Chapter 130
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: A Fellow Downtown Survivor
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Naturally, the response was "Yes."
Jin gulped down his milk with a lukewarm expression.
The world sure is small.
Who would've thought he'd hear stories about the Apostles and Cecil outside the Outlands.
Of course, Leron looked utterly dumbfounded.
Not only had he pinpointed the Black Mage's gender accurately, but seeing the other man's "I knew it" expression made it impossible not to be flustered.
"Do you know them?"
"Know them? We even fought."
"Fought..."
Leron's face hardened.
Tension crept into his formerly warm features, but Jin, unperturbed, pressed on with his questions.
"When exactly did they pass through?"
"...About a fortnight ago."
"Ehey."
Jin clicked his tongue.
His expression mixed irritation and regret, plain as day.
A fortnight was too vague to chase after them.
Just thinking about getting done in by that vampire still made his blood boil.
He hadn't dwelled on it, but he'd never forgotten the Cathedral fight.
Downtown Street Rules, Chapter 5: If you get hit, hit back twice as hard. Even if it kills you.
Jin hadn't even started his revenge yet.
For the record, Chapter 1 was "Don't die," and he was managing that somehow.
Anyway.
Jin couldn't help but feel disappointed by the situation.
And here was a Pilgrim, no less.
This was the perfect chance to take down those Apostles together...
His fist clenched involuntarily.
Wasn't it human nature to feel bolder with a reliable ally by your side?
To be precise, the Pilgrim was weakened right now... or was he? Anyway, his body was frail, so he probably wouldn't have been much help against the Apostles.
But whatever.
Did people ever weigh every detail when feeling regret?
No, regret was just regret.
As Jin let out a heavy sigh,
Leron, gauging his mood, slowly spoke up.
"Ube warned me, but you're even more impressive than I imagined. Sorry for not recognizing you. I've lived over twenty years in the Outlands, you see. Haha. Just one wall between us, but the world changes so much."
Jin turned to him.
"Well. I am pretty great. Ahem."
Praise always felt good, no matter when.
His lips twitched upward as he replied.
Truth be told, given Jin's accomplishments, even that reaction could be called humble.
Only half a year since engraving his Mana Circuit. And already Rank 2 Late Stage.
It was growth without precedent.
Even Kendrick had taken twenty years to reach that level.
To outsiders, it was no exaggeration to call it god-given talent.
Of course, Jin didn't care about that—he just enjoyed the compliment.
"So you're from Lost City?"
"Yes. Lived there until I was seventeen."
"Oh. Which district?"
"Downtown."
Cough.
Jin, smugly tilting his tin cup, suddenly hacked up a lung.
Then, with a blank face, he asked back.
"...Downtown?"
"Is there a problem?"
Leron tilted his head, and Jin thrust out his palm.
His voice was cheerful.
"I'm from Downtown too."
"Ah?"
Leron grabbed the proffered hand in surprise, only to have his arm pumped vigorously by tremendous strength.
A situation any office worker has endured at least once.
The world's top three connections.
Blood ties, school ties, regional ties.
Match just one, and conversation flows like magic.
Like that boss who ignored you suddenly asking—
Hey, XX, where you from?
Oh! Busan? Where in Busan? What? Yeongdo? Me too! No way. Another Yeongdo guy here. High school? ...Ah! Busan Nam High! Nam as in South, not Male! Class of '42. Baekdu Mountain! Towering spirit. Clasped at the end~! You know the school song too! I've overlooked my junior all this time. Here, have a drink!
Just like that.
Shared hometowns often led to school ties hitting home runs in succession.
In that sense, Jin and Leron shared both regional and "school" ties.
Regional was obvious, but school?
Well, both were street-raised.
He'd fought beggars over the prime spot inside a burning oil drum in midwinter.
True wild child.
A genuine street rat who'd learned life on the pavement.
(Skip that over thirty percent of Downtown was street-born.)
Good was good.
Their talk already had momentum, sails full.
Remember this?
Still got that?
Who's alive?
How was it back then?
Yeah. No.
This and that.
Chit-chat flowed, drawing them closer psychologically in no time.
"Solo Level 5? My god. Your brother's famous in the city."
"Nah. What. Just... sometimes fans ask for pics."
"That's fame. Too humble, you're useless."
Kekekek.
"Rum Pump Pump, huh. Sounds like a must-visit. Generous portions and good food—why didn't we have a place like that?"
"Come anytime. I'll treat you proper."
"Appreciate it."
Kekekek.
Laughter continued.
The interpreter, refilling milk, looked puzzled.
He understood city tongue(?) in the twisted Outland dialect, so he noticed their talk had gone casual.
Soon, he set down a plate of boiled potatoes and left. Jin snatched it eagerly, juggled it hot-hot-hot with both hands, and finally took a bite.
Blowing on it, he asked,
"So how'd you end up settling in the Outlands, big bro?"
Leron gave a wry smile.
"I was fed up. The stagnant life, the anxious days—all of it. So I decided. Better to seek a way to survive, even if it means getting weeded out, than die unnoticed like a rat."
It was over twenty years ago now, he added briefly.
Thinking about it, the 40s slums were born from corporate-family wars.
A demon den where gangs and war criminals hid from city hall.
When Leron was there, the war had ended just over a decade prior—the horror was worse, if anything.
No need to ask why a mere seventeen-year-old fled the city.
One small question, though—
"Scavenger was an option too."
"Hated the city itself. Just wanted out, ASAP. No desire to live like a bandit flashing yellow teeth."
Leron answered, picking up a potato.
"I was clueless. Way too clueless."
He peeled it delicately, bit into the fluffy inside, blew on it like Jin, and spoke.
"But I was lucky, all the same."
The story flowed naturally.
They say no paradise awaits after fleeing to another land.
A week out of city bounds.
Leron despaired as rations ran dry.
Turning back was unthinkable, but ahead, the ochre horizon stretched endlessly.
But he didn't agonize long.
Go back?
What changes?
Trash spitting in clasped palms to the sky, and himself envying their lives?
Revolting.
So Leron never looked back.
If returning alive needed a miracle, he'd pray for it in the Outlands.
Outlands.
Lands beyond the old Empire's territory.
Where kingdoms and races once thrived—now lumped as "unknown."
At some point, Leron passed out.
When he woke, strange faces encircled him.
"Paltok Tribe. Closest to the city, so basic talk was possible."
Dehydration and starvation—his last memory was blacking out in agony.
Maybe that's why.
Waking surrounded by strangers, he firmly believed he'd been granted a second life.
The city-hating boy had died in the wasteland. So he thought.
"A miracle, plain and simple."
"Why'd they bring you?"
"Good question."
Leron tapped his temple with a finger.
"Dunno if it was the near-death trigger, but I awakened Psychic powers. They spotted it."
"Psychic powers?"
A small voice echoed in Jin's mind.
=Telepathy.=
"Oh?"
Jin exclaimed softly.
Not because Leron's ability impressed him anew.
Just an instinctive reaction to new info.
This Pilgrim had more than one power?
Force fields and now telepathy?
Meaningful discovery.
Jin had once asked the family heirs during bonding time.
Don't you guys do arranged marriages?
In hero stories, parents' powers often pass to kids.
So wouldn't a Solad-Marji child have half ice, half fire? Pure curiosity.
The heirs got it and explained.
Powers bias toward inheritance.
In short, half-half became pure ice or fire lineage.
And with only two choices, manifestation rates dropped—why no intermarriages.
Psykers at Omega grade could have multiples, apparently.
Though the Pilgrim might be special.
Hmm. Ask later.
Jin nodded and spoke.
"So the interpreter guy's got telepathy too, huh."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"He talked to you, right?"
Leron shook his head.
"No. Ube's just above-average Psychic. No telepathy."
"Huh? Then how."
As Jin tilted his head, Leron chuckled and continued.
"Telepathy's like securing your own unique channel. Like..."
"A radio?"
"Similar. But different. Radios need matched frequencies both sides. Telepathy? I bridge it."
=Like this.=
Jin, puzzled by the voice in his head, asked,
"How do I reply?"
"Usually one-way. But above-average like Ube can learn to send thoughts back with training. True Psykers don't need it."
"Aha."
Jin nodded in understanding.
Meanwhile, Leron's tale went on.
The boy starting anew adapted, earned acceptance, rose to leader.
Not smooth, but Leron recited flatly, then shrugged sheepishly.
"Talked too much. Meeting a fellow townsman loosens the tongue."
"Nah. Fun story."
No empty words.
He'd gained plenty from it.
"Time flies. Your friends must be worried. 'Guy goes in, never comes out.'"
"Nah. Probably not."
Jin swallowed the part about the off-spec Psyker eavesdropping even telepathy.
Leron added,
"It's late. Stay the night."
"Oh. Cool?"
"Of course. We wasted your time; this is the least."
Perfect.
Jin smiled faintly, spared from camping.
"But. Even if you're strong, I wouldn't recommend pushing ahead."
"...?"
"Black Mages have holed up in the nearby ruins."
"Huh?"
Jin blinked in confusion.
A question mark practically floated over his head.
"They passed a fortnight ago."
"Those three did. But they left a tail. Black-hooded guys."
Leron had been picking up and setting down his empty cup repeatedly.
Fine one moment, fidgety at Black Mage mentions.
Still, he calmly continued.
"We don't know why they took it. But some brothers who went for revenge never returned."
Whew—
His tin cup hit the table with a heavy sigh, mirroring his unease.
Brief silence.
Then,
"No need to risk it. Life's precious."
Jin didn't counter with how he treated Black Mages like EXP farms, or all the reasons it was fine—stuff no outsider would get.
He just resolved to hit those ruins at dawn and smash them.
Their crimes:
Defiling the pilgrimage road.
Killing his sworn brother(?).
Blocking his path.
Heinous enough for execution.
Bang bang bang.
District court, high court, supreme court.
Downtown judges didn't know fancy trials.
Three trials skipped—straight verdict from Jin.
Then, muttering under his breath,
"I'm fighting. Don't stop me."
A gentle reply came.
=Part of the pilgrimage, I suppose.=
Late night.
Cooling geothermal earth, chill lingering.
Krunch, krudunk.
A weasel buried in a dead rat's guts perked its ears and lifted its head.
Staring warily, it spotted something and bolted.
Moments later.
A sole ground the dead rat.
Skrrunch. Robe hems dragged across the dirt.
Long robes. Not one person.
Feet crushed the bloody rodent, steps continuing.
Swish swish, snake-like fabric friction.
In moonlit silence, their wordless march ghostlike.
Deep hoods hid faces in shadow, enhancing the effect.
Thus.
They halted before a massive stone wall.
The leader raised his right arm.
Gripped hair.
A severed head below.
It nodded.
One of few expressions possible with vocal cords gone.
Its twisted face screamed ongoing agony.
Whoosh.
The head was hurled at the wall.
It should've bounced off—yet vanished through.
The distortion spell exposed pathetically.
Srash.
The thrower stepped through slowly.
Black Mages followed one by one.
Then stopped abruptly.
They'd spotted the leader, throat gripped, thrashing.
"Keh, kehehek!"
Desperate hands clawed the wrist, but the arm didn't budge.
Next instant.
Crackle-zap-zap!!!
Fierce lightning—pain-twisted face flickered in hood shadow like stuttering frames.
Soon.
Psssh, sizzling flesh smoke, body tossed rolling across the ground.
"Look at these guys?"
Clap clap. Heavy footsteps approached.
"Came yourself?"
Jin grinned savagely.