Dark Moon
I arrived at Zone Z.
Zone Z was a vast wasteland, pure and simple. Wider than any other district, it didn't feel like a city at all. Zone X, for all its rundown buildings and filthy alleys, at least still carried the atmosphere of an urban sprawl. Zone Z was nothing more than land that happened to fall within Neo London's borders.
Neo London had all but abandoned any real administration of the place. The city's laws held no force here. Zone Z was a lawless zone.
This is where the people without Neo London citizenship papers end up living, or so they say.
Still, as territory on the map, Neo London made a token effort at minimal oversight. Administrative offices even existed.
The problem is those offices don't actually function.
I rode a bike I'd borrowed in Zone W. In Neo London you normally needed a permit for any vehicle, but Zone Z was the exception. I kicked the engine to life and tore across the wasteland. In a district this sprawling, a ride was essential.
And the public safety situation was a complete disaster. Fifteen minutes into the ride, a pack of biker thugs appeared and fell in behind me. Their purpose was obvious — empty my pockets.
"Yeehaw!"
"You got some nerve riding through our turf alone!"
"Stop right there, you crazy bastard!"
"Heh heh. Flooring it like a horse with its ass on fire. That scared of us, huh?!"
"Floor it, floor it! Yeehaaaw!"
The bikers closed in from behind.
Annoying pests.
They weren't organized like proper gangsters, but the place was crawling with short-lived maniacs who lived day to day. Dozens of bullets slammed into my barrier from behind and ricocheted off. The barrier rippled.
A 5-Class barrier reacting to a few dozen rounds? Magic bullets, then.
I layered on a second barrier.
"Yeehaw!! He's a mage! We can fleece this one for a fortune!"
"Think a mage is gonna make us run?!"
"Doesn't matter what he is — this is our turf!!"
Their formation shifted. Instead of clustering, they spread out, spacing themselves against magic. The practiced movement told me these weren't amateurs — they had real combat experience.
Air Boom
A shockwave of detonated air exploded outward. It was a 3-Class spell — invisible, decently powerful, and one I used often.
Today, though, Air Boom disappointed me. Not a single biker took the hit. They'd sensed the mana reaction and reacted before the spell even went off.
They spun their bikes before Air Boom even triggered. Dodging that requires at least 2-Class mana affinity or better… Every last one of them has 2-Class affinity?
Not impossible. But far more likely they'd juiced themselves on illegal combat stimulants.
"Didn't you hear me tell you to stop? Mages never listen, I swear!"
One of the bikers thrust a hand toward me. A round hole opened in the center of his palm, and inside it, gray mechanical components whirred and clicked into place.
Pssshwooom!
A wire shot toward me and struck the barrier. I'd expected it to bounce off — instead it kept going, coiling tight around the barrier. Some unknown substance seeped from the wire and began dissolving the shield.
"Keh keh. Anti-barrier acid! Doesn't matter how tough your barrier is — this stuff melts right through!"
"Well, thanks for the explanation."
Charna activated.
Remaining Stacks: 6
In the slowed world, I calmly calculated the formula.
Spark
I enchanted the melting barrier with a lightning attribute. Current raced back along the wire that had been dissolving it.
"Gyaaaaaaaah?!"
The biker electrocuted through his own wire let out a grotesque scream and crumpled.
"The boss is down!"
"Shit! So who's boss now?!"
"Obviously me — I'm the vice-boss!"
"Don't make me laugh! You think anyone's taking orders from a scrub like you?!"
The bikers who'd been chasing me started fighting among themselves. I was mid-prep for my next spell and could only bark out a hollow laugh.
What a bunch of idiots.
The bike kept eating up the road ahead. The pack that had been on my tail was nowhere in sight. Part of me wanted to go back and finish every last one who'd laid a hand on me, but I needed to conserve mana for the 4-Class Contaminant.
Racing across the wasteland, I pulled a pocket watch from my coat. Click. The lid sprang open. The minute hand glowed faintly, pointing right. I swung the bike and headed that way.
I reached my destination before the sun went down.
A village called Wayway. It looked like something straight out of the American Old West — which made sense, since Zone Z had been built with the Western frontier as its theme. Most of the villagers wore cowboy gear, revolvers riding at their hips.
I rolled up to the entrance and dismounted. A group of people came walking toward me. At their center was a man in a cowboy hat with a gleaming sheriff's badge on his chest. The badge was stamped with the words Neo London — a sheriff recognized by the city. In other words, a cop backed by official authority.
He was a middle-aged man with a full beard. A musket rode across his back, and four revolvers hung at his belt. He looked me over and spoke.
"Who are you?"
A heavy voice.
"I'm from the X Employment Agency."
"Ah, so you're the mage they sent. I heard you were 5-Class… but you're so young I nearly jumped out of my skin."
"People tend to."
"How old are you?"
"Why do you care? Running a minor check?"
"Well, aren't you prickly. A man can ask a simple question, can't he?"
"I'm a lot older than I look. Don't get hung up on appearances."
I glanced around. Every pair of eyes on me — the sheriff's included — was thick with suspicion. Not that it mattered whether they trusted me or not. I was here to do a job and collect my pay.
"Where's the Contaminant?"
"Somewhere to the east."
"I was told it was prowling around the village… Has it left? You're not canceling the job now that I'm here, are you?"
"That thing's tasted human blood. Once they've had a taste, they never let go. To it, our village looks like a fully stocked refrigerator."
"Until nightfall… Hmm. At least three hours of waiting, then."
"You'll want five. I'll show you to your quarters. Follow me. The rest of you — go home. Gather at the town hall when evening comes!"
The sheriff barked the order, and the people obeyed without hesitation. You could feel the respect they held for him.
He strode up to me and offered his hand. Honestly, I didn't particularly want to shake it — but if I was going to play the gentleman, I didn't have much choice.
"Max Maxim, sheriff of Wayway."
"Yujin Meier. 5-Class mage, X Employment Agency."
"Hmm. Even up close, you don't much look like a 5-Class mage."
"Want me to put a Thunderbolt through your skull? That convince you?"
"Why so sharp? I know we didn't exactly roll out the welcome mat… but there's no need to come in with your claws out."
"…Sorry. Ran into some biker trash on the way here. Put me in a foul mood."
"Those lunatics, huh… Can't blame you."
The sheriff took the lead, and I walked behind him, rolling the bike along.
"As you can see, it's a shabby place. Hope you understand — we don't have anything better."
"I'm only staying a few hours anyway."
I propped the bike against the wall and sat in a worn chair. It creaked under me.
"That outfit of yours — isn't it uncomfortable? I've got a few spare sets of clothes. Happy to lend you some if you want."
"I'm fine like this. Anything else you need?"
"Seems like I'm in your way. Well, I'm on the job right now."
Meaning his job was keeping an eye on me. Annoying, but fair enough. From the village's perspective, I was an untrustworthy outsider.
"Is the work decent?"
"What?"
"Your line of work. Solver, laborer, freelancers, mercenary — they call you all sorts of things, don't they? How's the pay?"
"You interested in this kind of work?"
"I'm already forty-eight. Year after next, I hang up this proud badge."
"Retirement at fifty? Isn't that early?"
"No choice. A sheriff leaves at fifty. That's the rule in Zone Z."
"…The money in my line depends on skill. And luck — good jobs aren't always available."
"You're a 5-Class mage. Why do this kind of work? There must be plenty of more stable positions open to someone like you."
"Almost nothing else lets you rake in money like this does."
"…Is the X Employment Agency a decent place? I heard they take a steeper cut than other Neo London brokers. Said that puts them at a competitive disadvantage."
"If the fees are high, there's a reason. X guarantees freedom. You can walk away whenever you want. And…"
"And?"
I hesitated. Did Max really need to hear this much? I was bored enough that I decided to say it anyway.
"Word is the director of X Employment Agency has connections higher up in Neo London."
"Well now. That's something."
Max leaned back against the wall, head bowed, lost in quiet thought. I pulled out the pocket watch and checked the time.
Time is crawling.
"Dinner's on me. Mrs. Ferrer makes a hell of a beef stew."
"I'm good. I brought my own."
"Don't tell me it's one of those nutrient capsules or combat rations. You'd be better off not eating that junk."
"It's a lunchbox."
He gave me a peculiar look. I ignored it and pulled the lunchbox off the bike. Yuria had packed it for me. Once you'd gotten used to her cooking, nothing else held much interest.
I set it on the table and opened the lid.
Hhk…!
The box was packed full of pussy. A pussy lunchbox.
…No. Wait. I misread that.
Not pussy — grilled abalone. I speared one with a fork and put it in my mouth. Rich, chewy, savory. The more I chewed, the more my face softened. Come to think of it, abalone was supposed to be good for stamina too.
"You look like you're really enjoying that. Mind sharing a bite?"
"……"
I had no intention of giving him any of my pussy — abalone. I flicked a scrap of vegetable from the corner of the box at Max. He caught it between his fingers and clicked his tongue.
"You're a lot stingier than you look."
"Be grateful I gave you anything."
Max put the vegetable in his mouth. His eyes flew wide open.
"O-ohhh! Just one bite! Let me try just one piece of that abalone!"
Barrier
I watched Max hammer on the barrier while I leisurely speared another abalone and popped it into my mouth.