Chapter 45
#045. Where Malice Gathers (2)
"I don't understand what you're saying. Isn't fighting and winning the only way to achieve victory in such situations?"
The old man smiled.
He said there was no need to force understanding—time would eventually make things clear.
The conversation about gray mana continued a while longer.
"Still, I believe you'll develop this magic in your own way. Even with identical elemental mana combinations, the resulting magic differs entirely based on its user."
Ray nodded in agreement.
He was already brainstorming combat applications for gray mana.
Creating replacement weapons when daggers shattered.
Launching sharp stone shards through wind currents.
'Maybe make stones erupt from the ground to trip opponents.'
True to his belief that offense trumped defense, these violent ideas came most naturally.
The drawback lay in his ring's current mana composition—producing substantial gray mana remained impossible.
Atmospheric gray mana proved equally troublesome, resisting quick gathering or blending.
Perhaps future circumstances might change things.
But for now.
Small tools and structures would have to suffice.
The old man continued explaining each element's properties within Ray's ring.
"Enhancement element users primarily boost physical capabilities for close combat."
This element dominated red mana.
"Regeneration elements heal wounds. Skilled mages can accelerate recovery from any injury."
"......"
"Barrier elements form defensive walls."
These two comprised white mana's core.
"These are the established uses for those elements. As for weakening elements..."
The old man paused to collect himself.
"...they're among the rarest. I've never met a mage specializing in them. They're said to oppose enhancement elements, but I lack concrete knowledge."
The old man demonstrated enhancement and healing magic effortlessly—his circle contained traces of those elements.
Though Ray had already discovered these applications independently, the theoretical framework deepened his understanding.
But no weakening element existed in the old man's circle.
"So I must discover its uses myself?"
"Correct."
Ray felt no particular regret.
Weakening element.
Pink mana tied to sorrow.
He never intended to use it anyway.
"Can a circle's elemental ratio change?"
"Normally, the initial composition remains fixed..."
The old man trailed off, acutely aware this boy defied normality.
'His first circle contains every existing element. The proportions differ, but it's like he transplanted atmospheric mana itself.'
Theoretically impossible.
Elements possessed inherent compatibilities—some fused harmoniously while others repelled violently.
Creating intense repulsion.
Triggering explosions.
Thus, housing all elements in a circle's confined space should be unachievable.
Yet here stood living proof.
Ordinary people couldn't comprehend genius.
Uncertainty prevented definitive answers.
"The elemental ratio stays as first formed."
While the old man pondered, Ray wrestled with frustration.
'...I wish I could reduce the pink mana percentage.'
That would fill the ring's vacancies with useful colors.
Useless mana hues were no better than scrap metal.
As he brooded, shallow breathing echoed ahead.
Looking up, he found the old man asleep.
Ray checked his watch, then grabbed the notebook and pen from the desk.
At the bottom of densely filled records, he noted today's date and time.
"...1 hour, 56 minutes, 42 seconds."
After replacing the items, Ray recalled Veronica's request—he'd been documenting these one-on-one sessions recently.
The old man's waking hours had decreased by 3 minutes 36 seconds from yesterday.
Following Veronica's example, Ray settled the old man properly in bed and drew the blanket to his chest.
Returning to his seat, he studied the peacefully sleeping figure.
Apart from the faint chest movements, the man resembled a corpse.
He'd sleep through till morning, his conscious intervals gradually shortening until eternal slumber claimed him.
'His death approaches.'
Though resembling natural causes, Somnus-induced death felt unsettling.
Natural deaths themselves were rare in lower sectors.
Stabbings.
Diseases.
Mine collapses.
Starvation. Freezing.
Time's universal allocation created illusions of fairness.
Reality differed.
Lower sector residents rarely exhausted their allotted time.
'I've never seen it.'
In Sector 50, witnessing someone live out their full lifespan—
Ray quietly exited the room.
Downstairs, he approached Veronica organizing books.
"Grandfather?"
"Fell asleep."
"I see."
"1 hour, 56 minutes, 42 seconds."
"Shorter than yesterday."
Veronica's face darkened.
Her vessel now held worry-shaped white mana, lacking its previous beautiful solar appearance.
'Does it only form suns when she worries about me?'
To see that radiant white sun again, he might need to make her fret over him.
He joined Veronica at the table, ostensibly assisting her circle construction.
"Your mana rotation needs more speed."
"Like this?"
"Faster."
"This much?"
Their "assistance" mainly involved observational comments.
"Faster. Like I'm doing."
"I can't manage that speed."
"Why?"
"Because..."
"Why can't you?"
"......"
"I don't understand your limitation."
Sometimes he provoked genuine irritation.
Veronica briefly considered smacking his head with a book corner.
But recognizing his sincere curiosity, she released her grip.
'Truly bizarre.'
Bizarre. Bizarre. Bizarre.
"I'm not being helpful. You should review writing or read instead."
"No! Stay! Watch me!"
Veronica desperately wanted him nearby.
Having maintained the bookstore nearly alone, the girl craved companionship.
A peer's presence provided immeasurable comfort.
After circle attempts came lessons.
"Understood this part?"
"Yep. Move on."
Progress remained unimpeded.
Post-lesson lunches included Yulphin, Molta, and two others.
Clink. Clink.
Having heard street rumors, the children's wary eyes now sparkled with admiration.
"They say you're a gang leader! True?"
"Miss Rayni! Don't address him so casually! Call him Hunter-nim!"
At this hero-worshipping age, they idolized Ray's masculinity and strength.
"Big sis overprotects us! Thinks we're crybabies like her!"
"But she goes dumb if you call her pretty! Use that next fight!"
"Right. Women."
Thud! Thud!
"Waaah! I'll tell Grandpa!"
"Weeeh! Sis hit me!"
They fled upstairs after Veronica's beatings, returning minutes later unscathed.
"What do you think of our sister?"
"You're not dating, right? Not while I draw breath—"
Crash! Crash!
"Waaah!"
"Weeeh!"
After meals, Ray always handed Veronica bills.
"What's this?"
"Meal costs."
"......"
She hated accepting money but knew arguments proved futile.
It was because she had already figured out Ray's tendency to never back down from what he believed was right.
Ugh—
She said with a sigh.
"I'll keep it saved for now. Let me know if you need it later. I’ll pay you back."
Though hurt by Ray’s excessively meticulous calculations, she also felt a competitive spark.
‘Does this mean we’re still not close enough?’
As she maintained this distance, the girl’s eyes—flames as vivid as her hair color—blazed while staring at the boy.
She vowed to someday make the word "friend" escape his lips first.
Ding—
After meals, they opened the bookstore.
No customers came on the first two days, but by the third day, rumors of their resumed business spread, bringing back regular patrons one by one.
"Welcome!"
"Mr. Belfo! Long time no see!"
Veronica and her two siblings greeted customers with practiced ease, steadily handling backlogged tasks.
Occasionally, vagrants peered into the store muttering, "What’s this place…?"
But they all slunk away after locking eyes with Ray, who sat reading at a table.
It was a primal instinct—
The danger-sensing ability of those surviving day-to-day on the streets.
"L-Let’s just go."
"Y-Yeah. Right."
However young or small he appeared, their instincts screamed not to ignore this predator’s warning.
Ray kept vigil like a sentinel until evening, then headed to the hotel.
"Here! Your cut from today’s earnings. Calculated to the last decimal per our contract. Here’s the ledger."
"Looks right."
He received his daily pouch from Philip before meeting Cedric.
"Today, Melber and Hidel were on 20th Street…"
After hearing reports of unusual incidents, Ray took him to a vacant lot to teach combat techniques.
By nightfall, the boy walked past moonlit scrap piles to sleep in a junkyard car’s scratched driver’s seat, mentally reviewing plans until consciousness drowned in sleep.
*
Sector 49. Northern Junkyard.
1:58 PM under a hazy sun.
Two boys stood before a skeletal factory ruin.
"Th-This’ll work… right?"
One boy couldn’t hide his anxiety.
"No worries. Just perform your role as instructed."
The other replied calmly.
At 2:00 PM sharp—
Scuff.
Footsteps made them turn.
A coat-clad man approached rapidly from the junkyard’s edge.
‘Stay calm, Cedric! Just act as Ray said.’
Cedric breathed deeply, unconsciously fiddling with the returned ring on his finger—now stripped of its enhancement and exploitation magic by Ray and the elder.
「The spells weren’t particularly refined.」the elder had noted. 「Amateur work—like hammering nails with brute force.」
Red and black mana had smoked from the ring before dissolving into colored motes—a spectacle that astonished Ray, who’d never considered mana decomposition.
"Relax," Ray told the jittery Cedric. "You’ve met him before. Act natural. Nail this, and there’s a reward."
Reward.
The word melted Cedric’s tension.
"I’ll give my all. Teach me the next technique tonight."
He’d fully accepted his role.
「Wearing that ring… I wasn’t myself. Exhausted, angry at trifles—my mind unraveling.」
Now freed from its mental erosion, gratitude and loyalty toward Ray rooted deeply.
Cedric had quickly mastered joint locks, pinning larger opponents within days.
「I… won?」He’d stared dumbfounded at his immobilized sparring partner.
「Aaah! I yield! Let go!」
The screams jolted him to reality. Trembling with exhilaration, tears welled as he rasped,
「I won.」
Back in the vacant lot, he mumbled, 「But how? I’m weak without the ring…」
"Size and strength help," Ray answered, 「but combat isn’t just power. You endured—that’s why you won.」
Cedric’s face crumpled.
Sobs burst forth—
"Th-Thank you…"
—for validation of his efforts, for imagined comfort patting his hardships. Ray watched blankly, uncomprehending.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
As the man neared, Ray whispered reminders:
"If asked who I am—"
"Say I’m the new lieutenant."
"If attacked—"
"Flee to the hotel and execute orders."
Cedric replied swiftly. Though clueless about the man’s motives or Ray’s plans, one truth burned:
‘Repaying Ray is non-negotiable.’
With a deep breath, Cedric marched forward and bowed sharply.
"Long time no see, Teacher!"
His lowered gaze fixed on the man’s shoes—premium leather but torn, scuffed, and singed like a vagrant’s.
Why hadn’t he noticed before? No high-ranking syndicate member would wear such disgrace.
…The ring’s broken magic had veiled reality.
"Enough greetings. Look at me, Cedric."
The metallic voice above made him straighten.
"Growing confident, I see. Conviction shows in one’s bearing."
The man’s eyes glowed unnaturally, smile stretching ear-to-ear—familiar yet newly terrifying.
"All thanks to your cure, Teacher."
"Obviously. How’s your group?"
"Expanding since last—"
"Wait."
The man’s gaze swept the derelict lot.
"Explain this venue first. Did I come to the wrong place?"
"N-No, let me—"
"No, no, no."
His head snapped toward Ray.
"Who’s that?"
Their eyes locked.
