Chapter 44

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 44

Chapter Title: Stepping Stones (3)

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That evening, I posted a request on the dark web for Edrila's case files. I only needed one file, but I asked for two years' worth of incident files mixed in at random.

Just in case I didn't want to arouse any suspicion.

The cost was exactly 10,000 DP.

The dark web completed the request in nearly three hours, sending over all murder and death incident records from the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠past three years in file form.

"What was it again..."

There were a ridiculous number of them, but I didn't need to sift through each one.

I closed my eyes for a moment and pulled up past memories from my Notebook. Suddenly, the file number for a specific incident lodged in my mind.

"This is it."

Out of countless murder and death cases, this was the one Soliet needed.

UNON meant an underworld incident, 2012 was the year, and 19,281 was the case number. The 19,281st murder or death in the underworld that year.

"How the hell did she find this?"

I had to admire it anew. Not me—Soliet.

Under the assumption that 'if Nightmare hadn't died, they would have definitely killed at least one more person while alive,' pre-regression Soliet had combed through every murder case across all years from the fake Nightmare's imprisonment to the present, with near-mad obsession and tenacity. That was the evidence she'd uncovered.

I still couldn't fathom what kind of mindset had driven her to stare at and analyze hundreds of thousands of corpses.

"...Hm."

A case file where not even the victim was identified, let alone the killer. The underworld was a place where hundreds died daily, but this corpse was different.

Not just that its body was mangled beyond recognition with countless wounds, but the fact that every single wound type was unique.

"A total of 73 wounds. Not a single duplicate among them, and no traces of mana."

Did that mean some lunatic had used 73 different weapons to kill one person?

I still wondered about it even now.

How pissed off was Nightmare to mangle a body like this?

Anyway.

This corpse was definitely Nightmare's handiwork. But that didn't mean Nightmare carried 73 weapons around. No sane person swaps weapons 73 times mid-kill.

Sure, someone might carry around 30 or so, but 73 was just unrealistic.

In other words, these 73 distinct wounds were Nightmare's Spectrum.

"Ugh."

I got to my feet. I planned to head to the library and print out this case file.

It'd be more satisfying to hand over a physical copy than a digital file.

Monday morning.

Taeheom's wounds hadn't fully healed yet, but it was the first day of week three for the College Board.

"Ah, I'm beat."

In my temporary quarters in the old building, I prodded at sore spots on my body as I woke up.

Mana University entrance exams. Now that I'd experienced them firsthand, I got it—the schedule was downright murderous. Not sure if it was because I was like a cancer patient or what, but I was exhausted as hell.

No wonder dropout rates beat failure rates.

"...Still a long way to go before I'm fully grown."

I checked my condition in the mirror. I'd grown about two centimeters in three weeks, but I still had a ways to go. To think I'd have to endure this damn growing pain for another half year.

On the flip side, unlike my scrawny pre-regression self, I'd packed on some flesh and muscle. Thanks to nonstop meat consumption. With my carb-protein-fat intake skewed toward protein, I'd end up with better bones than before.

"Let's go..."

I stepped out of my quarters. After chugging a protein shake on the way, I arrived at Cleam Hall.

But right in front of the hall doors, I ran into a familiar face. My client—Soliet.

Per our contract, she pretended not to know me and entered the hall. I did the same.

"Wah, Solin high~"

"Yes."

"Gasp?!"

Soliet returned Rae's greeting, and Rae was shocked that her greeting got returned.

Anyway, Cleam Hall had even fewer people than last week.

According to last night's notice, exactly 80. That meant two full teams had dropped from the team project.

"...No way. When's that Sion punk gonna die?"

"Right? Cockroach bastard."

Kain and Esher glared over while muttering. I shot back with a laugh in my voice.

"Give it a generous fifteen years."

"What're you saying, you bug?"

Creak— The front doors of the hall slid open. I hurried to my seat.

"Good to see you."

The usual Jedric.

"Before we start the assignment, a quick announcement."

He placed a stack of papers on the lectern.

"This Wednesday's College Board is a special activity. Job experience."

Special activity. Not a core College Board assignment, but slack off and you'd get dinged—P/F (Pass/Fail) class style.

"I'll distribute forms. Fill in your top three choices, from first to third preference. If you strike out on all, you'll be randomly assigned to wherever manpower's short. For your reference."

Jedric sent the papers floating out with telekinesis. I caught one and read it smoothly.

The list of available jobs included knight orders, prisons, police stations, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠congressional police, magic towers, nationally certified mercenary corps, shops, agencies, graduate schools, security details, and more.

Most would go for knight orders and magic towers first, with congressional police or certified mercs as second or third.

I had no interest in those.

But...

Prison.

For some reason, prison caught my eye.

I didn't know which one, but the continent's most infamous was Recordak, hands down.

Specifically, Recordak I through XIII.

Higher numbers meant harsher conditions and worse criminals. The capital's Recordak was Recordak I.

If it was Recordak, then the person I'd owed a huge debt to in my past life would be imprisoned there.

I could meet him again.

I wrote in prison.

Sure, it might not be Recordak but some other joint. Whatever.

You never know, right?

"You have five seconds. 5, 4, 3, 2..."

For the rest, I scribbled knight order and magic tower at random.

That should land me the prison slot pretty reliably. No one else would pick prison first.

"1."

The papers flew back to Jedric instantly.

"Also, today's College Board assignment will be handled by 'Shelton' from the Magic Tower."

Shelton... Shelton.

Wait, Shelton?

No way—the Shelton I knew?

"Come in."

As Jedric spoke, all 80 gazes turned to the front doors. A repulsive man in a white coat slithered in with a greasy smile.

"You can rest now, Sir Jedric."

"Thanks for your work."

He took Jedric's place at the lectern like a shift change. I stared at him blankly.

Unbelievable. I let out a hollow laugh.

"Hello. I'm Shelton, a magic tower mage from the Magical Engineering Division and chief researcher."

I knew the guy.

Clean-cut on the surface, dressed like some scientist or doctor in that coat, but a money-obsessed bug through and through.

"I'll be handling this Monday and Friday's assignments."

A Magic Tower mouthpiece, a true-blue gold worshiper who threw morals, ethics, means, and methods out the window for cash.

"First time as instructor, so I might be rough around the edges, but no worries on the evaluation front."

In all my life, I'd never seen anyone as money-mad as him—yet he'd lived large right up to my dying breath.

Hell, he even built a theme park named after himself, and it was a massive hit.

A living specimen proving that virtue doesn't always triumph.

"First, before the assignment. Do you all know what enchantment is?"

Shelton flashed his teeth in a grin. A faint blue glow clung to them.

Mana-enchanted grills. Like dentures you wear over your gums.

They supposedly made food taste better and breath smell nice. Probably cost at least a million ren.

An entire apartment in his mouth. I'd love to rip them out and sell 'em.

"Imbuing mana formulas or mana spell formulas onto ordinary objects."

The answer came from Elise, naturally.

"Correct. Many confuse it with artifacts, but enchantment is different. Artifacts are the pinnacle of technique, mana, and engineering. Even once-cutting-edge items become obsolete in a flash. Enchantment, on the other hand, is antique."

Enchantment was one of the Magic Tower's pet research fields.

Why?

Money. Insanely, ridiculously, monstrously so.

"There's no such thing as an outdated enchantment. Just classics."

I hated the Magic Tower. Their antics—if they saw themselves as rational—were downright sociopathic, emotions stripped away. And yet they were obsessed with cash.

Probably no one on the continent liked the Magic Tower. Even their own mages despised the upper echelons.

"Today's assignment is 'Mana Capacity Evaluation I.' Show us your mana aptitude, your talent and drive for creation."

Clap clap—

He clapped, and the doors opened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as white-coated researchers poured in.

They set up three bookshelves on the wide lectern and brought boxes rattling with magic stones.

"Here we have various enchantment tomes. Three shelves: advanced, intermediate, and beginner difficulty. Every book here costs over 5,000 ren per volume. Haha."

Shelton smiled whenever he mentioned money.

"These magic stones are all uniform C-grade. About 1,000 ren apiece."

I glanced at the seniors. Plenty of worried faces at the word "enchantment."

And rightly so—enchantment was university-level stuff.

"No need to fret too much. Compared to what pro enchanters do, this is dead simple. Mana formulas, not spell formulas. See? Purifiers, heaters, compasses, fans... All standalone enchantments of zero independent value. What can you do with 5,000 ren anyway? Haha."

Shelton chuckled thinly and continued.

"Anyway, any object will do."

The pure mana-related skill assessment I'd half-expected someday.

But why'd it have to be this bastard in charge?

"From 9:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Enchant whatever object you want however you want!"

The 80 seniors surged forward to the lectern in a rush.