I'm Carrying a Fortune
Reed bowed deeply before Ur.
He ought to have grown accustomed to her by now, yet the sheer, crushing weight of Ur's presence never failed to fill him with awe.
"Did the offering find your favor?"
Ur replied with undisguised delight.
"Find my favor? Indeed it did! A creature torn from its natural state, warped into a grotesque abomination, has finally found its rest. How could I not rejoice?"
"Torn from its natural state?"
The militia captain had referred to the Crystal Kobold as an aberrant variant—a bizarre mutation found only within the Demonic Borderlands. And to Ur's divine sight, such a creature seemed thoroughly unnatural.
"Crystals encrusted its flesh so heavily it could not leave the cavern, and its bloated frame cursed it with bottomless hunger. Left alone, it would have devoured every last one of its kin, only to perish in the agony of starvation. How could such a fate ever be natural?"
With those words, Ur turned her gaze aside.
Standing there was a massive, majestic tree—a vibrant giant bursting with lush green leaves that Reed had never seen before.
"A pitiful creature that knew only endless gluttony has returned to the soil, becoming the seed of new life. Through this, the great cycle of the earth endures."
Reed had no idea how to read the facial expressions of a colossal ancient tortoise, but he could tell she was in far higher spirits than usual. Her pleasure seemed to run much deeper than mere satisfaction over a hefty sacrifice.
Does Lady Ur want me to hunt down aberrant variants? No, this isn't the time to ponder that.
He couldn't afford to let an opportunity slip by while she was in such good humor. Reed bowed obsequiously.
"Then... will you bestow a reward upon me this time as well?"
"Of course! An offering must always be met with fair recompense. For presenting such an exquisite tribute, I shall grant you two clay tablets once more."
Reed clenched his fists tight. Two clay tablets! It was precisely what he had dared to hope for.
With a gentle, maternal smile, Ur stomped her colossal foot. Thoom!
The ground shuddered, and from the soil rose three clay tablets.
The first bore the inscription for Earth Control.
The second was Earth Grasp.
And the third was an inscription he had never laid eyes on before.
A new spell!
Carved upon the face of the third tablet was the emblem of a circular shield.
A defensive magic?
After careful deliberation, Reed decided to claim the third tablet first. The only way to gauge the potential of a brand-new spell was to test it with his own hands. Who knew? It might prove far more potent than he imagined.
As for the remaining choice... it has to be Earth Control.
He weighed Earth Control against Earth Grasp, but settled on the former without much trouble. As he honed his magic, he had come to realize that Earth Control formed the bedrock that directly influenced every other spell in his repertoire.
If the volume of earth and stone he could manipulate increased, techniques like Earth Grasp would grow proportionally more formidable. It was the very foundation of a building. And to erect a towering mansion, one needed bedrock that would never falter.
Reed reached out and took the first and third tablets.
The clay crumbled to dust, dissolving into twin streams of light that surged into his eyes and mind. An avalanche of arcane knowledge flooded his thoughts.
His head spun violently. As his consciousness frayed and darkness pulled him under, he fell flat on his back. In his fading awareness, Ur's joyful voice echoed warmly.
"You do well! Splendidly! I eagerly await the day we meet again, my child!"
Hearing her parting words, a sudden thought struck him.
Ah. I completely forgot to ask her about the Essence.
That mysterious substance had seeped into his flesh uninvited. Even though his body showed no ill effects, he had harbored a lingering unease and fully intended to question Ur about it...
Well, what's done is done.
Telling himself he could always ask during their next encounter, Reed let the darkness claim him.
When he opened his eyes, the world outside the window was still shrouded in predawn gloom. Reed instinctively turned his head.
"Hnnnngk—khoff! Gaaah! Snrrrkkk!"
Loty was snoring thunderously, dead to the world. Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Reed slipped out of bed and stepped outside into the cool air.
The Placer Gold Village lay draped in silence. Just last night, after holding solemn funerals for the fallen hunter and mercenaries, the villagers had thrown a rowdy drinking feast to celebrate the lifting of the beast's shadow.
They grieved the hunter's death, yet hope for what lay ahead had set their hearts fluttering.
—Did you see the cavern walls? Packed shoulder-to-shoulder with quartz! If we quarry all that crystal, none of us will ever have to worry about putting food on the table again!
For villagers who had spent their entire lives breaking their backs to pan tiny specks of gold from the riverbed, it was miraculous news. Perhaps in the years to come, this settlement would be known not as the Placer Gold Village, but as the Quartz Village.
And so, even with tears in their eyes for the departed hunter, they raised their flagons and sang toasts to the morrow.
Does one man's death pave the road for others to move forward?
It had been a brutal, razor-thin fight. The Crystal Kobold was no ordinary beast. One hunter and two seasoned mercenaries had lost their lives. It wouldn't have been strange in the slightest if Reed had ended up among the corpses.
Yet in the face of such lethal peril, Reed had remained eerily composed, and even now, no crippling trauma haunted his thoughts. It was a stark contrast to Loty, who had spent the better part of last night weeping into his ale.
Why is that?
Was it because he had already experienced death once in his past life? Or because he had clawed his way through the gutters of the slums, witnessing human misery in every gruesome shade? Or was he simply built differently from ordinary folk?
Gazing up at the fading stars, Reed pondered the question for a moment before shaking his head. What was the use in agonizing over it?
There were far more pressing matters at hand.
Reed knelt, pressing his open palm against the dirt, and calmly centered his focus.
Rumble!
The ground stirred, and loose soil and stones levitated into the air. The volume was conspicuously larger than before. He could even lift fist-sized rocks with effortless grace.
My output has grown.
It wasn't merely that he could haul more dirt at once; the raw telekinetic force behind his manipulation had strengthened. Moving an equivalent weight was now faster, and he could fling it significantly farther. On top of that, the sensory range through which he read the earth's composition had expanded noticeably.
It was a thoroughly satisfying stride in growth.
Keeping Earth Control steadily growing is definitely the right path. Next up...
It was time to examine his brand-new spell.
Closing his eyes, Reed traced the mysterious knowledge inscribed deep within his subconscious. The third spell had already integrated itself seamlessly into his mind.
With the casual ease of retrieving a tool from his pocket, Reed invoked the magic.
Skrrrrk!
The patch of soil he targeted compressed violently, its grains locking together until its outer shell formed a smooth, dense surface. Reed crouched and cautiously rapped his knuckles against it.
"...It's solid."
Just as mixing lime, volcanic ash, and sand with water created mortar, and baking wet clay at searing temperatures yielded brick, density was an inherent property of the earth. Property Transmutation — Hardening was a spell forged from that fundamental truth—a magic that forcibly transmuted physical nature.
This confirmed his theory beyond a shadow of a doubt: his worldly education directly augmented his magical repertoire.
Mortar, brick, and cement were the very foundation of what he had been studying under Meister Anton.
Joining the Stonemasons' Union was the best decision I ever made.
Reed immediately set to testing. First came the durability check.
Drawing his utility dagger, he brought the blade down hard against the hardened soil.
Clang! Crack!
The compressed earth managed to withstand the first blow, only to fracture and crumble under the impact of the second. Yet surviving even one clean strike was an enormous asset. On a real battlefield, a single blocked strike was often the razor-thin margin between life and death.
Next, Reed released his hold on the spell. The hardened soil gradually loosened, reverting to its original, crumbly state.
The transformation had endured for roughly ten seconds.
It maintained its altered state for ten seconds. If my mastery climbs high enough, could I make the property change permanent?
Wholly absorbed in exploring the new magic, Reed experimented with its nuances, his mind rapidly mapping out practical combat applications.
How long had he been at it?
Before he realized it, the deep twilight had dissolved, and the morning sun was cresting the distant horizon.
Stretching his neck amidst a blend of physical exhaustion and genuine accomplishment, Reed glanced up—and caught sight of something glittering in the distance.
It was a wooden cart stacked high with the quartz harvested from the aberrant kobold. Bathed in the dawn light, the crystals gleamed with dazzling brilliance.
"..."
Transfixed by the radiance, Reed instinctively scooped up a handful of dirt from beneath his feet.
His mana surged outward on its own.
A staggering phenomenon unfolded.
The loose dirt cradled in his palm twisted, condensed, and crystallized before his very eyes, transmuting into a lump of transparent, rock-hard quartz.
"—!"
Startled out of his wits, Reed dropped the stone. The instant contact broke, the quartz degraded back into ordinary dirt, scattering across the grass. Reed stood frozen, flexing and clenching his empty hand in sheer bewilderment.
"...What was that just now?"
It shared similarities with Property Transmutation — Hardening, yet it was undeniably distinct. This was definitely not a spell bestowed upon him by Ur.
It felt identical to the way crystals sprouted from that aberrant kobold's flesh...
Then where had this spell come from? Only one answer presented itself.
The Essence.
The mysterious swirling substance embedded within the crystal had dissolved into his finger, granting him the power to generate quartz. It couldn't be a coincidence.
The magic I acquire is tethered to my experiences and technical knowledge. Then what on earth is an Essence...? Ugh, I still don't have enough pieces of the puzzle.
Reed attempted to cast the crystallization spell several more times, intending to drill the sensation until it felt natural. But Property Transmutation — Crystallization devoured mana at a monstrous rate. Even Reed, who possessed an unnervingly deep reservoir of mana, was left wide-eyed by the drain.
I can't afford to experiment with this any further today.
It was horribly inefficient, and its immediate tactical value remained dubious at best. Reed decided to shelve the mystery for the time being.
Right on cue, the wooden door creaked open, and Loty shuffled out while yawning wide enough to dislocate his jaw.
"Yaaawn. What's up, Reed? Why're you up so damn early?"
"Oh, no reason. Haha."
Swallowing the reply Because your snoring sounded like a dying boar, Reed offered an awkward chuckle. Loty, completely oblivious, squinted happily at the rising sun, his eyes shining.
"Man... after staring death in the face, the world looks so bloody gorgeous. Let's tackle today with everything we've got!"
Watching Loty make a dramatic scene of greeting the morning, Reed quietly went back inside to pack their travel gear.
The sun had risen. A new day was underway.
It was time to head home.
Pioneer settlements in the Demonic Borderlands fell apart with terrifying ease. Some were wiped out by beast waves, others crushed by marauding bandits, and still others hollowed out by sudden plagues.
The chief of the Placer Gold Village was a man who had guided his people through every one of those trials, dedicating his youth and entire life to keeping this settlement breathing.
Whenever anyone asked why he drove himself to such extremes, the old man would simply smile.
"Because I love my village."
He loved this tiny, unremarkable enclave. He loved the sparkling stream where flecks of gold dust danced, and he loved the villagers who placed their faith in his leadership. To protect their peaceful routines and keep the smiles on their faces—that was his life's sole purpose.
Yet at some point, the smiles had vanished.
Neighbors began disappearing without a trace. People who had shared laughter and warm stew just yesterday vanished like morning mist. Before sorrow could even set in, dread took hold.
When all was said and done, a person's life was their most precious possession. How could anyone find joy in a place where their friends and kin were being snatched away into the dark?
The village had begun to fracture. Desperate voices urged that they abandon their homes and flee elsewhere.
How could he ever bear to do that? The chief loved this village far too much.
And so, he had scraped together the communal treasury and emptied his own life savings to hire the Stonemasons' Union.
It had been an agonizing gamble. He risked losing his wealth, of course, but worse, if the gamble failed, the blood of every villager would be on his hands. The crushing weight of that choice had battered his aging shoulders. For weeks, he hadn't slept a full night, and whenever exhaustion dragged him under, terrifying nightmares tore him awake.
Yet last night, he had slept like a babe.
He couldn't remember the last time he had awakened feeling so thoroughly restored. Far from nightmares, not a single troubled thought had crossed his mind.
With light, eager steps, the chief pushed his door open.
He saw his villagers. And they were smiling.
The farmers tilling the fertile plots, the women setting off to pan for gold, the children chasing each other across the dirt paths—everyone wore a broad grin. It was the very sight he cherished most in the world.
"Did you see the mage back then?"
"The way he tossed all that dirt around with his bare hands!"
Young and old alike spoke of nothing but the mage. The militia captain was enthusiastically recounting his battle exploits, while the children hung on every word with wide, sparkling eyes.
"All right! We're playing mages today! I'm the brave mage! You're the kobold!"
"Hey! No fair, why do you get to be the mage?!"
A flock of young boys was already brandishing shovels, bickering loudly over who got to play the role of the earth mage.
The tale of the mage who smote the subterranean monster would undoubtedly be passed down through generations in this village. When these boys grew into withered grandfathers, they would tell it to their grandchildren, who would one day pass it along to their own. In time, the mage would become part of local legend.
"Lord Reed, was it...?"
The chief bowed low toward the distant figures of the departing stonemasons. Even after their silhouettes vanished beyond the horizon, he did not raise his head.
It was his deepest, most heartfelt homage to the savior who had preserved his village and returned the smiles to his people.
A few days later, upon returning to the grand logistics hub of Morasil, their very first order of business was liquidating the quartz and magic stones.
Meister Anton summoned a dwarven gem appraiser he knew personally. The stern-looking dwarf peered through a monocle, inspecting the rough quartz crystals from every conceivable angle before nodding in satisfaction.
"It is rare to find crystals of such pristine clarity and substantial volume. I shall pay a handsome price for the lot."
"We would be grateful," Anton replied with a courteous nod.
Loty leaned in and whispered into Reed's ear.
"He's kin to our guildmaster. The brother-in-law of his maternal grandfather's grandson, or something like that."
"...That sounds like a terribly distant relative."
"To a dwarf, that's practically immediate family! Point is, we won't get cheated on the coin."
True to Loty's words, the appraiser paid generously. When the division was settled, two pristine gold coins were placed directly into Reed's palm.
"—!"
Reed froze solid at the sheer weight of the wealth in his hand.
Two gold coins!
That was eight hundred copper coins! It was an astronomical fortune that a common laborer in the city couldn't save in an entire year, even if he went without food and stopped breathing altogether.
And that was on top of the hazard dispatch bonus he was already receiving for the frontier mission.
Staring down at this sudden mountain of wealth, Reed was utterly struck dumb.
Actual gold...
Human life was cheap in this world. In the slums of Asteritz, men slit throats over a single copper coin or a moldy crust of bread. Two gold coins was enough blood money to spark eight hundred homicides, and still have enough left over for...
No, maybe I'm taking the grim arithmetic a bit too far.
Lately, Reed had felt his life transforming by leaps and bounds, but never had that reality hit him with such breathtaking clarity. He was no longer a wretched slum rat scrabbling for scraps in the dirt.
He was an earth mage. He was an apprentice of the Stonemasons' Union. A truth he hadn't fully internalized even while locked in mortal combat with a mutated beast now soaked deep into his very skin.
Reed polished the coins against his sleeve, staring blankly at the Emperor's stern visage stamped into the gleaming metal. He felt an unprecedented surge of patriotic reverence for the sovereign.
If I gave the Emperor's face on this coin a big kiss, would the imperial guards arrest me for lèse-majesté?
Anton, however, completely misread the look on Reed's face.
"I am sorry, Reed. Two mercenaries lost their lives, did they not? We had to set aside a substantial sum to compensate their grieving families. By rights, a lad who fought as bravely as you should have taken home an even larger share."
"Pardon?"
Only then did Reed realize that both Anton and Loty were treating the payout with utter nonchalance. Meister Anton was a revered master craftsman, so a handful of gold coins was routine for him. But even Loty—whom Reed secretly viewed as a bit of a clown—merely looked reasonably pleased rather than stunned out of his wits.
Wait... am I seriously the only one freaking out here?
Was stonemasonry truly this wildly lucrative? Flustered and slightly embarrassed that he had been gawking like a country bumpkin, Reed cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem. Well... providing for the families of the fallen is only right."
"Thank you for understanding, lad."
Anton gave an approving nod and clapped both Reed and Loty on the shoulder.
"You both worked exceptionally hard out there. I shall deliver the formal report to the guildmaster myself, so run along and get some proper rest."
"Thank you, Meister!"
"Aye. Until next time."
The moment Anton turned the corner, Loty hooked his arm around Reed's neck as if he'd been waiting for the signal.
"All right, kid! Time for our victory bash! You literally saved my life back in that cave, so your senior is treating you to a feast! Oh, don't get me wrong—I know buying dinner doesn't balance out a life debt, but I know this fantastic tavern nearby... What do you say? You're coming, right?"
Reed endured an agonizing internal struggle. Free food and endless ale! Turning down a complimentary meal ran contrary to every survival instinct ingrained in his soul.
But the gold...!
The coins resting against his chest burned like hot coals. His thoughts were entirely consumed by the desperate urge to stash them somewhere secure right this second. Under his mattress, or buried six feet deep in a secret patch of earth known only to him.
If he sat in a crowded tavern right now, he wouldn't even be able to tell whether the ale was going down his throat or up his nose.
With an expression that looked as if he were weeping tears of blood, Reed forced out a refusal.
"I'm really sorry... I'm just so exhausted today that I think I need to head straight home."
"You are?"
"Instead!!"
"Whoa! Don't yell!"
"Next time! You have to treat me next time without fail, understood?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure thing."
"That's a promise!"
Having extracted an ironclad pledge, Reed turned on his heel and scurried away at top speed.
His heavy coat was cinched tightly around him, his right hand clamped possessively over the bulge in his breast pocket. To anyone with eyes, his entire posture practically screamed: I am carrying a massive fortune on my person!
"Hey, Reed, if you walk around like that, someone's gonna..." Loty reached out a hand to call him back, then thought better of it and let his arm drop. "Well, I'm sure I'm worrying over nothing."
He was a mage who had just slaughtered an aberrant monster, after all. What trouble could possibly touch him?
Meanwhile, Reed darted down the main avenue, his eyes darting frantically left and right. Every passerby looked like a seasoned pickpocket, and he half-expected a gang of cutpurses to lunge at him from every doorway. His heart hammered violently against his ribs.
Naturally, his skittish, twitchy behavior drew curious stares from everyone he passed.
It'll be fine. Yeah, totally fine. Just get to the house.
Hastening his stride, Reed ducked into a narrow alleyway—a shortcut he had no choice but to navigate to reach his quarters.
He was only a few streets away from safety. Just as a sigh of relief began to form in his throat—
Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed closely behind him.
The hairs on the back of Reed's neck stood on end, and an electric chill shot straight up to the crown of his skull.
He didn't even need to look back. He recognized that clumsy, creeping cadence instantly.
He had encountered it dozens of times in the slums.
It was the unmistakable gait of a destitute scoundrel stalking an easy mark—thrilled and jittery at the prospect of a fat score, yet slightly nervous about botching the ambush.
Sure enough, a burly figure stepped out from the shadows ahead, barring the exit.
The moment Reed skidded to a halt, the man trailing him chuckled nastily from behind.
"Hey there, little brother. What'd you find that's got you clutching your chest like your heart's about to burst? How 'bout you let the boys have a little look-see?"
Cutthroats stepped forward from both sides of the alley, drawing rusty short swords and notched daggers. Five of them in total.
The very paranoia Reed had been sweating over had materialized into reality. His own suspicious, twitchy demeanor had practically broadcast the scent of fresh coin, reeling them in like bait.
Yet strangely...
The frantic anxiety that had plagued him on the open street evaporated the instant the blades were drawn. In its place settled an icy, familiar calm. He even felt a bizarre sense of relief.
So an obvious robber standing in front of my face is more reassuring than vague paranoia, is that it?
Through that quiet introspection, Reed caught a fleeting glimpse into the true nature of human fear and dread. It was yet another psychological revelation.
Truly, the world was an endless classroom.
To think even bottom-feeding trash like this could teach me a lesson.
As Reed stared back at them with cold, completely unblinking eyes, an uncanny chill ran through the thugs, making them falter in their tracks.
"Wh-what's wrong with this kid?"
"Hell if I know..."
Only then did the sharpest of the five realize that something had gone terribly, fundamentally wrong. But it was far too late.
Since these gentlemen had generously imparted a valuable life lesson to Reed, he felt it only polite to teach them an equally vital lesson on survival:
Always check who you're picking a fight with before you draw steel.
Reed channeled his mana.