Chapter 390
Chapter 390
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 390
Chapter Title: Colors from Space
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After trekking for quite a while, they finally reached an area devoid of people.
Winia pulled out the map and explained that since the meteorites had scattered across this vicinity upon falling, the odds of finding one were about the same no matter where they searched.
Even if they'd concentrated in certain spots, meteorites exploded in midair anyway, spraying fragments in every direction. The spread could span dozens of kilometers.
This whole region was essentially a potential meteorite hotspot.
"Alright, let's get searching."
Time to get to work.
The key to meteorite hunting was spotting scorch marks on trees, craters in the ground, or chunks of blackened rock.
Meteorites had definitely fallen here, so tiny fragments were bound to be littered around.
With a fall from the sky, they had to think in terms of dozens of kilometers.
Given how many people had swarmed the area, plenty must have been found already. Not all were valuable, of course, but that's the nature of striking it rich.
No rain lately, and the ground was firm, so any impact sites would stand out. The thick underbrush was a hassle, but Kim Katt had faith luck would come their way.
"Meteoric iron isn't pure rare metal. It's usually mixed with all sorts of minerals."
Winia rummaged through her backpack as she spoke.
"You have to refine it and remove the impurities before it counts as true meteoric iron."
"So how do we...?"
"We use this magnet for detection."
She fished a magnet plate from her bag and handed it over.
Of course. Attach it to a stick like a makeshift mine detector, and it'd save them from constant bending over.
Anything with iron content would react.
"Ugh, mages are the best."
"Nah, this is basic stuff anyone should've thought of."
"I didn't."
"Aww, our poor dummy. C'mere, lemme hug you."
"Teeeen."
He buried his face in Winia's chest and held the magnet plate to his breastplate. It stuck, but weakly, sliding off soon after.
Basically fridge-magnet strength.
"Not sure how effective it'll be, but better than ripping up every bush. Here, dummy—grab a stick and make something comfy."
"On it."
He snapped off a long branch, lashed the magnet plate to it with cord, and voilà—a decent detector in moments.
"This is practically a pro meteorite finder."
He tested it on dirt and brush, picking up some iron dust. Junk, which he flicked off.
"Looks good enough. Let's move."
They swept the ground as they went.
Kim Katt scanned the floor while Cloudy and Winia checked the surroundings. Any depressions, and they'd rush over to inspect.
Nothing yet, of course.
Just scrap iron, rusty bits, and tons of dust clinging on. Maybe another group had already swept the place.
"Katt, over there."
"Hm? Meteorite?"
"No. People."
"These damn pests."
Sure enough, a ragtag group was advancing toward them in irregular clothes, each armed to the teeth.
Adventurers, probably.
Like every other bunch, they were combing the area—until they spotted Kim Katt's party. Then they froze, on guard.
Soon, a guy who looked like their leader approached warily, glancing side to side.
No way they're claiming turf again.
Kim Katt spoke first.
"Who're you?"
"Adventurers from out of town."
Same boat as them. These guys didn't seem the type to push their luck like the others.
"Oh, everyone from the same place?"
"Nah, mostly folks who've met up here. Came for meteorites, but got territorial bullshit from the locals. Had to band together with like-minded people."
"Heh, same here. We're adventurers too."
"Figured as much."
With all the groups staking claims, out-of-towners had teamed up.
Makes sense. Against squads combing in force, lone nobodies had no choice but to stick together. Strength in numbers.
This size crew could carve out a spot. You need a crowd to make your voice heard.
Claiming turf means nothing if you're too weak to hold it.
The man eyed them appraisingly, then made an offer.
"Perfect timing. Join us? Strength in numbers to protect any finds. They'll swallow the whole area otherwise. Better unite now."
Good intent, but no thanks.
"Appreciate it, but splitting loot by headcount kills the fun. We'll stick to our trio."
More people meant thinner shares. Sure, searching got easier, but still.
No way he'd split with randoms.
Three was plenty.
"Fair enough."
"Yeah. Good luck hunting."
"Shame."
Rarely, words worked.
Decent guy for an adventurer.
"This is our turf now, so move along."
So much for that—he flipped on a dime.
"Huh?"
"Our claim. As I said, we're getting pushed around. Found this spot with effort—mind heading elsewhere? You understand."
Polite asshole, Kim Katt thought.
Sugarcoating "join or fuck off."
What? A peaceful resolution?
Daring to raise his hopes, only to crush them.
That sparked peak rage.
Fine, if it was turf talk, he had words too.
"Why leave? You came from that way. This spot's fine, no?"
They'd just claimed an empty area. These guys marching in invaded their turf, technically.
It pissed him off, but he'd play nice one last time.
Turf culture? Fine, he got it.
They'd claimed this fair and square.
At least secure your own spot first, like civilized folk. This was theirs; intruders should leave.
Dialogue failed, as always.
"No, we were heading this way—our claim. Turn back. If not..."
—Shing.
He gripped his sword hilt, half-drawing it with a sleazy grin, checking his backup. Overt hostility.
His crew met his glance with vicious smirks, chuckling as they toyed with weapons, glaring.
"Talk fails? We'll bury you."
...These punk-ass shrimps.
Acting tough with numbers.
"Fails how? What're you gonna do, old man?"
"What?"
Courtesy might be a myth.
Kim Katt strode up, getting in his face.
"Watch your mouth, fucker. One word decides if your parents live or die. 'Fails'? Then what? Fight me?"
"N-no, that's not—"
"Hey, why'd you draw?"
Drop the niceties, go aggro—they flinched hard. People mistake kindness for weakness.
Adventurers especially.
"Threaten properly or bulk up first, you mutt. Thought we were talking civil, then you flip. What now? Talk fails, what then?"
"I-I... uh..."
He glanced back for help. His crew shrank too, sensing the tide turn.
No loyalty in a pickup squad.
"Fuck off."
"...Y-yes."
He turned to flee.
But letting him go tarnished the Heavenly Demon's rep.
"Where you going?"
"You said fuck off..."
"Empty your pockets first, dumbass. Common sense. Wallet, now."
"..."
He panicked, glancing around.
"B-bullshit! Guys! Get him!"
Predictable.
Kim Katt always tried nice; no one cooperated.
"Asura Blood Palm Strike!"
—Bam!
Fists and blades were his only allies.
"Gahk!"
The palm to the face sent him tumbling backward in a comical roll. That fixed his conscience, surely.
Fucking meteor hunt turned into a beatdown.
Violence was his fate.
Would the Heavenly Demon fear conflict?
"Wh-what?"
"That's..."
"I can't take him..."
His crew murmured. If they lunged, he'd crush them—but if not, mercy.
Only he drew steel.
"Adventurers! You rushing me? No holding back!"
They scrambled.
"N-no way! Do you, bro!"
"We're not with that guy!"
"Hated his boss act anyway!"
Show strength, and suddenly polite. They picked a new leader and bailed.
Left: Kim Katt, his wives, Quintus, and the coughing loser.
"Ugh... uwaaagh..."
"Wallet, punk. Unless you wanna die."
"Kkh!"
"Nah, I'll search you."
The Asura Blood Palm floored him; he writhed, groaning. Kim Katt pinned his limbs, rifling pockets and pouches.
"Why escalate when we could've talked? No sword, and it'd be fine."
"Grrgh... ack! N-not there!"
"What?"
He tried blocking. Wallet hidden? One Asura knuckle-rub later—"Gehk?!"—and he passed out with a weird yelp.
Weakling.
Knife through his clothes for a thorough shakedown. Wallet, rations, junk.
"Pauper."
Finally, the panties—
—Hm?
Something snagged.
—Hard.
Rock-hard lump. He sliced the fabric free.
Wrapped in filthy cloth—a stone? No...
This texture... metal.
Metal.
"Wh-whoa!!!"
This fucker!
"W-Winia! Cloudy! Meteorite?!"
He shoved it at them. Winia squinted, then gaped in disbelief.
"You found it... like this?"