With an empty metaphorical wallet, a visit to the bank was the clear logical first task to handle when lost in a foreign land. Money solved all sorts of problems – namely food, water, and shelter.
Though did he even need to eat, drink, and sleep anymore? He was in the body of a mythical figure, and one pulled from a video game. It wasn't like Chronicles of the Seven Heaven-Tribulations had a sleep resource. Even food and drink were only for receiving beneficial statuses.
In any case, he wanted to know if he had access to his personal vault. In the game, he had been able to access both his money and several pages of item stashes through the bank system.
But as he'd seen, this world wasn't one-to-one. And it had been a hundred years. He wouldn't be surprised if his bank account had been closed by sheer dint of time.
There was only one way to find out.
"Next," Cyrus called, sparing a glance at the timekeeper on the wall.
Two more hours to lunch. He'd had to skip breakfast, and he was feeling a bit ornery because of it, not that he'd let it show in his interactions with the customers today. This job was by far the most comfortable he'd had in a decade, and he had no intention of jeopardizing it. He could never know who exactly was stepping up to make a withdrawal, and all it took was annoying the wrong person to find himself in a world of trouble. He'd heard all sorts of horror stories over the years.
A young man was the next to step up to his counter.
Er, maybe not a man? A boy? He wasn't certain. He was an Abyssal Celestial Sovereign, and he knew those, like elves, aged differently from humans. They often seemed youthful when they were anything but. Centuries-old elders could be indistinguishable from adolescents. That said, this one did seem rather young.
He was dressed like a scholar or adventurer, in a thick black robe that went to the floor. He was paler than most Abyssal Celestial Sovereigns, with curling celestial horns and straight white hair.
He seemed to carry himself like an adult at least. His crimson eyes were calm and assured, his expression relaxed but not in a way that put him at ease. In fact, there was a general aura about him that gave him pause the longer he looked.
He still wasn't certain whether he was a child, but he'd spent enough time working service jobs that he'd learned not to make assumptions. A certain incident with a mother and what he had been certain was her son haunted him.
"How can I help you, young master?" he asked with the same level of professionalism he offered any customer.
"I'd like to make a withdrawal." His voice was flat, bored, and the tone erased most of his doubts. If this was a child, it was a strange one. He felt his spine straighten.
"Of course." He'd gone through this process a million times, so he reached under his desk and set the identifier in front of him before he consciously ordered his hands. "Please place your finger on the account identifier."
The man eyed the device.
"You do have an account with us, yes?" Cyrus asked.
"…Maybe?" he replied.
"Maybe?"
"I do most of my business in Tianwu Capital," he said slowly. "Are the accounts linked?"
Tianwu Capital? He was a long way from home. He had to bite his tongue and repress his dubious tone.
"Yes, young master. The unified banking system is over three hundred years old and spans the entirety of the continent. Unless you've been banking with an unusual," illegal, he didn't say, "third party, if you have an account anywhere in the Kingdoms, you'll be able to access it here."
"I see." He almost seemed like he was going to ask another question, but decided against it. He hovered his pointer finger above the small slate carved with runes, hesitated a second longer as if debating whether he should, and finally pressed it against the stone.
He'd honestly thought the projection screen that appeared would indicate he didn't have an account. His lack of familiarity with the system had once again changed his mind about whether he was dealing with an adult.
But a valid account popped up, mildly to his surprise, and it was filled with the usual sparse details: name, balance available for withdrawal, and a 'notes' section for any highly relevant details that a teller might need.
Usually he read the customer's name first to know who he was dealing with. But in ninety-nine percent of cases the 'notes' section was blank. So when there was text, his eyes fell there first.
"Presumed deceased. Account locked, but preserved for historical purposes."
He blinked.
That was strange. Very strange. He supposed he would have to submit a status update. Whoever this was, he wasn't dead.
He'd never filed an account update form. He would need to ask for help.
His eyes drifted upward, curious about his name, but they froze on the account balance.
He blinked a second time. Then a third and a fourth. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on, and leaned forward with a scrunched brow to squint at the numbers on the projection to make absolutely certain he wasn't imagining what he saw.
"Available Balance
Copper: 62,242
Profound Iron: 258,550
Mythril: 33,239
Saint: 8,812
Celestial: 2,168
Heavenly Void Jade: 128
(Unified Spirit Jade Tokens: 49,263,642)"
He briefly lost all capability of reasoning. Ten seconds passed as he stared.
Was it broken somehow? The banking system couldn't be broken; it was impossible.
But one hundred and twenty-eight Heavenly Void Jade? Kings struggled to find Heavenly Void Jade in smaller quantities. He had never seen the Heavenly Void Jade field on a customer's account display anything but zero. The wealthiest clients he'd interacted with might have a scant amount of Celestial registered, but not a huge sum.
Not two thousand of it.
A meal might be a few copper. A night at a nice inn, private room, a Profound Iron. A well-bred war-dragon, the sort upper-tier adventurers or nobility would ride into battle, fifty to a hundred Mythril.
Coinage went up in one to ten ratios. That meant a Saint was ten Mythril. Celestial a hundred. Heavenly Void Jade a thousand.
A small stack of Heavenly Void Jade could buy a damn immortal sect somewhere. It was the equivalent of thousands of Mythril.
Almost dizzily, his eyes drifted to the top of the projection.
"Ling Xiao"
Then they slid back to the man in front of his counter. His crimson gaze was watching him warily, clearly reading his reaction.
"Is there an issue?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Okay. This wasn't actually Ling Xiao. The idea brushed his mind for the briefest moment, but it was too absurd.
Nevertheless, he'd fooled the identifier. That was nearly more concerning than the Heavenly Sovereign actually reemerging into the world. The banking system was supposed to be impregnable. There had never been an instance of abuse or exploit. It was part of the Grand System itself. Not created by mortal hands, but the heavens.
It couldn't be tricked.
Yet it had. Because this wasn't Ling Xiao.
Most blatant piece of evidence: he was way too short.
If this young man had found a way to trick the banking system, why in the world would he expose himself this way? He could have pretended to be anyone, barring a handful of individuals, and he wouldn't have thought twice. Because the system was infallible.
Sure, the account he'd gone after had a truly absurd sum in it, but he couldn't pay it out if he wanted to. There weren't coin reserves in the city to withdraw that balance. Certainly not enough Heavenly Void Jade. The High King's vault itself surely didn't have more than a few hundred coins of that precious material. And if he wanted to scam a smaller sum, why use this account?
Was he not very intelligent? Ambitious to the point of foolhardiness? He supposed stories were full of that sort of thing. Idiocy was hardly rare, from highest station to low.
He must have lucked into the exploit.
He really was a child.
But what did he do now?
This was big. Outrageously so. The sort of thing he would be dealing with for weeks, in meetings with very important people he would need to tiptoe around. His day had suddenly gotten complicated. He felt a headache coming on.
He'd already been in a poor mood from missing breakfast.
His thoughts racing, he came to a decision.
"I'm sorry, young master," he said. "I'm afraid you don't have an account with us. Could you step aside, and we'll get you set up?"
He was taking a risk, but management would have his head if he didn't try to detain him until he could call the guards.
"It said my name, didn't it?" he asked flatly. He sighed. "Just... I don't need much. Give me a hundred of each, up to Celestial. It didn't use to go through people, why are there tellers now? When did that change?"
He was doubling down. An interesting gambit, certainly. "I'm not sure what you mean, young master." He put on his best blank face. His acting wasn't horrible, seeing how he spent all day dealing with unpleasant folk.
He didn't comment on the absurdity of 'one hundred of each, up to Celestial.' As if that alone wasn't a sum to make a king choke.
The Abyssal Celestial Sovereign pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming irritated. "This was a mistake."
He agreed. Really, what had he expected?
"Don't report me to the guards," he said. "Or anyone else. That would be…annoying."
He paused. It was an audacious approach, just asking. But since he had no idea whether this man was a high-level adventurer or similar, he wasn't going to antagonize him.
"Of course, young master. I won't say a thing." Obviously, he had no hope of detaining him anymore. He knew what was going on. He wasn't going to insist at risk to himself. He enjoyed his job, but he enjoyed his life more. So he would report him after he left.
He stared at him. He supposed he hadn't been convincing.
"It is me, you know," he said slowly. "You don't think so, do you?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," he said, lacking a more graceful option.
He stared for another several seconds, and Cyrus shifted uncomfortably.
"I need to prove it, don't I?" he said. "You'll let me go if I do? With some Spirit Jade Tokens?"
"The account is locked regardless," he said, since there wasn't a point in feigning cluelessness anymore. "I don't want any trouble, young master, truly. I'll forget this ever happened."
He was lying. An exploit like this threatened the fabric of society. If he couldn't trust the banking system, what could he? He would report this event as soon as it was safe and feasible to do so.
"Fine," he sighed. "I have to prove it."
He grew worried all at once, but he didn't have time to react before he felt that strange warble in the air that came with spellcasting.
Of the various classes, mage-types were the least common. Like most people, he'd given adventuring a try in his youth. Hadn't been for him, as it wasn't for most. But he'd been around enough magic to recognize that metallic tang in his mouth.
"[Celestial Veil Shroud]."
"[Farsight]."
"[Fly]."
"[Voidtrace Step]."
The spells happened so fast he barely processed what was happening. One after another quicker than any mage should be capable of. Not that he'd been around high-rank adventurers often. Saint-ranks, on rare occasions.
But spells should have cast times. It was a mage's fundamental weakness, what made them useful but specialized additions to a party. He activated them as fast as he could speak. Faster. It didn't make sense.
And then he was floating two thousand feet in the air.
"Look," he said, gesturing down at the city of Xuanhai Imperial City with a gnarled staff of gray wood. His appearance had changed. The Abyssal Celestial Sovereign had crimson celestial runes running down his cheeks: the iconic mark of the Heavenly Sovereign. His robes were no longer black; swirling purple designs covered them. "Is this enough proof?"
Cyrus considered himself a well-composed person. But this was too much. His mouth opened and closed like a fish's.
He sighed. "Not high enough tier magic? Fine. [Voidtrace Step]. [Voidtrace Step]. [Voidtrace Step]. [Voidtrace Step]. [Detect Presence]."
And then they were hovering a thousand feet over the wilderness, the urban expanse of Xuanhai Imperial City no longer visible, only endless jade forest, the snow-capped mountains many miles away.
The Abyssal Celestial Sovereign pointed his staff down toward the forest. He felt magic gather. Real magic, though what he'd already experienced eclipsed anything he'd ever seen or felt. Teleportation was already the domain of Saint-rank adventurers at least. He wasn't even certain of that. It might be much higher. It was so high rank he simply didn't know.
Whatever spell he was forming, it didn't just put a metallic taste in his mouth. It wobbled the jelly in his eyes; his throat closed; a dull pressure ached in his skull, growing by the second.
He felt very, very small all of a sudden. A glowing magical circle inscribed with the densest, brightest runes he'd ever seen formed in front of him. He could practically taste the magic it radiated.
What would happen when that monstrosity of a spell finished?
Just what in the heavens was he casting?
The spell named itself more than he named it. It fell from his lips with enough power to make a dragon tuck its tail and flee.
"[Nine Yang Heaven-Scorching Inferno]."
The heavens split. A column of white fire descended. It impacted the ground and disintegrated everything in a quarter-mile radius. The heat washed across him despite the great distance. He covered his eyes with one hand, else he might have been blinded.
When the spell finished running its course, there was nothing remaining besides earth turned to glass.
He stared dumbly.
What…what tier spell had that been?
He couldn't comprehend what he'd seen. Floating in the air was surreal enough. Flight was already a rare enough spell he'd have been cowed.
That…whatever it had been…was too much. His brain simply stopped working.
"See? It's me," the Abyssal Celestial Sovereign said, still sounding mildly annoyed, as if he was dealing with a somewhat irritating haggling process, and hadn't just evaporated a swath of wilderness by whim. "But I'm here on private business, don't report me to the guards. Now, how do I unlock my account?"