air like a jacked-up spring, his slimy frog tongue lashing out and whipping around like an idiot’s party streamer.

He landed with a little bounce and rubbed his green hands together like a scheming villain. The card floated serenely before him, displaying its description in crisp, glowing script:

[MAGIC MISSILE]

____________________________________

[Explosive ball of magical energy.]

[Upon impact, detonates in an 8-meter radius.]

[Cooldown: 3 seconds.]

[Current Upgrades: +15% Explosion Damage, +15% Burn Damage.]

[Star Rank: ★★---]

___________________________________

Yuuta practically drooled. "We meet again, old friend," he croaked in a greasy whisper, like a divorced man reuniting with his favorite snack food. "And you’re lookin’ even sexier with those two stars."

His fingers twitched as if he wanted to stroke the card’s glowing edges. His mind raced with vivid images—pigs exploding in a beautiful orchestra of screams, fire, and bacon bits. Eight-meter wide craters, pigs running around while on fire, maybe even the occasional fireball to the face for dramatic flair.

He nodded seriously. "Descent enough," he muttered, mispronouncing it in his excitement. "This’ll turn those pork bitches into charcoal with a side of regret."

He spent a few extra seconds ogling the floating card, whispering unspeakable sweet nothings to it, before finally pulling his attention away with visible reluctance.

"Alright, alright... let’s see what the middle one is."

Still grinning like a moron, Yuuta turned his wide eyes toward the second card. The moment he saw it, his grin twitched—less maniacal now, more... curious.

The card had the drawing of a solid white torso, stiff and unyielding, with a sword bouncing off of it like a toy stick hitting concrete.

[BODY HARDENING]

______________________________________

[Hardens the body of the host.]

[Passive Skill]

[Hardness Level: 1 (+150% of the current host physique)]

[No Current Upgrades]

[Star Rank: -----]

_____________________________________

Yuuta tilted his head. "Huh... A new one."

It looked solid. Passive skill. Always on. And that description? That sounded like the kind of skill that’d turn someone into a walking tank. No cast time, no cooldown, just raw defense.

"Shit, this looks like Barrier’s big buff cousin," he muttered.

But then... his frog brain kicked in. The phrase ’based on the current host’s physique’ kept echoing in his head like a damn red flag.

"Wait a fucking second."

He raised his thin, green right arm into view and flexed dramatically. Or at least, he tried. There were no muscles. Just a wobbly, soft limb that looked like it belonged to a half-inflated balloon animal.

He poked it.

Squelch.

Soft. Squishy. Pathetic.

Yuuta’s wide eyes narrowed into slits as he looked back at the Body Hardening card like it personally insulted his manhood.

"This..." he whispered coldly, "...is absolute dogshit on me right now."

The reality hit him like a ton of bricks made of self-loathing. "I’m a fucking squish-ball with legs. What the fuck’s +150% of frog pudding?! A slightly firmer pudding?!"

He stared at the card with rising contempt.

But just as he was about to dismiss it completely, one cursed word stood out in his mind:

"Hardening."

Yuuta blinked. His throat clicked. His gaze slowly drifted down his body, settling on that eternally empty void between his frog legs.

The silence was deafening.

Then came the scream: "FUCK!"

He stomped his three-toed foot into the dirt like a toddler denied candy.

"If I had my fucking dick, this card would’ve been an absolute dragon-tier spell in the bedroom!" he wailed. "I’d be the legend! The walking tower of power!"

He stared up at the sky and cursed fate. "You took my meat stick and now you taunt me with hardening magic?! This is psychological warfare!"

He turned back to the card, pointing at it like it owed him child support. "You hear me?! I don’t need you! Not until I get my damn rod back!"

But even through the rage and pettiness, Yuuta felt that slight tug of hope—the delusional whisper of "someday" echoing in the back of his slimy head.

"When I reach the pinnacle... when I become the ultimate spell-flinging mage king..." he murmured to himself, hand over his nonexistent heart, "I’ll find a way. Magic, science, arcane bullshit—I don’t care. One day... I’ll bring back the frog rod."

He sniffled once. Emotion? Maybe. Delirium? Most likely.

Still, he wasn’t deterred... Maybe... His pride was cracked but not shattered. He was still Yuuta—the dickless, determined, damn-near-invincible frog with a dream.

After a few more seconds of sulking over the middle card and all its tantalizing-yet-unusable "hardening" potential, Yuuta finally pulled his gaze toward the last card. He braced himself—partly out of habit, partly because he knew that one of these damn cards was always cursed to piss him off.

And, like clockwork, it did.

The drawing was all-too-familiar. A jagged lightning bolt cracking down from a cartoonish cloud, striking the ground like it had a personal vendetta. Yuuta didn’t even need to read the name.

[LIGHTNING STRUCK]

Yuuta’s left eye twitched. He gritted his frog teeth. "Fucking persistent piece of cardboard," he muttered under his breath. "This is, what? The fifth time you showed up? Shit, at this point, I’m starting to think this card’s stalking me."

But he didn’t explode in rage. Not this time.

No—he was in too good a mood for that. Magic Missile had already swept him off his slimy little feet. So instead of cursing further, Yuuta just waved the damn lightning card off like a man swatting a mosquito.

"Not today, bitch. Go shock someone else."

He turned his attention back to his prize—the real MVP of this spell draft—and practically skipped toward it like a fat kid running to free samples. His ugly frog face was plastered with manic glee, his jaw slack and slightly drooling, his eyes wide and bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in years. The kind of excitement that made you look insane and possibly contagious.

"This is it... the boomstick is back."

Yuuta’s right hand reached out, trembling slightly from the sheer excitement, and the moment his fingers brushed the card, the other two reacted violently. The cards to the right and left twisted inward on themselves, reality warping into little vortexes that sucked them out of existence like they were never supposed to be there.

Only the Magic Missile card remained, hovering gracefully, glowing with arrogant power.

It drifted forward and tapped Yuuta gently on the temple.

BOOM— not an actual explosion, but the satisfying, glittery kind. The card burst into dazzling sparkles that rained down like a magical sneeze from a rich wizard. Yuuta let out a dreamy exhale and whispered:

"I’ll never get tired of that."

And just like that, the grayscale world snapped back into color. Time resumed its flow. The sound of distant wind returned, and dust swirled in lazy patterns around Yuuta’s webbed feet.

Without a word, he raised his right hand. His fingers spread apart instinctively, and in the next second—fwomp—a small, white sphere appeared above his palm. It hovered perfectly still, humming softly like a small engine. Not loud, but there was weight in the sound. Power.

The magic missile was different now.

Smaller, tighter. It didn’t burn with chaotic fire like before. It glowed with a focused, dangerous intensity—like a grenade trying to be polite. The air around it shimmered faintly, distorting from sheer magical pressure.

"...oh," Yuuta breathed, eyes wide. "You got an upgrade, huh?"

He tilted his head, inspecting it. "Smaller body, tighter core, that weird whistle-hum noise... fuck me, this is an actual proper spell now."

A grin carved its way across his face. His mouth stretched so wide it looked like a grotesque anime parody—like if a frog tried to cosplay as a Pez dispenser and halfway succeeded.

Yuuta snorted, holding in a mad cackle. "Time to test this sexy bitch out."

Without another word, he jerked his arm toward a nearby cliff wall. The missile didn’t wait—it tore forward like a bullet screaming through time, ripping the air apart with a high-pitched whiiiIIIIIST.

Then—

BOOM.

The explosion that followed didn’t just echo through the canyon—it shook it. A cloud of debris erupted from the point of impact, cascading like a dusty waterfall. Stone shards flew everywhere like shrapnel.

But the real kicker?

A whole portion of the cliffside crumbled. Not just cracked—collapsed.

It folded in on itself in slow, graceful destruction, like some professionally planned demolition. One moment it was there. The next, it was a memory.

Yuuta stared, stunned.

His eyes bugged out so far they looked like they might fly off his damn face. "WHAT THE FUCK—?!"

He flailed backward in surprise, landing on his ass with a puff of dust. "That was just one shot!"

His jaw flapped uselessly for a second as the shock set in. "One fucking missile! That’s not a fireball anymore, that’s a fuck-you bomb!"

Yuuta sat there in stunned silence for a second longer, the wind howling softly around him, the dust cloud finally beginning to settle.

And then...

He jumped up.

He bounced in place like a little kid who just got an extra dessert. "YES! Yesyesyesyes—FUCK YES!"

He twirled around like a ballerina on speed. "Eat shit, pork faces! I’ve got my fucking artillery upgraded!"

It was hard to say what looked worse—Yuuta’s ecstatic frog dance, or the shit-eating grin he wore while doing it.

"If this is what a 2-star Magic Missile can do," he cackled, "then three stars is probably enough to turn a fortress into a puddle!"

He could already imagine it. Pigs flying in all directions, screaming, catching fire, tripping over their own guts. That massive twelve-story pig bastard? One missile to the jaw, one to the crotch, and he’d be begging for reincarnation.

Yuuta’s grin widened somehow.

"And now," he said, licking his froggy lips, "I’ve got that and my shiny new barrier. Offense, defense—I’m practically fucking invincible."

He flexed again, muscles still nonexistent, but spirit higher than a cracked-out squirrel.

"I’m gonna rise to the top of this damn world... and maybe, maybe one day, I’ll get my dick back too."