Elixir (5)

The President of the United States picked up before the third ring even finished.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this call? So—what will it take for you to naturalize as an American citizen?"

"No. Actually, I'm calling because I need a favor."

"Heh heh..."

The President laughed, then fell silent for a long moment.

"...America is not a country you can win over that easily."

"No, it will be quite easy once you hear what I have to say."

"Ha... hahahahahaha! Phew... Fine. I'm listening."

The current US President was, in his own right, a leader enjoying tremendous support within America. The contracts he'd brokered had been enormously favorable to the United States, and with its military might still growing, America had firmly established itself as the undisputed number one power in the world.

And precisely because of that, in the current situation, thanks to the exploits of soldiers who had accumulated ample real combat experience, the United States now boasted one of the lowest gate-related death rates in the world.

Even so, countless goblins already roamed American soil. The reason was simple: no matter how vast the continent, there was no way to seal every gate that opened day after day.

That was why America was pouring colossal effort into raising the overall level of its citizens and reducing the frequency of gate occurrences. And since its obesity rate ranked among the highest in the world, the grim reality was that most of its people were dying at mere stage three or four of the trials.

"Elixir. And I can supply enough for each person to take it up to ten times."

"...Haha. Now that's not something to be taken lightly. And just how much can you prepare?"

"One per person. Ten thousand in total."

"Ha... oh, you. Mr. Kim, are you even an ordinary human being? You're not one of those regressors from the novels, are you?"

"If only I were."

In the end, the President accepted. To start, exactly ten elixirs would be sent over as samples. Before long, a South Korean special forces unit departed for the United States under ironclad protection—possible only because no aerial monsters had yet emerged from the gates.

In any case, it didn't take long for the elixir's effects to make themselves known in America.

Article after article spread across the nation. We had sold a full ten thousand units to the United States—and not at the original price of thirty million won apiece, but at a princely seventy million won each.

Soon after, the government purchased all one hundred thousand units from me as well, and announced plans to use them as leverage in negotiations with China. Word was already spreading that America had pledged its support for South Korea, and that this elixir could nearly double a person's combat power.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

And the rumors held water. When most of the Returnees who had cleared stage ten in Korea drank just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a single unit, fully assimilated it, and measured the results, their average combat power had risen by roughly 1.6 times.

Combat power meaning, for a physical enhancer, a full-power punch; for a mage, a full-power spell. In any case, dramatic as the numbers were, the elixir was being administered to the vast majority of Korean Returnees day by day. Of the ten days since their return, a full seven had been devoted entirely to training that would let them perfectly summon the elixir's effects. As for anyone who needed more elixirs afterward, it was decided the number of subjugation missions they could undertake would be capped.

To administer this system, a scheme borrowed from the rankings commonly used by fantasy hunters was adopted—grades running from F all the way up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to S. Based on this grade, Returnees would be granted priority access to the elixirs they could each acquire. In other words, if I ever began selling lower-grade elixirs, those at the top of the priority list would get first pick. Anyone buying the low grade, however, would be barred from the lowest grade, and priority on that would pass to the next in line. And once someone had purchased the lowest grade more than ten times, they would be cut off entirely—a hard limit of ten units per person.

As for the possibility of someone swallowing fewer than ten and selling the rest? The government's reasoning was that anyone who did that was as good as dead before long, so it simply wouldn't happen. And even if someone did try, they intended to block it for as long as they could manage—though they admitted there was a limit to that, too.

"Hm. Ambiguous. The Cloud Somersault and Form 2... Form 2 is clearly a defensive technique, so that's fine, but the Cloud Somersault? I already have mechanical mounts if I need a ride."

"Aigoo, fine, fine. I got it. Why are you getting so worked up?"

In the end, I was about to summon the Cloud Somersault, but this was hardly the time or place to test it out, so I decided I'd give it a spin once I got back home.

Either way, Form 2 and my second trait were now both unlocked. And as South Korea's standing—and indeed its standing on the world stage—continued to climb, so too would I grow truly stronger.

The number of machines from my legion that I could now leave stationed here had reached roughly ten thousand. The reason I'd never produced the full hundred thousand in the first place was that I'd been pouring every last point into increasing the count of top-grade and high-grade units.

"Oh, right. Pitasha, how did the smart farm thing turn out?"

"According to Director Lee Jin-seok, they're selling first to the people who were truly on the verge of starving. After that, the economically disadvantaged and... well, honestly, Master, I'd say as long as it sells, it's done its job, no?"

"Fair enough."

By the way—the other world everyone kept being taken to. It had been officially named the Abyss. The Americans coined the term, while we Koreans went with "Returnee," and since most other countries had adopted "Defenser," there was some debate over which to use—but in the end, since America had already set the standard, everyone just went with it. Calling it something other than the Abyss would've been fine too, but apparently no one could be bothered when the whole world was already using the American name.

"The thing is, the Korean public fell head over heels for the word 'Returnee.'"

To put it precisely, everyone who'd grown up loving novels and webtoons had wanted the term, so the government simply gave the people what they wanted. Japan, sharing the same Chinese character tradition, adopted "Returnee" as well. China, of course, stuck with "Defenser."

"Between the Abyss and the smart farms built in the modern world, the food alone came out to enough to feed every single citizen of South Korea for three months."

To move it all before it spoiled, the Korean government reportedly sold it at practically free prices to single-parent households and others in financial hardship, and at roughly half price to everyone else. For a country that had imported the bulk of its rice and grain, this was an enormous stroke of fortune.

"Now then, let's see how the hiring went, shall we?"

The people I was hiring were for the smart farm and the guild, of all things. I genuinely wanted to build the guild into a proper organization, so I'd posted openings for an in-house legal team and the administrative staff to match. Naturally, I'd set every salary high.

For the smart farm, I needed someone to manage the operation, plus the brokers I'd been trading agricultural products with all this time. For the manager, anyone trustworthy would do; the produce brokers, obviously, were for moving the goods. Right now, with the nation in crisis, everything was being sold to the government, but before long I'd establish my own distribution channels.

It wasn't that I felt some obligation to help just because the country was struggling—but my family and I were already eating more than comfortably, practically feasting. I had no intention of being stingy about food of all things. Besides, the government was buying at pre-crisis market prices anyway.

"Cutting the electricity rates? Damn... the man's ruthless. Absolutely ruthless."

Lately, voices here and there had been claiming that President Choi Seok-hoon of South Korea was ruling like a dictator. But setting aside a sliver of his foreign policy, every one of his decisions had been wise, and you could practically feel it in your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠daily life that the man was genuinely working for the people.

Still, the fact remained that he had gone so far as to lower electricity rates to shore up his approval numbers.

South Korea had been undercutting Japan and a host of other nations, dumping manastones at rock-bottom prices. And we were burning through staggering amounts of electricity—mass-producing food on top of surrounding the farms with high-voltage fencing.

Unlike South Korea, foreign countries still had goblins swarming even their remote regions, and the word was that wildlife there was being slaughtered without end. It had gotten bad enough that governments were deploying troops around livestock just to keep them alive. They say some households had even gone so far as to install power generators and stationary bicycles just to keep the lights on.

"Whoa... everyone's about to get rich, huh?"

Recently, a bill had passed that would act as wings for companies pushing research into predicting where gates would spawn using manastones. There was even a generous, secure supply of manastones earmarked for it—enough to cover the first round of experiments and then some.

Which meant there was no longer any reason to burn through manastones forcing gates to spawn in a single location.

"Huh?"

The reach of the ordinary internet. A video posted by a Korean student living in the States had racked up a staggering four million views. I clicked in—and learned something remarkable.

"...Three hundred million?"

The elixir I'd sold at seventy million won apiece was now trading in America at three hundred million won per unit.