Chapter 10 - The world isn't easy
Mages and martial artists are alike, yet different.
First, a martial artist stores inner power in the dantian, and releases their strength through the Eight Meridians.
But how could building up inner power be easy?
No matter how extraordinary an inner power mental cultivation you've learned, it takes time to accumulate pure inner power in the dantian.
Even for me, who learned the peerless mental cultivation called Wireless Earthly Divine Art, it means that the inner power I can gain right away, even after circulating energy for a day or two, is negligible.
Unless you find and consume panaceas like thousand-year hasuo, seolsam, or gongcheongseogyu, or this world's panacea, 'Essence,' that is.
So, for now, I'll prioritize making a mana circuit. With just one circuit, I should be able to use even lower circle magic with ease.
For me, who had already made five mana circuits, it wasn't a difficult process.
There's no need to think about it for long.
[ Child, you will die without ever properly letting that wondrous talent bloom. ]
That talent the empire's archmage acknowledged in my past life—shouldn't I make good use of it in this world, too?
***
Mana circuit fabrication continued without pause until the next morning.
At some point.
Along with the sensation of the tightness in my chest clearing, two mana circuits—spinning in a great rotation around my heart as the central axis—began to greedily suck in the surrounding mana particles, as if announcing their birth.
"···Two?"
The absorbed mana particles flow with lofty composure, waiting only for the moment they'll be released together with the manifestation of magic.
From two mana circuits.
"I didn't expect this either."
Making the first one was something I had planned. It demands mental strength and concentration to the extreme, but since I had experience, I succeeded without much trouble.
But what was strange was that even after I had already woven one, I still had plenty of mental leeway left.
So, on a whim, I challenged myself to make a second circuit—and it settled into place surprisingly smoothly.
In the end, in a single night, I wove two rings.
Did opening my Ren and Du meridians and unlocking my upper dantian help with making a mana circuit, too?
If so, then the lost ten years did their job.
If an ordinary mage saw this, they'd probably foam at the mouth and collapse. Even the me from my past life would've foamed at the mouth, saying they were jealous.
Of course, since these are weak, early-stage circuits, they're not even close to level 4.
Anyway, to make the third mana circuit next, I'll have to use these newly formed circuits endlessly and train them into shape.
Just as a master-level blacksmith tempers a single blade thousands of times, I need to solidify the first and second circuits that will serve as the central axis, so that the mana circuits born afterward won't waver.
If the foundation isn't solid, the day will come when it twists and collapses like a sandcastle.
But, well···
In a world where there are artificial intelligences that support magic manifestation, disposable magic memory chips, high-speed magic formula computation devices, and High-concentration mana solution injector devices and the like, who would even bother caring about that?
Whatever. I should fill my stomach now.
Stretching, I roughly kicked Rudolph, who was dozing off.
"Ugh···!"
Morning in Junktown.
Compared to the night that was as dark as darkness, it had lightened slightly—now it was more like thick, heavy storm clouds.
"The weather's decent today, Brother."
It's an ordinary morning.
Days with bright sunlight don't even add up to a full week in a year, making this a world perfectly suited to depress humans.
That's why countless lights and neon signs that brighten the darkness don't turn off even in the morning.
I'll give you 10 credits, so please, just once!
Won't you stop? What a damn beggar piece of shit···no. Just die! Die!
Ugh!
On the way to eat, I ran into the same drifter I saw on the street yesterday.
What is that, some pervert NPC from a game?
It's impressive that he's still alive, begging and scraping by like that in a hopeless slum.
I walked past the guy getting beaten and moved on.
" Ttobongi's Delicious Real Burger "
The destination was a fast food place near the inn.
A hamburger ad was auto-playing on the long display sign.
Do you know the difference between the cultured-meat patties we use at " Ttobongi's Delicious Real Burger " and patties made with real meat? Hygiene? Taste? SNS vibes? Nutrition? Nope. The biggest difference is price, price! Cultured meat is cheap, so the margins are huge! That's why you can stuff your face with burgers until your belly bursts! Isn't that something to be grateful for?
For a hamburger ad, it's incredibly honest.
Bzzzt.
As the automatic door at the entrance opened.
The noisy customers went quiet for a split second, then shifted into a mood of gathering into groups and murmuring among themselves.
Their whispering—supposedly quiet—came through clearly. It was probably because last night's circuit-making made me more familiar with mana.
She's pretty.
You saw her already? She's better than that new sex toy that came into our regular pub.
The first reason for the whispering was Rena's looks.
But isn't that skinny guy next to her Harenio?
Don't look. He'll cause a scene again for no reason.
Damn, can't they just order delivery? Why crawl in here and ruin the vibe?
Hey, lower your voice.
And the second reason was that Rudolph, a member of the Harenio gang, was mixed into our group.
And maybe the third reason was—
Holy shit, what's that? Isn't that a gun?
Because I was holding a handgun.
Shouldn't we leave?
You think he'd waste expensive bullets on us? He'll quietly just clean out the counter and run.
When did I even pull this out?
Damn, I messed up out of habit.
I quickly tucked the handgun into my waistband.
"I'm not that kind of person."
After kindly clearing up the misunderstanding of the customers inside, I took a seat.
The moment I sat down, a little kid employee—who had been hiding behind the counter and watching me with suspicious eyes—came running over.
Looks like he decided I wasn't a robber.
"What're you having? You've got credits, right?"
"I've got money."
"What do you want?"
I showed him the cash I'd looted from the Harenio guys and ordered three burgers, a big portion of fries, and cola. The kid who took the order ran off to the kitchen, shouting something.
Then he ran back over here and whispered.
"Honestly, the burgers here taste really bad."
"Kid. How can a franchise burger taste bad?"
"I'm serious. This branch tastes especially bad. The customers got scammed."
"Then you should've told me sooner."
"Hey, if I do that, the boss yells at me. And that Harenio mister next to you is scary, too."
Incredible.
Is this how business works in this neighborhood?
What a fascinating sales method.
"Then go tell the guy making the burgers to come out. I'll make him a body that can never make burgers again."
"Hey~ then I'll lose my job! But if you give me just a 3-credit tip, I'll fry your burger deliciously! If you fry it, even a shoe tastes good!"
The little guy really knows how to hustle.
When he grows up, he'll be a great waiter.
"Fine. Let's do that."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Heh, thanks! I'll bring it right out."
When the kid left with a beaming smile.
Rudolph leaned in like we were close and whispered.
"Brother. These cultured-meat patties are basically rocks—no matter how you fry them, they taste bad. The fries come out like charcoal, too. You've got money, so let's just go eat somewhere else."
"My money or your money?"
"······."
"Don't eat and starve. An empty stomach in the morning is good for your health."
I shut him down cold.
How dare a mere servant.
Food's up!
The food was set down quickly. I took one burger and handed it to the kid serving us.
"Here, you eat this."
"Huh? Really?"
"Yeah. Grow up and become a good waiter."
"Thank you!"
The kid glanced awkwardly at Rudolph—the original owner of that burger—then bowed his head and left.
Sluuurp—
I grabbed the cola first and drank it down coolly.
It feels like life is returning to my exhausted body.
Rena must've been hungry too, because she said nothing and just chewed with her small mouth, eagerly devouring the golden fries.
The food was better than what Rudolph said.
"Didn't you say the fries come out like charcoal?"
"Yeah. That's weird? The fries here are usually black—why are they yellow today?"
"They probably only sold the burnt ones to you. Because they didn't want to look at you."
"······."
After a little time passed, Rena finally spoke, looking like she could breathe again, with fries' oil smeared all around her mouth.
"Levan."
"Yeah."
"I think… if things get better, it'd be good to go to Valhalla City. I don't know how long it'll take, but······."
Valhalla City, where van Rubenka is.
It's the city where Rena's only family is.
"So, Levan. You know private carrier tickets to another city cost over 50,000 credits per person, right? From now on, we should save as much as possible—even on food."
"Mm."
At those words, I looked at the table.
Only a few shriveled fries were left rolling around on the tray.
Someone had left their own burger untouched, yet swept away the communal fries first.
So that's why she suddenly said that.
When I stared at Rena, she lowered her head, embarrassed.
"Today I was just really hungry···."
Well, that happens.
"But Rena, even if we have the money, we won't be able to ride a carrier. The moment you show up at the platform, either BCPD will arrest you or the Tang Family will make a move."
"Still, we have to save credits just in case. Something might come up. So, Levan—do you have any money saved?"
"For stock trading?"
"I'm confident in securities."
She meant the federal Stock Exchange.
A securities market where people buy and sell each company's stock.
Rena even handled asset management for van Bio Company. I remember she made sizable profits—her ability was strangely outstanding for her age.
The biggest portion of that profit came from stock investment.
Making profits in a securities market where AI traders, huge corporations, asset managers with enormous capital, and program merchant magnates run wild—this isn't something easy like it sounds.
She's fought with credits instead of bullets in that market for years, so her sense for smelling money should be excellent.
Honestly, if we sold just the box of the High-concentration mana solution injector I took from Rubenka's office, we'd get the ticket price immediately. Not that we can ride it anyway.
I casually tested the waters with Rena.
"How much initial capital do you need?"
"No matter what, I need at least 10,000 credits. Levan, you must have some emergency cash—so we open an account with that first, and then······."
"I already spent it all."
"Levan, is this the time to joke?"
"I'm serious. The new servant starving next to you took 5,000 credits from me."
"······ah. You said you paid an entrance fee."
"Yeah."
"······."
At that, Rudolph—who'd been staring at the fries—bowed his head like a great sinner.
"And you still try to eat a burger? You're not just shameless—you're a special kind of shameless bastard. I should've taught you shame before teaching you tact."
At my words, Rena let out a small sigh.
After an awkward silence, I spoke again.
"There's money we're going to collect today. About 10,000 credits should be easy. But there's one condition."
"···?"
Rena's eyes gleamed, puzzled.
Right now, there's something more important than going to Valhalla, more important than saving emergency money.
The energy that will stabilize my body and raise my realm quickly.
"As soon as the credits come in, we'll get Essence first."
— Essence
A hundred years ago, humanity discovered an extremely tiny trace of something in the blood of living corpses. Something that concentrates and holds mana particles—that is, Qi. That discovery is what we now call Essence.
In other words, it's a 'panacea'.
For a martial artist, it's strength.
For a mage, it's magic power.
For an ordinary person with absolutely nothing, it's health.
The longer an individual has survived, or the stronger their power and abilities, the higher the quality of Essence their blood contains.
It's no wonder people say that Essence of upper-grade or above is worth whatever price someone asks.
As soon as the substitute panacea called Essence was discovered, professional corpse-hunting groups and corporate Essence supply departments sprang up like mushrooms after rain—enough said.
However.
Hunting zombies yourself and drawing Essence carries an insanely high risk.
Even a legendary level 9 powerhouse can get their throat torn out by a zombie that sneaks into the city, and you want to hunt zombies outside the walls, where those monsters are everywhere? At my current level, that's absolutely impossible.
I know my situation fairly well.
I've lived through five past lives, but at my current level, beating up back-alley punks is my limit. Outside the walls is where even upper levels die in droves.
Either way.
A third-rate martial artist and a Second Circle mage.
My mental achievement may be high, but my realm is low.
If I borrow the power of modern guns and technology, things might change a bit, but by my own assessment, I'm around a solid level 3.
That's why I desperately need Essence.
In a slum this huge, there's bound to be at least one broker who trades with corpse hunters, or someone connected to that line.
"So the priority is Essence. Credits are······."
That was when it happened.
A dark shadow fell across my vision.
——Bang!
"?"
Rudolph's head slammed into the table. When I raised my head, I saw guys pressing Rudolph's face down, cackling.
A tacky red rose tattoo behind the ear.
Ah, Harenio.
"Vance. You stupid bastard. If you were going to end up like this anyway, why'd you run? You should've just died there with them."
As one guy started sneering, several voices mixed in behind him, cursing Rudolph.
"What the hell is that bastard doing eating with those guys? Is he out of his mind?"
"Look at him. Looks like he got beat to hell."
"Idiot. That's what you get."
Eyes inside the store quietly turned.
Then the customers—who had been watching the mood—started filing out like a receding tide, as if this was familiar.
Before I knew it, a dozen or so punks filled the store. Each one has that red rose tattoo on their filthy body.
"Mm······."
The Harenio gang.
I didn't expect to run into them this fast.
For a gang, they're busy early in the morning.
'That mage is probably the snake-eyed one hanging back there.'
Even if you go to the business district, level 4s are common enough to trip over, but you have to consider that this Junktown is a bottom-tier slum.
At that level, he's probably one of the strongest in the whole town.
"If it were me, I'd have started shooting the moment I walked in. You're all very polite."
While I was grumbling and sizing up the situation, a hulking guy—who clearly screamed I'm the gang boss!—stomped over and asked.
"Hey. Does that burger even go down your throat?"
Eyes half mixed with killing intent and half with madness.
I denied it for now.
"It's a misunderstanding. I didn't kill them."
"Bullshit."
"That red-nosed Rudolph did it."
"Shut your mouth. We already know everything."
"I see."
So you already know everything.
I gave up on denying it.
Belatedly, I greeted them warmly.
"Did you come to eat burgers too? The fries are good today."
Bang!
A fist made of steel and plastic smashed the table. Old-generation cyberware for physical enhancement.
"······One question. What were you thinking, doing that? I want to hear your reason."
"They did something that deserved death."
"You'd better answer nicely."
"It's not like I did something I couldn't do. Why are you all like this? Let's be men and forget it. We can make up, right?"
"Make up? Did you just say make up?"
Whoosh—
The hulking guy's fist swings down over my head.
In an instant, I snatched his wrist and pulled out my dagger, stabbing downward.
Ting!
"······."
But.
The dagger's tip bent.
Beneath the boss's outer clothes that split open, metal flesh that had been hidden was revealed.
He sneered.
"You're doing something very interesting."
Then I have no choice.
I immediately bowed my head and apologized.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I'm going to do it too."
Thud—
The gang boss snorted and planted his hand squarely on my shoulder.
My shoulder bones creaked under the strong grip.
Lowering my head, I flashed a brief eye-smile at the startled Rena in front of me.
"Hey. You think if you're a martial artist you can do whatever the hell you want? Because this is Junktown full of nothing but worms, you thought it'd be easy? The dead guys are raising hell in hell, begging for you to be sent down too."
Crack—
His grip grows stronger.
Tap. Tap.
I clicked the finger parts gripping my shoulder and sighed inwardly.
It's nice that I've gotten more popular than when I was a servant, but why do stinking guys like these have to swarm me? A brute reeking of rust babbling beside me while I'm eating.
"Did I get stuck with some kind of peach-blossom misfortune···."
The lower dantian, writhing roughly.
Scrrrk.
Kicking away the chair, I rose and reached for the straight sword at my waist. First I'll slice off this brute's arm, and then that annoying snake-eye······.
Clack.
"?"
What?
The strength that had been writhing violently just moments ago suddenly doesn't move at all.
The lower dantian, gone still like the surface of a lake.
Staring blankly for a moment, turning the situation over in my head, I···
First, I set the fallen chair upright and calmly sat back down.
"Shouldn't we call it a draw?"
The world is really not easy.