I sat in the back of the mana-limousine, the leather seats humming with a gentle warming enchantment. I pulled the obsidian smartphone from my pocket and swiped my thumb across the screen.
The banking app flickered to life, reflecting a number that would make most world leaders weep.
Current Balance: 50,000,000,000 Credits.
I leaned back, a small, cold smirk playing on my lips. In my previous life, I stressed over the price of a bus ticket. Now, I had enough liquid capital to buy a mid-sized kingdom and still have enough left over for a private island.
In this world of Eternal Sword, mana is the primary source of power, but people often forget the truth. Money is just a second mana pool.
With enough credits, you can buy the best potions, the highest-grade artifacts, and the most fanatical loyalty. You don't need to spend decades meditating in a cave if you can simply purchase the cave and everyone inside it.
"We are entering the Lower District, Young Master," the butler's voice crackled through the intercom. "I suggest you keep the windows tinted. The view is... unseemly."
I pressed a button, and the obsidian glass shifted from opaque to a one-way transparency. Outside, the world changed instantly.
The gleaming glass towers of the Vayne Corp headquarters were replaced by crumbling concrete, rusted pipes, and narrow, soot-stained streets. This was the Black Market—the Slums of the capital.
The luxury mana-limousine looked like a sleek, black shark cruising through a puddle of stagnant water. It was an offensive display of wealth in a place where people sold their organs for a week's worth of mana crystals.
The residents stopped what they were doing to stare. I saw the familiar cocktail of emotions in their eyes: bone-deep fear, simmering envy, and a desperate, pathetic hope that a stray credit might fall from the car's exhaust.
I watched them with total indifference. To a pragmatic villain, these people weren't even background characters; they were part of the scenery.
The car pulled to a stop in front of a tilted, sagging building with a sign that hung by a single rusted chain: The Dusty Relic.
I stepped out of the car. My bespoke, enchanted suit didn't just look expensive; it emitted a faint, repelling field that kept the grime of the street from even touching my shoes.
The air here smelled of wet iron and desperation. I ignored the beggars huddled in the shadows and walked toward the door.
The interior of the shop was even worse than the exterior. It was a labyrinth of shelves overflowing with junk—broken mana lamps, rusted daggers, and "ancient" scrolls that were clearly just tea-stained parchment.
An old man with skin like yellowed parchment and eyes cloudy with cataracts looked up from the counter. His gaze swept over my silver hair and red eyes, and I saw the greed ignite in his pupils like a flame.
"Ah, a noble patron!" he croaked, rubbing his spindly hands together. "Welcome, welcome to my humble establishment. You have a keen eye, Young Master. Might I interest you in the Blade of Azure Flame? It was forged in the heart of a volcano!"
He pulled out a gaudy, glowing sword that looked like it belonged in a child's toy box. It was a low-grade fake, worth maybe ten credits, but he was probably going to ask for ten thousand.
"Save your breath, old man," I said, my voice cutting through his sales pitch like a cold blade. "I'm not here for your trash."
I walked past him, my eyes scanning the room. In the game Eternal Sword, the protagonist Kaelen is supposed to come here tonight. He's supposed to be "led by destiny" to a specific corner of this dump.
I found it near the back. A "discount bin" filled with literal scrap—bent nails, cracked glass, and dull iron.
I reached in and pulled out a heavy, rusted iron ring. To any normal person, it looked like a piece of plumbing hardware.
But I knew better. This was the [Ring of Shadows (S-Rank)].
In the original timeline, Kaelen finds this "by luck" while looking for a cheap gift for a friend. It becomes his primary stealth tool, allowing him to bypass high-level guards and assassinate bosses. In his hands, it was a tool for justice.
In mine? It would be the foundation of an assassination empire. With this, I could walk into the bedrooms of my enemies, slice their throats, and leave before their blood hit the sheets.
The moment my fingers closed around the cold, gritty metal, a notification pinged in my mind.
[S-Rank Item Detected. Plunder Successful.]
A surge of cold energy traveled up my arm, confirming the system's appraisal. I felt the ring's true power humming beneath the rust, waiting for a master.
"That? You want that old thing?" The shopkeeper hurried over, looking confused. "It's just junk, Young Master. If you like the style, I have a platinum ring set with—"
"How much for the bin?" I interrupted.
The old man blinked. "The... the bin? But it's just scrap metal, sir. Maybe five credits for the weight?"
I reached into the inner pocket of my coat and pulled out a heavy, embroidered bag. I dropped it onto the counter with a thud that echoed through the small shop.
The sound of clinking gold was the most beautiful music in the world to a man like him.
"I'm buying the whole bin. And the shelf it's sitting on. And every other piece of 'junk' in this corner," I said, my voice dripping with dominance. "Keep the change."
The shopkeeper's jaw practically hit the floor as he peered into the bag. It contained enough gold to buy his shop ten times over.
"Y-yes! Of course! Right away, Excellency!" He began bowing so frantically I thought his head might pop off. "I will have it all crated and delivered to your carriage immediately!"
"Don't bother," I said, sliding the Ring of Shadows into my pocket. "Consider the rest a donation to the trash heap."
As I turned to leave, the bell above the door chimed. A young man pushed his way inside, his breath coming in ragged gasps as if he had run all the way here.
He had generic, messy brown hair and eyes that were far too "innocent" for a place like this. His clothes were worn, patched at the elbows, and he looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in a week.
It was Kaelen. The "Hero." The "Child of Destiny."
Right now, he looked pathetic. He looked like the kind of person I would have shared a bus with in my old life, and that realization only made me despise him more.
Kaelen didn't even notice me at first. His eyes were fixed on the back of the shop, specifically on the corner where I had just been standing.
He walked toward the empty space where the discount bin used to be. His "hopeful" eyes darted around, searching for something he couldn't quite name—a pull of destiny that was no longer there.
He looked at the empty shelf, then at the shopkeeper, his expression crumbling into one of pure devastation. He looked like a dog that had been kicked for no reason.
"Is... is there a bin that was here?" Kaelen asked, his voice trembling. "A bin with iron scraps?"
The shopkeeper, still clutching my bag like a lifeline, cackled cruelly. "Gone, kid! This noble gentleman just bought the lot. Every last scrap. Now scram—you're blocking the light for my best customer!"
Kaelen turned his gaze toward me. Our eyes met—his watery and confused, mine red and cold.
I didn't say a word. I didn't need to. I could see the "Protagonist's Luck" flickering out in his aura, replaced by a growing sense of despair.
I walked toward the exit, my path taking me directly past him. As I reached his side, I didn't move an inch to avoid him. I walked straight through his personal space, bumping my shoulder into his with enough force to send him stumbling back against a dusty cabinet.
Kaelen steadied himself, knuckles white. His mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came—only a choked, helpless sound.
"Watch where you're standing, trash," I said softly, not even bothering to look back.
As I stepped past him and into the cool night air, a satisfying notification rang in my mind.
[ Minor Plunder Complete: Ring of Shadows (S-Rank) ]
[ Destiny Points +500 ]
[ Face-Slap Multiplier Activated (Public Humiliation): +300 Bonus DP ]
[ Total DP Earned: 800 ]
[ New Skill Unlocked: Basic Shadow Step (Preview) ]
I smiled. Delicious.
The 72-hour clock was still ticking, but the Hero was already one step behind. And in my world, one step is the difference between a throne and a grave.