The sun had slowly risen over District 9, casting long shadows across the beds everyone was sleeping in.
Julien woke up not to the sweet sound of birds but to the groans of the injured and the smell of unwashed, dirty bodies from near cots.
'Fuck this life.'
His right arm was still a useless dead weight at his side, a constant reminder of his debt due.
"Status window."
[Debt Alert] Total Due: 532.4 Credits.
Time Remaining: 14 Hours, 12 Minutes.
The interest was compounding faster than he had calculated. He needed to find a way to pay it back quickly.
Jullien dragged himself out of bed, his stomach making a growling sound in hunger. He ignored the ration bar the officer had given him; it tasted like shit and sadness. His mind only focused on how to execute the plan well today.
'Where do I sell these?'
The obvious answer was the Guilds. The 'Lion Kings' or the 'Lotus' were the most popular ones. They had so much money to burn for necessary potions and weapons. Their motto is to buy the potions in bulk.
Julien pictured himself walking into the Lotus headquarters.
"Hello, sir, I am an unregistered F-rank refugee with no medical or potion license, no special background, and I have a magical inventory that produces SSS-grade items from thin air. Would you be interested in buying my stock?"
He snorted at the pitch.
'They wouldn't buy from him. They would buy him.'
He would be locked inside a basement, his brain taken out, forcing him to live as a debtor for the rest of his life.
"No Guilds," he muttered, grabbing his coat. "And no official shops. They check IDs and tax records. I can't explain this to them."
He needed someone desperate and reckless. And most importantly, someone who didn't ask questions.
He needed testers.
Two hours later, Julien stood on the outskirts of the "Hoven."
The Hoven was the chaotic buffer zone surrounding the E-Rank Gate known as The Rotting Space. Unlike the safe, corporate-controlled A-Rank gates downtown, this place looked like a circus.
Makeshift stalls sold rusted weapons at a price even S-rank hunters wouldn't pay.
Healers charged extortionate rates for basic spells. And everywhere, "Raid Teams", ragtag groups of testers hoping to make it rich, were searching for supplies.
Julien pulled his hoodie up. He looked just like them, which made him feel kinda sad.
Perfect camouflage.
'Not my proudest moment.'
He found a spot near the extraction point, the area where hunters exited the gate. He leaned against a crumbling brick wall, watching the teams stumble out.
'Trying to hit the mysterious drug dealer pose.'
Most of the hunters who exited were fine, carrying the spoils straight to the guild.
Julien wasn't interested in them. He was looking for the miserable people.
"Help! We need a medic!"
A shout could be heard through the noise.
A team of three ran out from the shimmering blue portal. They weren't cheering. All three were dragging a fourth man, a guy in steel armour whose leg was a mess of torn meat and blood.
"He's bleeding out! Get a healer!" one of them screamed, his face pale.
The crowd parted, but nobody moved to help.
A woman in white robes, a tester healer, stepped forward, her expression bored.
"Restoration is five thousand dollars. You need to pay upfront. Or give me two E-Rank cores."
"Five thousand?" the leader of the group yelled. "We didn't clear the dungeon! We don't have that kind of cash on us! Help him first, we'll pay you later!"
The healer crossed her arms. "No service without money. The guild rules were clearly explained in the office. You know how it goes, boys."
The injured man on the ground groaned, his face turning grey. "Mike... it hurts..."
The leader, Mike, looked around wildly. "Please! Someone! I have a dagger! It's worth three grand! Take it!"
The healer shook her head. "Cash or Cores. I don't run a charity or pawn shop."
Julien pushed off the wall, moving toward the crowd.
Target acquired.
His heart started beating fast.
He checked his inventory before reaching them.
[Basic Health Potion (Low Grade)]
Wholesale Cost: 10 Credits.
He didn't have 10 credits. But he had credit with the System to borrow.
"System," he whispered. "Purchase one potion from the menu. Add it to the debt."
[Transaction Authorised.]
[Debt Increased: 542.4 Credits.]
A small, round glass bottle appeared in his hand. The liquid inside was glowing red, far brighter and purer than the murky sludge usually sold in these markets.
Julien took a deep breath.
It's time to make use of that useless skill.
He walked straight through the circle of onlookers.
"I'll take the dagger," Julien said, his voice cutting through the panic.
Mike looked around, eyes flashing with anger. He saw a skinny kid with a broken arm and a dusty hoodie. "Who the hell are you?"
"Someone who can save your friend's leg," Julien said calmly. He held up the bottle.
The sunlight caught the red liquid, making it glow like a ruby. "Instant restoration and tissue knit. It's a high-grade spell."
The Healer narrowed her eyes. "That's not a standard guild potion. It doesn't even have a label. It's probably some sewage water mixed with colored powder."
"He's dying," Julien said, looking Mike dead in the eye. "And she won't help you. Do you want to debate standard regulations, or do you want him to walk again?"
"Think about the happy times you spent inside the dungeon."
'If you have any.'
Mike looked at his friend, who was now shaking slightly. Then he looked at the healer, who remained unfazed by everything.
"If this is poison, I'll kill you," Mike shouted. He ripped the dagger from his belt—a steel blade that hummed with faint mana—and shoved it into Julien's hands.
"Deal," Julien said.
He tossed the bottle to Mike.
Mike opened it quickly.
A sweet, herbal scent spread out, smelling of life and concentrated mana. Even the healer was shocked by the quality.
Mike poured the liquid over his friend's damaged leg, praying to the gods.
'I was praying inside my mind too. Please work. Don't let me get my ass kicked on my first gig.'
His leg started glowing for a moment, then stopped.
The bleeding stopped flowing as if a tap had been turned off. Smoke rose from the wound as the flesh visibly knit and stitched itself back together. Within ten seconds, the wound was a sharp red scar.
And in twenty seconds, the flesh returned to normal.
The injured man gasped, his eyes snapping open. "The pain... It's gone."
Silence fell over the crowd.
The freelance Healer's jaw dropped. "That... that speed. That's at least a C-Grade potion. That's worth ten grand!"
Julien didn't wait for the applause.
"Pleasure doing business," Julien said.
He turned and walked away, his heart trying to beat its way out of his throat. He felt the eyes of the crowd on his back, some greedy, some curious about the origin of the potion. He needed to disappear.
Julien ducked into a narrow alleyway, weaving through every corner until he was sure he wasn't being followed.
He leaned against a dumpster, gasping for air.
"System. Appraise Item."
[Item: Steel Fang Dagger (Grade: F+)]
[Condition: Worn.]
[Market Value: 30 Credits.]
"Thirty?" Julien's face showed disappointment. "That's it? I increased my debt by 10 to get 30? That's a twenty credit profit. I need five hundred."
It wasn't enough. At this rate, he'd have to sell more potions to balance out.
[System Alert: Sale Complete.]
[First Transaction Bonus Applied.]
[Commission Protocol Activated.]
Julien blinked. "Commission?"
[Customer 'Mike' (Class: Fighter) Analysis Complete.]
[Select one skill to copy:]
[Faint Slash (Active)]: Imbue weapon with weak mana for 110% damage.
[Grit (Passive)]: Increased resistance to pain.
[Streetwise (Passive)]: Instinct for danger in urban environments.
Julien stared at the options, dumbfounded.
'This is incredible.'
Streetwise.