Fight Club -1-
Fight Club -1-
"Ahem!"
Even after the meal was finished, my father continued to cast dissatisfied glances my way, but I didn't care.
I left the hotel and headed toward the station, returning exactly the way I had come.
'Where did that crazy old man go—the one who told me to go even if my balls were being squeezed?'
The old man who had ripped me off for 10,000 credits under the guise of fortune-telling was nowhere to be found.
He didn't show up until I reached the station.
"Whew."
I gave up and boarded the subway.
Max rolled his brain as he traveled.
'This feels dirty.'
My father's movements were suspicious.
The sense of foreboding had crossed a line.
'He never gave a damn about me his whole life, and then the position he sets up for me is at Cheonmyeong Pharmaceuticals. And then he remarries a woman from Crimson Howl, who is currently competing with Cheonmyeong?'
My father, Layton Steiger, was not a simpleton.
Beneath that hot-tempered exterior lurked a nature that pursued nothing but practical interests.
'He's not the type of person to play a clumsy double agent.'
Crimson Howl or Cheonmyeong Pharmaceuticals. Layton Steiger had already joined hands with one of them.
There was no room for doubt. I was certain.
'This is a headache.'
Even so, I only had suspicion; there was no physical evidence to make a judgment.
In the end, what was needed to secure evidence and reach a conclusion was power.
Max pulled out his phone and checked his account.
'Current balance: 720,000 credits.'
Plus a few coins in my pocket.
No matter how cheap the rent in the outskirts was, considering fixed expenses, things would become bleak starting next month even if I lived frugally.
There was a reason why I was filling out a job application the moment I regressed.
'Money. No matter what I try to do, I need money. Damned money.'
There were other methods that came to mind besides getting a job.
Because I was a regressor.
But the following problem was efficiency.
'No matter what I try to do, the seed money is too small. I won't be able to get much of a loan either.'
There was an item I needed to get my hands on as quickly as possible to increase my growth speed.
It was such an expensive item that it would take forever to get it by rolling 700,000 credits.
I closed my eyes.
"..."
Information from the past flashed through my mind like a panorama.
Cheonmyeong Pharmaceuticals was one of the giant corporations that controlled Heize.
In this city where corruption was daily life, even information from public institutions was no different from private property if you had money.
'Good. This will work.'
I combined the data embedded in my brain.
Even though I had finished my business, I passed right by my house. I stayed on the subway and rode for a long time.
[This station is District 50.]
The destination. As soon as I stepped off the subway, I felt the difference from the 10th-tier districts.
Stale air and noise, a filthy floor that made the soles of my shoes stick with a jjeok-jjeok sound, and homeless people.
'How long has it been?'
Leaving the station, Max took a lollipop out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth.
It was scorched rice flavor.
'Smells like people living.'
District 50 was commonly called the Scrap Forest.
People who didn't know the origin might think it was called that because factories were concentrated there and there were large junk shops.
'In reality, it's a name given because of illegal body clinics.'
The Scrap Forest began when small-scale body clinics without business licenses migrated en masse to District 50, and old-fashioned prosthetic arms, legs, and broken artificial organs of unknown owners began to pile up.
Jeobeok. Jeobeok. Jeobeok.
Max headed toward a bank in an alley.
One of the few places in District 50 with CCTV. Of course, there were no employees, only a single ATM.
'I'm grateful they at least have the common sense to know they'll die if they mess with corporate property.'
He roughly wiped the dust off the machine with his hand.
He withdrew the entire balance of his account in cash.
Wiiiiing! Chrrr-r-r-r—.
The sound of banknotes stacking. He felt gazes piercing his back.
The presence of people increased.
Beyond the glass window, eyes were swarming, measuring whether he was prey they could devour.
'Well, there wouldn't be anyone pulling out cash so blatantly except for outsiders or district celebrities.'
He roughly folded the bundle of currency, stuffed it into his pocket, and walked out confidently.
The vagrants of District 50 surrounded him in a semi-circle as if they had been waiting.
'These punks. Their expressions saying they're going to rob me are certainly honest.'
Max moved his mana to respond to the atmosphere demanding he spit out the money.
Rusted nails rolling on the ground all rose into the air at once.
Pababak!
The nails flew like bullets and embedded themselves into a telephone pole and a wall.
The rats who had been lingering and looking for an opening had a fit.
"M-Mage!"
"Hieek!"
"Why is a Mage in a corner like this... Run!"
The guys who had swarmed at the smell of money scattered all at once.
Their running to preserve their lives was very fast.
In truth, Max wasn't interested in the fleeing humans.
The nails he had launched into the telephone pole caught his eye.
'The output is still weak. My mana is too shallow to utilize my aptitude.'
Max, his eyebrows furrowed in dissatisfaction, walked down the now-empty street toward his destination.
He looked up and checked the sign.
[Oil & Blood]
'Oil and Blood. This is it.'
It was a famous pub in District 50.
As if proving its popularity, rough noise erupted incessantly through the cracks of the firmly closed door.
'It's still early evening... They must have clocked in here as soon as they clocked out of work.'
When he opened the door, the smell of cigarettes wafted out.
A structure consisting only of the first floor and a basement.
On the stairs leading to the basement, two giant men sat like gatekeepers.
Max headed straight to the bartender.
He sat in the seat facing him and announced his business.
"Send me to the basement."
The bartender scanned Max.
He stacked the still-wet dishes and put a cigarette in his mouth.
"A face I haven't seen in District 50. Did you come from outside to spectate?"
"To compete. I want to earn money by working for it directly."
"Where did you hear the info?"
He was asking for a referral code.
"Mermaid's Song in District 38."
He confidently threw out a lie based on his information.
The bartender blew out a puff of cigarette smoke—huuu—and gestured with his chin toward the stairs.
"Go down."
..
..
The reason this shop was called a specialty of District 50 wasn't because the alcohol tasted good or the snacks were great.
The true essence was in the basement.
'Fight Club.'
Max read the atmosphere while drinking carbonated water instead of alcohol.
Spectators were gripping the iron cage and screaming at the top of their lungs.
Since bets were placed on the matches, the spectators' eyes were bloodshot.
Madness swirled around the ring.
"Hey, you piece of shit! Your jaw was open!"
"That, that retard scrap-metal bastard...!"
"Fuck! Are you saving your left arm to masturbate your anus?! Aaaaagh!!!"
It was more of a murderous vibe—threatening to kill them if they lost—rather than cheering.
It was daily life.
Such gambling dens existed all over District 50, but the popularity of Oil & Blood was unrivaled.
Because they paid out dividends precisely, giving them good credit.
And it was the only place of trust in the district that had never been caught in match-fixing.
"Kkeuk."
Max, having finished his carbonated water, headed toward the employee sitting at a table.
It was a man with a hunched back. The name the spectators called him was Finn.
"Finn. I want to bet on myself and compete directly."
"A high-spirited friend has come from the outside."
Finn opened a notebook and grabbed a pen.
He seemed to prefer the old-fashioned way.
"Weapon?"
"Fists and magic."
"A Mage!"
"Only simple things are possible since I'm 1st Circle."
Max levitated Finn's notebook to prove his magic.
Finn pulled a monocle from his breast pocket, confirmed Max's circle, and showed a fishy smile.
"1st Circle confirmed. But Mr. Mage? As you can see, the ring is narrow, so you won't have the room to use magic?"
"That's for me to handle. If I fail, won't you guys have a good spectacle to watch?"
Finn couldn't deny Max's words.
A Mage, an object of fear, being trampled to death in the ring was also a top-tier match.
"Uhihi! I like that arrogance typical of Mages."
"I don't care who it is as long as they're the same 1st Circle. Match me with someone who can get in the ring right now."
"Good, good! I'll set it up immediately. I've become curious whether Mr. Mage will show skills matching his arrogance or beg for his life while turned into a bloody pulp."
Max chuckled and pulled out the humble bundle of money he had.
It was his entire fortune from his account.
"720,000 credits. I'm betting on myself."
"Without even seeing your opponent? Our Fight Club gives you the right to forfeit after seeing the opponent."
"Like I said, I don't care who it is as long as they're the same 1st Circle. If there's no one, match me with a 2nd Circle."
"Uhik! Ihik-hik! Save the talk about not caring about 2nd Circles until after you've shown your skills."
Finn's shoulders shook as he laughed and took the money.
'I really want to beat that laugh out of him.'
He made a mark in his notebook that only he could recognize and then asked Max.
"Mr. Mage. Your name?"
"Name..."
There was no reason to use my real name here. No merit either.
As Max continued to contemplate while touching his chin, Finn offered a solution.
"If you can't think of one, an alias is good too. Don't you have a finishing move or something?"
"I don't do foolish things like using that in a name. Just put down any name."
"You want me to decide?"
"Yeah."
"Uhihi... Just get ready to go up to the ring. It won't take even 10 minutes. I'll prepare a wonderful name to provoke the opponent."
The previous match in the ring had just ended, and they were clearing away the corpse.
..
..
Once the ring was cleaned, a woman went up and grabbed the microphone.
"Has everyone checked the delicious dividends? Have you placed your bets? We will proceed with the next match shortly!"
Shouts demanding they hurry up surged like a wave.
The announcer savored the outcry, paused for just the right amount of time, and then spoke.
"Red corner! The 1st Circle veteran fighter who has returned for his beloved wife and rabbit-like children! El~~~ Dio!"
As the lights focused with the introduction, the man showed off his performance, boasting his steel arm.
He looked accustomed to the ring.
Judging by the cheers, he seemed to have a solid fan base.
"The Blue corner facing him! A fresh rookie who just registered and a 1st Circle Mage! He will kill his opponent and win everything-thing-thing-thing! His name is...!"
The lights moved with a hwiririk and caught Max.
Right on cue, the announcer revealed the name.
"Married Woman Hunter!"
"Ah, fuck."
Max spat out a curse and grimaced at the alias Finn had given him.
And in the eyes of his opponent, El Dio, a murderous rage dwelled.