Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: How to Survive in Fusion Punk
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Jin quietly stared at the middle-aged man.
The heated air whipped up a hot gust, tossing his hair about.
And amid that flow of heat came something else entirely—a thick, intoxicating scent of mana.
As someone who handled mana himself, Jin felt it not with his eyes, but with his body: a profound resonance.
It couldn't be explained by raw power alone.
Time had piled up within it. Ages. Something you could call history settled hot upon his skin.
But rather than being overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation, Jin focused on what needed doing right now.
Keeping his gaze fixed on the middle-aged man, he stretched back the arm holding Gravis.
Then pulled the trigger.
BANG!
BANG!
Three deafening shots.
He'd personally blown the head off a monster that was already charred black, its breath fading.
Talking big without lifting a finger—like blowing your nose without using your hands.
Jin shoveled up the feast someone else had laid out, not with a spoon but a ladle, slamming it down with all his might. Dopamine fireworks exploded in his brain, his body shuddering.
And right on cue, the quest completed, doubling the rush.
"Hah... fuck."
Jin squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.
It felt good. But it sucked.
The forced injection of accomplishment and reward.
The primal pleasure it brought gifted him the will to live on.
Like jamming ten yellow nutrient sticks upside down into a wilted potted plant.
So it wouldn't snap midway.
"Even if you hadn't pulled this shit... I'd have gone all the way anyway...!"
Jin clenched his trembling fist tight.
How much time passed?
By the clock, just a few ticks of the second hand. But it felt like an eternity of ecstatic agony. Finally enduring it, Jin slowly lifted his eyelids.
Then flashed an awkward smile.
"Ah. Been waiting?"
The middle-aged man snorted.
"Weird kid."
"Says you... right?"
Jin startled mid-reply, his usual casual tone pitching up awkwardly at the end. His gaze darted evasively.
Come to think of it, that middle-aged guy over there.
Apart from unleashing that insane spell, he didn't give off any aura at all.
Even now, eye to eye, he just looked like a regular bum. The incinerated monster was the only proof.
This was what wuxia novels called "unassuming master," right?
Or maybe the gap in level was too wide for Jin to sense it. Same difference anyway.
Fact was, Jin was the relative weakling here.
So he needed to play it smart.
Had he said something dumb?
As he seriously racked his brain...
The middle-aged man spoke up.
"Act normal. Don't overthink it."
"That okay?"
"When have you ever minded me?"
"...Fair."
Jin had always mixed formal and informal anyway.
No need to change now.
In the brief silence that followed, Jin glanced at the man.
"......"
An unknown powerhouse.
A walking bundle of variables. Jin had been ready to spam Blink and bolt if things went south. But the guy's sluggish expression didn't scream "about to flip out."
Still, no room for complacency. With mana primed and ready, Jin spoke.
"You let yourself get caught on purpose?"
"Huh?"
"Undercover op or something."
The guy who'd blown his own head off hadn't suspected Jin of being a government agent until the end.
So this was a reasonable guess after some thought.
But the response was a doozy.
"Nah? Like I said, I woke up here."
"...Then why hang around like that?"
The chains should've been no issue for him. Even Jin could've broken free if he tried—and he had.
"Curious, that's why. Watching those freaks run wild was pretty entertaining. Was gonna play along a bit, but then I got this unexpected show."
The middle-aged man grinned. Jin looked nonplussed.
So he'd stayed caught on purpose.
Crazy talk from a guy who seemed off his rocker.
Time to back off slow...
"So. You. What's your name?"
Sudden curveball.
Not hard to answer, though. Kinda welcome, even.
"Jin Evernight. Cool name, huh?"
Jin tossed out his full name with a wink.
3.5 million credits well spent on that surname.
Hoping it rang nice in others' ears too.
But the man's reaction was odd.
"...Evernight, huh. Fake name?"
Jin's face soured.
Had he sniffed out the forged ID?
Didn't matter if he had.
But guessing from the surname alone? Problematic.
As Jin pondered switching his newly cherished name...
The man scratched his stubbly chin and continued.
"If it's not fake, that's surprising. Figured you for some drama-filled bastard branch..."
Then shrugged.
"Nah. Better if there's no blood tie."
He looked relieved all on his own.
Jin was used to rambling off-topic,
but this guy was just as much his own man.
They stared at each other, muttering nonsense, the vibe all awkward.
Anyone watching would've tilted their head: what the hell?
The standoff dragged on.
Younger Jin snapped out first.
"......? Uh, hold up. Hey. Hey?"
He snapped his fingers. The man blinked and looked over.
"Hm? What'd you say?"
"About to. So, senior, what's your name?"
"I'm Rokan."
Rokan peered into Jin's face.
Like checking his reaction.
Reading the room, Jin scratched his cheek.
"...Must be famous."
Best response he could muster, but even polite talk wouldn't call it good.
If Jin cared beyond his little bubble, peering into the vast world with passion...
The next question would've been:
'You bear the Zahard name?'
Rokan would've shaken his head.
Said he'd ditched it long ago.
Zahard.
Head of the great Seven Families.
A name that touched the skies of Lost City.
Even soaring skyscrapers had to crane their necks.
And this man before him had kicked it aside. A madman.
The madman bellowed a laugh.
Delighted at the kid's blank slate.
"Dumbass."
"What? Even for a senior, insult me—no, this body, no! Myself, and..."
What could he do?
Tsk—run?
Words failing, Jin trailed off.
Rokan smirked.
"So, who's your master?"
"Don't have one."
"......"
Rokan paused at the instant reply, then spoke slowly.
"No master. And you wield mana that pure."
He could tell by looking.
Not just pure, but flawlessly controlled. Like a master painter with the perfect canvas.
No master, though.
"Self-taught?"
"Kinda."
Jin confirmed.
Couldn't mention the status window. Best he could do.
And while not truly alone, he'd learned brutally.
Endured the mind-rending pain.
No exaggeration—it hurt like hell.
Drool pouring out on instinct.
PTSD from the memory hit; Jin shuddered.
Then sudden booming laughter erupted.
Rokan threw his head back, uvula flashing, then spoke through chuckling lips.
"A body blessed by mana for real. The Seven Heads would flip. Shame I can't see their faces."
His muttering face looked refreshed somehow. Jin just blinked in confusion.
"Let's laugh together or something."
Off his rocker, like always.
Jin mentally drafted a profile on Rokan.
Unassuming master bum.
A bit unhinged.
This trash city breeds no sane elders.
As Jin grumbled inwardly...
Rokan, done laughing and monologuing, added satisfiedly.
"Haven't laughed like this in ages. Thanks for the show. Good thing I stayed tied up."
"Eh. If you enjoyed, cool."
Soulless reply done, Jin pondered a farewell—time to go our ways.
"Dunno what picture you'll paint ahead, but I can add a stroke or two."
Rokan stepped forward—and was suddenly nose-to-nose with Jin.
No time to react.
Just a purple bolt of lightning stitching the air, fading faintly.
In that instant, as witness, Rokan's voice crawled slow into Jin's ear.
"Nothing special. Just basics..."
The rest went unheard.
Time froze, vision crawling eternally slow—save one hand, moving normal speed, reaching straight...
The fingertip touched his chest. A spark leaped.
Lightning crashed through Jin's mind.
The world's wildest stroke etched lawless words.
Fuck... I'm screwed...
His eyes rolled back.
It took ages for Jin to claw back his sanity.
What a sight.
Eyes hollow and unfocused, limbs splayed like Da Vinci's proportions gone wrong...
Tears streamed from eyes staring at the factory ceiling.
"Fuc... kin... hell."
Maybe because he'd been steeped in indescribable agony.
Mind and body utterly wrecked.
He ignored the status window blinking insistently in his vision's corner, didn't even snap at it. Need more proof?
Like that, for a long while.
Dim moonlight through factory windows shifted from predawn blue to dawn's light.
All night like a corpse, then Jin finally sat up.
He raked back his messy bangs with a dry wash, surveyed the changed surroundings.
Bodies stripped of skin were now ash piles—
Odd equipment shattered beyond recognition.
Probably Rokan's doing.
Jin was just dazed.
"...Why leave me here like trash? Because of you, I..."
Gravelly mutter aside.
Finally, his eyes flicked to the nagging corner glow.
Relentless blinking.
"Why. Why. What the hell. Huh?"
As if waiting, the status window filled his view.
You again?
Jin shook his head at the unwelcome face that popped up whenever forgotten. Then froze.
"Huh?"
Rubbing his eyes, he double-checked the unfamiliar text, then squeezed them shut.
Inner world lit the night sky in an instant.
There, Jin whipped his head around.
Crossing nebulae, his gaze halted abruptly—like magic.
Found it.
A new constellation, never before seen.
Not Rokan's plan.
He couldn't have foreseen this.
Who could've known?
The tiny mana he'd infused—just basic guidance for a blessed body—would spark as a "trigger" for someone surviving this world's bullshit alone.
And now.
A grand bolt loomed over the budding spark atop the peak.
The secret art of the Seven Families unleashed silent thunder.