Chapter 69: Artificial Emotions (3)
The photo was blurry, making identification difficult.
However, two distinct features of the figure standing upright were clearly visible: blue skin and a blue gem embedded in its forehead.
It’s not the one I saw before.
Though the skin color matched, the creature he’d encountered in the wilderness hadn’t possessed a forehead gem.
A thought emerged after a moment.
“Is this a doctored photo?”
“Yes. Correct. You’re as sharp as ever. We hired a specialist to recreate Rockdear’s appearance based on the old man’s descriptions.”
“That must’ve cost a fortune.”
“Naturally. But significant investments are necessary to reap rewards.”
Skyle radiated confidence, certain the photo would lure John out of the hotel.
“The old man’s obsession with this imaginary Rockdear surpasses all reason. He’s even hired mercenary groups other than ours in the past.”
He added,
“Despite appearances, I’m adept at manipulating human desires. Someone like him is easy prey.”
The story held little interest for Ray. His only question was—
“What’s my cut if the plan succeeds?”
“You’ll receive 10% of the total funds in John’s account.”
Ray remained silent.
John hastily interjected, “13... no, 14...? 15% at most! But no higher. I have to account for my subordinates’ shares too...”
His desperate attempts to protect his own portion were palpable.
In truth, Ray didn’t care about the percentage. John had neither harmed him nor shown hostility.
It violates my principles.
What he received, he repaid—whether through gratitude or retribution. He couldn’t harm others unless attacked first or compelled by special circumstances.
Still, saving funds for the mage city’s entrance fee remained a sensible plan.
Ray’s gaze fell on the card labeled Bank Ignis, Skyle’s name embossed in small letters beneath it.
“Fine. I accept your proposal.”
Early the next morning, outside Ray’s inn.
“Hey, don’t push me, punk!”
“Don’t kid yourself—I got here first!”
Five street urchins shoved and bickered—leaders of gangs controlling nearby districts.
“Tsk. Order doesn’t matter. It’s the quality of your intel that counts.”
“Bullshit! Scared your tiny turf means crappy data?”
“This isn’t a one-off! You’ll report every morning!”
Bang!
The door swung open, silencing the commotion.
Instinctive fear flooded the urchins’ vessels the moment they saw who emerged.
“How diligent,” Ray remarked, scanning the gang leaders. “The appointed time is still 20 minutes away.”
He retrieved Philip from the inn.
“Huh? Already? I wasn’t mentally prepared— Oh.”
Ray had to leave early for his meeting with Skyle, leaving Philip to handle the reports.
“Um... did everyone... eat breakfast?”
Philip stammered before the wiry, sharp-featured urchins. With Ray absent, their earlier timidity vanished.
This is how they should react to us.
They should tremble just looking at me—the Bloody Monkey Wrench of 13th Street!
Right. That white-haired guy’s the weird one.
They glared fiercely, trying to reclaim wounded pride.
“S-sirs... haha... Bad morning?”
Philip’s attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.
Observing the emotional currents in their vessels, Ray approached and whispered:
“Stand firm. Don’t let them sense weakness. If they view you as prey, they’ll devour you.”
While staying by Philip’s side was ideal, physical constraints made it impossible. Philip needed to adapt.
“You can do this.”
“......”
“See yourself as their superior.”
“Superior...?”
“You’re the supervisor. They’re mere subcontractors. You hold the authority.”
“Authority...”
“To inspect their work and penalize even minor mistakes.”
Philip nodded slowly, fear in his vessel fading as confidence swelled.
“Alright. I’ll try.”
Ray departed, leaving Philip in charge. Ten steps away, he heard:
“You call this intel?! Your notes are so useless even hobos wouldn’t burn them!”
The advice had worked—though perhaps too well.
I should’ve directly injected courage into his vessel.
After yesterday’s meeting with Skyle, Ray had spent hours experimenting with emotional manipulation, neglecting sector exploration.
Wow! Ray lounged at the inn while we sweated!
He must’ve had reasons.
True.
Why so quick to agree?
He’s not wrong.
Though minor chaos ensued, meaningful conclusions emerged:
Not all vessels could receive artificial emotions.
Philip and Veronica were exceptions, though the criteria remained unclear.
Injected emotion types and quantities were limited.
Only existing emotions could be amplified, up to half the vessel’s capacity.
The process was exhausting.
Mental fatigue left him drained after a single session, though practice might improve efficiency.
Self-infused mana remained impossible.
Broadening his emotional spectrum required lived experience.
Tap— tap—
Ray halted mid-step and turned.
“Did you need something?”
A coat-clad man emerged from behind a utility pole—Michael.
“Impressive... You detected my stealth magic instantly.”
“Stealth magic?”
“A basic spell from the Magic Tower. It erases footsteps and blends one’s presence. You’re clearly not a Tower graduate.”
Michael deactivated and reactivated the spell, multicolored mana layers clinging to his skin.
“Normally, people wouldn’t notice unless...”
His pupils dilated as Ray replicated the spell flawlessly—no, surpassed it.
“How?! You asked what stealth magic was moments ago!”
Ray’s superior version induced cognitive dissonance—visible yet mentally unfathomable.
“Why are you following me?”
“I— This is absurd...”
After muttering in shock, Michael composed himself.
“Apologies. I didn’t mean to stalk you. I sought answers.”
He explained his confusion over Ray’s hotel lightning magic, which had lacked a detectable mana circle.
“Using ambient mana,” Ray clarified.
“Unrefined ambient mana?!”
Michael’s voice wavered.
Crackle! Zap!
Sparks filled the air as Ray demonstrated, no circle required.
“This... This scale...”
Michael stared dumbfounded. Casting spells with ambient mana was like molding hardening cement—possible in tiny amounts for emergencies, but Ray had flooded the area.
“...Yes. I sensed your circle during stealth magic, but not now.”
Decades of magical study crumbled before him.
How? Even Tower professors can’t manipulate ambient mana like this.
Awed reverence filled Michael’s vessel.
Silently, Ray blended ambient mana into a vivid purple hue—the color of respect—and sent it soaring toward its target.
