Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Solo Intranet
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Solo Intranet.
A private platform literally made for solos to use.
Its main features? Secret matching with clients. Or info exchanges and trades.
'Self-PR' here is entirely optional.
You know, listing stuff like: Here's who I am, this is what I've done, and these are my results.
Even folks back home in Jin's hometown always sorted food delivery apps by most orders or most reviews first, right?
Buyers are wired that way. Gotta see something tangible to build trust.
So a solid self-pitch is prime advertising to reel in clients. Lots of solos share their stats as slick data dashboards.
But some people don't need that kinda flash.
Those hidden gems. Needles in a haystack.
They just do their thing, and folks notice first. Born standouts from the start.
Jin was one of those.
No such thing as secrets in this world.
CCTV footage of some solo flattening a berserker, then smashing a drug den flat?
That stuff spreads easy. Hell, it's common.
Tons of solos and mercs upload their fight vids for promo anyway.
But hold up.
Something off about this one...
Not just skilled fighting. Way beyond.
And that purple electric flash when pinning the berserker? Self-electricity. Self-electricity, baby.
A no-name Zahard collateral awakened their power!
Lost City would flip. Downtown drenched in blood, Rum Pump Pump exploding again.
The rumor mill screamed in unison:
Beware, people of the city. A superhuman cloaked in lightning has arrived. The next Solo King!
-Not that any of that happened, of course.
Still, it blew up online.
An awakened collateral from a big family? Instant genius watchlist material.
But a level 2 solo? No way.
The Solo Intranet's AI performance analyzer skipped the boring eval steps entirely.
Jin: Solo Level 3 Achieved!
And boom—dopamine fireworks on top.
Stunned but hiding the rush of thrill, Jin played it cool.
Then turned to Poh.
"...I'm level 3 now?"
"That's right."
"Huh. Uh. Already?"
Jin scratched the back of his head.
Not unhappy. Just caught off guard.
Honestly, I'm no veteran, right?
Simple guy, sure, but Jin had a sharp eye for self-assessment in this stuff.
Even he thought his growth curve was steep. Was this okay? He pondered.
But nah, just a passing worry.
If the system says so, what can ya do? Roll with it.
Hell, he went further.
Two vids drop, boom level 3? Solos ain't shit!
Fenrir passed. Eric parked.
Picturing the wolf beastman and helmet-head in his mind's eye, Jin munched a cookie.
Then noticed.
Weird stares all around.
Some casually sipping drinks. Others eyeing him with interest.
Huh. Suddenly feelin' choked up.
So Jin told Poh:
"Lemme finish this and head out. Oh, and save my new terminal number."
Long after Jin left, Kalifa finally emerged from the briefing room.
"Good luck out there."
She saw off two solos exiting with her, then trudged to the central table, looking beat.
Glanced around the now-quiet bar, then to Poh approaching.
"Anything happen?"
"Nothing major. Jin stopped by."
"Jin?"
"Said he came to let us know he's recovered."
Kalifa tilted her head.
"...Recovered? Mama was losing her shit, saying he bolted from the hospital. Who's right?"
"All vitals normal, at least."
"If you say so."
No doubting top-tier android Poh's read. But Kalifa didn't dismiss Mama either.
Gruff personality aside, Mama was top-three healer in Downtown.
Conclusion? Simple.
Jin's body had absurd recovery.
Way past normal solo territory.
But the real shocker was—
"He mention the videos?"
"Yeah. No clue."
"Figured."
Kalifa sighed faintly.
Could picture him chilling alone while the buzz exploded.
"So just us freaking out, huh?"
Poh offered a cocktail as she chuckled dryly.
Shimmering hues in a Midnight Spectrum. Her favorite.
"Didn't seem to care much about the self-electricity. Just shocked at the level up."
"That guy..."
Kalifa trailed off, sipping deep.
Stared into space wordlessly. Eyes unfocused, lost in past moments.
Finally, softly:
"Remember, Poh? Right after his first gig, what'd Jin ask us?"
"Recommended a gun shop."
"After that?"
"Mana Circuit."
"Right. Specifically, if a Mana Circuit lets you learn any spell. When was that? Three months ago?"
Another sip. Bigger this time.
"Distant Zahard branch? Plausible. Awakening? Wild, but possible."
Glass tilted again. Brief silence.
Wet lips continued:
"But what if a rookie who picked up Mana Circuit just months ago pulled it off?"
She slammed the empty glass down.
"...Poh, Jin might just become this city's next legend."
City legend.
Dangerous words.
Great, ugly, or mysterious—they all left marks that never faded.
And those marks built today's Lost City.
"......"
The android barkeep neither agreed nor denied. Just a faint smile as he cleared the glass.
Kalifa gazed out the dark window.
City lights blurred into soft silhouettes, swaying like shadows in firelight. Mirage-like.
Suddenly, her lips moved.
"Maybe the real win from this job wasn't Eanna... but Jin."
Soft music wrapped her murmur.
Lately, Jin realized something.
Level 3 solo? No real change.
Like flipping a page—same book, same story.
Reminded him of turning thirty back home.
Similar vibe. Probably.
Three in the tens didn't make you an adult. Just... novel. Would forty or fifty hit the same? Dunno.
Anyway, Jin's days stayed the same.
Eat, sleep, fight.
Fight, eat, sleep.
Sleep, fight, eat.
Rest meant real rest, so he crashed hard for three days. But didn't waste time.
Like now.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, Jin quietly checked inward.
Perfectly formed Mana Circuit.
Swish—
Pure flow circled his body like waves, returning to the heart.
Where all power converged.
The plasma core waited there.
Purple orb wrapped in lightning threads like yarn.
Tame now, curled up. But ready to roar on his whim.
Not the end, though.
New roommate in his heart: a tiny, fragile ember.
First spotting it? Total confusion.
Who're you?
Unfair for the ember.
Been holding post over half a month. Owner acts like this?
Jin had excuses.
When it sparked, he was crossing wasteland in a frenzy. Missed status window, just walked.
Anyway.
Felt like awkward live-in at first. But days passed, its quiet warmth won him over.
And that warmth? Felt familiar.
Walter.
Overlapped with the man who burned his soul for black flame. No illusion.
His parting gift?
Didn't dwell.
Jin decided: Walter's ember.
Wanted it that way.
Okay, settled—
So what's your power?
Jin poked it like a teasing uncle. With mana, not finger.
Silence.
Plasma would've flipped out. This? Painfully meek. No fun poking.
Embarrassed, Jin checked for new constellations. Nada.
What even are you.
Staring at the ember, he shrugged and looked out.
Family now. Lame for now, whatever. That's that. Plus, it's cozy.
Up from bed.
Gurgle—
Stomach clock hit.
Out the motel, fired up the Manticore parked pretty in the lot.
Vrooom!
Raced twilight streets to a food-packed alley—
Dismounting, strolling slow, Jin halted at one shop.
[Delicious Skewers]
Plain name. But the aroma? Legit. He wandered in, entranced.
"Whoa?"
Awe slipped out.
Skewers on plates circling a round conveyor belt.
Rotating skewers?
Color-coded prices confirmed it.
Never knew this spot existed.
Plopped at an empty seat, snagging passing plates.
Taste? Decent, not matching the smell.
Little betrayal, but solid dinner.
Jin chowed steadily.
Normal folks? One or two plates, sour faces, bounce. Jin, waste-hater, stayed solo.
Glancing 'round: Jackpot. All mine.
'His mindset's worlds apart.' Couldn't fit better.
Then, as Jin loosened his belt for full assault—
Thud.
Someone entered.
White-haired geezer.
Wrinkle-map face scanned, sat... right next to Jin's right-side neighbor spot.
Counterclockwise belt: passed Jin, then old man.
Like Zhang Yi-de facing Cao Cao at Zhangpan Bridge: 'No plate gets past me!' Heartbroken Jin.
But whatcha gonna do.
Every ten plates, spare one or two. Varied flavors, even. Tried hard.
Next: gizzard incoming!
Old snags? Pride swell. Skips carcass? Gut punch. Solo circus act.
Jin meant it.
Dudes get tunnel vision when hooked, right?
Pondering pork neck or ribs toss—
"Damn fine appetite."
Creaky voice in right ear. Jin whipped head.
Missed both. Catastrophe!
Nooo.
Heartbreak, but Jin's East Asian courtesy core.
Honor elders ingrained—even blood-soaked now.
Old smiles, he smiles back.
"Need more? I can spare."
"Nah. My gut ain't your size."
"Ah. Shoulda said."
Sighing at passing plates, old followed gaze, chuckled heartily.
Sounded great. Jin laughed too.
"Still, eat up. Gotta eat big in old age."
"How? Gulp sans chew like you? Pass."
"Psh. Who said match me?"
Jin snagged, picked meats, stacked towers. Two skyscrapers now. Rainbow high.
Old shook head.
"What's your name?"
"Jin Evernight."
Full name, naturally. 35 mil credits—flaunt when fitting.
"Cool name, right?"
Old barked laugh.
Then:
"Where from?"
"Downtown."
Random? Nah, Jin shrugged it off. Old folks bond like that—porch uncles grilling tourists.
"Lived here over twenty years?"
"Yup."
Technically one year three months, but nah—contradicts origin claim.
Nod vague, added smooth:
"You ain't local, huh?"
"Why think that?"
"Locals don't ask origins. We spot each other."
"True. Spot on."
Old grinned.
Jin chewed skewers heartily, loving the booming laugh.
Then voiced a passing thought:
"So what's bringing you to Downtown?"
Old man:
"Chasing my runaway son. Ended up here."
"Aw, man."
Jin grimaced sympathetically.
Quiet rage bubbling:
What punk son makes his old man slum this shithole?
Prime deadbeat scum, bet.