Chapter 120
The torches in the underground passage lost their light. The smell of burning mingled with the stale air below.
Darkened vision.
The iron bars too.
The young ladies too.
Aurora too.
Murdock too.
Everything vanished into pitch-black darkness, as if submerged in ink.
“W-what is this!”
“Who turned off the lights?”
“An ambush?”
Shouts full of panic erupted from all around.
The gang members who had been mocking the frightened young ladies just moments ago now flailed about in a pathetic scramble.
Some of them couldn't move a muscle.
Some of them drew weapons.
In that pitch-black darkness where one couldn't see an inch ahead, a streak of light cut through.
“Ghk!”
A single groan.
Then a body collapsed onto the floor.
-Thud.
“What?”
“Who got hit—ugh!”
Another person tipped over into the darkness.
“Damn it!”
Someone swung their blade wildly, as if trying to shake off their fear.
-Squelch!
“Aagh! What the hell? Which bastard just stabbed me?”
“It wasn't me! You jumped in out of nowhere!”
“It was you, you bastard!”
“Don't swing your sword around on your own! We could end up stabbing each other!”
“I already got stabbed, idiot!”
The gang members’ shouts tangled together.
They swung their weapons at the enemy and ended up stabbing a comrade in the arm, or ducked from the onrushing crowd only to slam their heads into the iron bars.
-Bang!
“Kyaaaaaaah!”
“Moooom!”
When the iron bars rattled violently, the young ladies inside let out screams.
Those beside one another clung to each other. One young lady had even flopped flat on the floor and covered her ears.
“Ugh….”
Bran instinctively backed away and pressed his back to the wall.
Something caught at his toe.
He couldn't see it.
But he could tell what it was.
That the comrade who had been standing beside him a moment ago was now sprawled on the floor.
'Damn it. What the hell is there?'
There was definitely something there.
But he couldn't tell what it was.
He couldn't see anything, and all he could hear were his comrades' screams.
Yet the unknown enemy seemed to see perfectly even in the darkness, casually picking off the gang members one by one.
It felt like being a beast trapped in a lightless cage, hunted by a predator.
His heart felt like it would burst.
-Jingle.
In the blackout, where screams alone rang out.
Bran and the rest of the gang heard the sound they loved most in the world.
It was the sound of coins clinking together.
“How noisy.”
It was Murdock.
Even in the unseen darkness, he skillfully rolled the coin in his hand.
“Boss! It's an ambush! Someone's here!”
“Don't make a fuss.”
-Jingle.
Murdock rolled the gold coin.
“Because things of value don't lose their shine even in the dark.”
With those words.
-Crack.
The gold coin split in his grip.
What broke was metal, but what spilled out was light.
Yellow mana seeped out through the coin's cracks.
At first, like fine fissures.
Soon, like molten gold.
A sticky, greedy radiance spread from Murdock's fingertips.
-Drip.
The light fell to the floor.
The golden light splashed like droplets and spread thinly across the floor.
One strand.
Two strands.
Soon it began to flow along the underground passage as if molten gold had been poured out.
The darkness was pushed back.
It didn't disappear completely.
Only retreated to the corners, pushed back by the gentle wave of golden light.
The iron bars were revealed.
The blood-soaked floor was revealed.
The fallen gang members were revealed.
And then.
“So it was you.”
A man who hadn't been there before now stood revealed in the middle of the carnage.
Jet-black hair.
Golden eyes as if they had been cast from gold itself.
He was a man with a rough restraint collar around his neck, and it was striking.
“Y-you're that slave from earlier?”
Bran had seen him before.
Of course he had—he was the slave who had begged him for money on the way here.
“Slave, why are you here?”
The slave—Leon—flicked the gold coin with a finger.
“You said it yourself. If you give me something once, I'll keep clinging to you.”
-Whirl.
The gold coin spun through the air for more than a dozen turns before settling softly into Leon's hand.
“You gave me a gold coin because I begged, so of course I had to come. Right?”
Leon walked over to the iron bars where Aurora stood, moved the man lying on the floor aside, and closed the door.
“Leon.”
“I'll be done in no time, so please stay inside and make yourselves comfortable. If you get bored, calm the startled young ladies.”
“……All right.”
Since Aurora had nothing she could do anyway, she obediently stepped back.
Leon stood directly in front of Murdock.
Murdock also slowly sized up Leon standing before him.
“Strange.”
“What is?”
“On the surface, you are unquestionably a slave...”
Everyone has their own value. Especially slaves—they ought to have a price attached to their bodies.
How much they can be bought for, and how much they can be sold for.
What use they can be put to, and to whom they should be sold to fetch the highest price.
Murdock saw people that way.
It was a habit.
No, it was closer to instinct.
But the man before him was different.
He couldn't assign a price to him. It wasn't because he was cheap.
Quite the opposite.
His value was so great that putting him on the scale at all was impossible.
Even if you added together all the young ladies trapped inside the iron bars, they were worth less than the single slave standing before him.
Impossible.
“What are you?”
“Can't you tell by looking? I'm a slave.”
“Looks like you don't want to say. It doesn't matter.”
Murdock took out another gold coin and crushed it.
-Crunch.
Tiny fragments of the shattered coin scattered from Murdock's fingertips.
The small shards gathered in the air.
Like the remnants of stars fallen from the night sky.
“If you don't want to talk, I'll just make you talk.”
Murdock gave his wrist a light flick.
-Whoosh!
The golden shards screamed sharply as they rushed toward Leon.
Dozens of golden trajectories reflected in Leon's eyes.
Leon gave a flick of his hand.
-Clack.
A dagger that had fallen to the floor clattered. It had been the blade just used by one of the gang members moments ago.
It shot up into the air as if snagged by an invisible thread.
It slipped neatly into Leon's grasp.
And then.
He gave his wrist a light shake.
It was only a single dagger in his hand, yet it moved as if it were dozens of blades.
-Clang-clang-clang!
Every shard that struck the dagger lost its course and ricocheted away.
They embedded themselves in the wall and scraped the ceiling.
Golden sparks flew across the floor.
The shower of gold Murdock had unleashed was shredded to pieces right in front of Leon's nose.
-Rattle.
A shard of gold rolled at Murdock's feet.
Leon casually spun the dagger.
“Burning gold before the opening skirmish? You're making a very loud show of how rich you are.”
“I was merely checking whether you were worth the price.”
“And the appraisal result?”
Murdock clenched his fist.
“You'll be cleaned out.”
With those words, the ruby set in the ring on his index finger cracked open. Red radiance poured out.
A light darker than blood and murkier than fire. It crawled up Murdock's arm and wrapped around his whole body.
The sapphire on his middle finger shattered. The gem turned into blue mist and circled around Murdock.
The topaz on his ring finger crumbled.
A layer of golden rings overlaid Murdock's pupils.
“A spell that uses wealth as a sacrifice.”
“You're quick on the uptake.”
Leon saw through Murdock's ability at once.
Value conversion.
A magic that uses wealth as a medium to exchange for power proportional to the value contained within it.
“What an incredibly vulgar ability.”
If you're rich, you don't need to study.
That's just how the world works.
Only, Murdock's power was far too blatant.
Effort.
Talent.
Time.
He priced them all, placed them on the scale, and burned them away. Then he gained power.
No matter how skilled you are, it's a magic you can't use if you're impoverished.
“Vulgar, you say.”
Murdock slowly lifted the corners of his lips.
“An interesting judgment. Of the most honest power in the world.”
“Honest?”
“Isn't that right? Everyone has a price. Swordsmanship has a price, magic has a price, even life has a price. I merely pay the price and gain power.”
Swallow a gold coin, and it becomes magic.
Break a gem, and the body grows stronger.
Burn a magic tool, and power takes root.
If skill is lacking, buy it. If effort is a hassle, pay the price.
That was how this man had lived.
“The problem is that the price is someone else's life.”
It was obvious enough without even asking how Murdock had built his fortune.
He talked all polished and smooth for someone who grew stronger by selling people.
“Just because money is stained with blood doesn't mean its value disappears.”
By then, Murdock had burned through every ring on all ten fingers.
Each one was an ultra-expensive gemstone worth the equivalent of dozens, if not hundreds, of gold coins.
Brilliant halos of light enveloped Murdock.
Though it looked as if he'd simply painted himself in colors, the aura radiating from him was on a completely different level than before.
He had become an entirely different person.
“If anything, money stained with blood is more valuable. It took that much risk and effort.”
Leon laughed, truly disgusted.
“People who see others as objects all talk the same way.”
“As objects?”
-Vwoom.
The golden rings overlaid on Murdock's eyes slowly began to spin.
“Wrong. I don't see people like objects.”
He took a step forward.
-Crack.
Spiderweb-like lines spread out in all directions across the ground.
“People have prices too, and so do things. I merely see the exact value of everything.”
The instant he finished speaking, Murdock's figure vanished.
A speed hard to believe from such a slender frame.
-Clang!
The air screamed a beat later.
One stomp made the underground passage shake as if an earthquake had struck.
In an instant, Murdock closed to within arm's reach of Leon.
-Kreee. Kreeee.
The pair of golden rings etched over his pupils rotated in opposite directions, sweeping over Leon's form.
They caught even the movement of a single strand of Leon's hair and broke it down piece by piece.
Which direction would he dodge?
How much force would he use?
Which movement would he make?
Countless possibilities split into dozens of branches.
Murdock's lips twisted as he seized the most probable outcome.
“I can see it.”
A fist thrust out from beneath his silk sleeve.
-Whoosh!
The air rang under the heavy pressure of his fist.
At the same time, the golden rings spun rapidly once more.
-Kreeeek!
Leon's right foot twitched.
'A rising kick with the right foot.'
But that's fine.
This attack is much faster.
I'll kill him before he can even move.
Murdock was certain of it. That prediction had never been wrong, not even once.
An ability close to precognition.
That was Murdock's true strength—the reason he stood at the very top of the underworld food chain among outlaws.
“Genocide Cutter.”
Until he met Leon.
-Slash!
Leon's foot vanished in an instant.
It shot upward with the speed of a sword being drawn from its sheath.
At the same time.
All the possibilities laid out before Murdock's eyes shattered at once.
'What...?'
Before he could even form the question.
-Thwack!
His jaw snapped upward.
Murdock's vision flipped upside down.
The golden rings shattered.
A breath mixed with blood surged up his throat.
“Ghk!”
Murdock's body floated up into the air and then fell back down.
Dust burst up, and the gold, silver, and jewels tucked inside his clothes rolled out and scattered.
“Kh...hk......”
Murdock couldn't get up.
His lips twisted as if his jaw had gone out of alignment.
“That was... just now...”
“Swordsmanship.”
“It was a kick, so how is that swordsmanship...?”
Leon tilted his head.
“If I say it's swordsmanship, then it's swordsmanship.”
It even has a proper name, too.
Swordsmanship performed with the feet.
Shortened to foot swordsmanship.
“Got a problem with that? Then you try it too.”