Chapter 210: Pocket Retrieval
"Are you absolutely sure you want to compete in magic with me?"
Haruto blinked, genuinely wondering if the ambient noise of the circus had messed with his hearing.
Sure, he had only been practicing his innate abilities for a mere three years. His raw combat power might not be at the absolute pinnacle yet, and there were still a few terrifyingly complex Boundary concepts he hadn't fully mastered. But using the fundamental power of a Boundary Youkai—the ability to manipulate the very fabric of reality—for cheap parlor tricks? That wasn't just a piece of cake; it was an insult to the cake.
He wasn't the only one caught off guard.
Down in the dimly lit audience seating, Kaguya and Youmu exchanged highly subtle, deeply complicated glances. A deep sense of sympathy flickered in their eyes as they looked at the smug performer on stage. They knew exactly what the title 'Boundary Youkai' entailed. As long as the user possessed sufficient raw energy, they were practically all-powerful creators.
A magic performance? Against someone who could rewrite spatial coordinates on a whim?
The Magician's painted smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. His heavily shadowed eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Oh? My respected guest, could it be that you have also studied the arcane arts of magic?"
"I wouldn't exactly call it 'studying'," Haruto replied, offering a lazy, nonchalant shrug. "But I do know a few simple little tricks to pass the time."
The Magician's white-gloved fingers tightened around his polished wand, the wood creaking faintly under the pressure. His wide, theatrical grin snapped back into place. He didn't care if this human was truly capable or just blowing hot air. He possessed absolute confidence in his own twisted craft. In this circus, it was impossible for him to lose.
"Since we're doing this, how about we make a bigger bet?" Haruto suddenly suggested, his tone as casual as if he were ordering takeout.
The Magician paused. His smile remained fixed, oozing arrogant certainty. A bigger bet? Weren't the stakes in this hellish survival game high enough already?
Down below, the expressions of the surviving players shifted rapidly. Whispers broke out among the terrified humans. Soon, a veteran player's eyes widened in sudden realization, and he slapped his thigh.
"I see it now! The boss really is the boss!" he hissed under his breath.
"What? What do you mean?" a newcomer whispered back frantically. "Did I miss a plot point?"
"Plus one, I'm completely lost," another muttered.
"Think about it, you idiots," the veteran explained, his voice laced with awe. "If the boss loses, do you really think that psycho Magician will let him walk away? He'll definitely die. Since he's already bearing the ultimate cost of his life, increasing the stakes is all profit and zero loss for him. It's a psychological bluff!"
"Impressive!"
The Magician easily caught the hushed discussions drifting up from the stage floor. He didn't care. Let them theorize. He would win regardless; his ultimate confidence stemmed from decades of blood-soaked performances. He wouldn't lose. He couldn't lose.
"You wish to bet your life?" The Magician threw his arms wide, his cape billowing dramatically. "Fine! Then I shall accompany you to the bitter end!"
Haruto blinked, genuinely taken aback. He scratched his cheek. When did he ever say anything about betting his life?
"Uh, no," Haruto corrected mildly. "I just wanted to bet a few ghost coins."
The Magician's grand posture froze. A muscle twitched in his jaw before he spoke with decisive, unyielding authority. "Then, on top of betting your life, we shall add a sum of ghost coins to the pool."
His non-negotiable, utterly ruthless attitude made Haruto swallow back his intended complaint of 'there's really no need to be so dramatic as to bet our lives.'
Haruto gave the man a highly subtle, almost pitying look. Then, under the Magician's increasingly stunned gaze, the youth reached into his pocket and casually withdrew a massive, brick-thick stack of high-denomination red ghost coins. The sheer concentration of ghostly energy radiating from the cash was blinding.
"Are these... real coins?" The Magician's voice cracked slightly.
"Of course," Haruto replied, flipping the stack with a crisp, satisfying thwack.
"...I don't have this many." The Magician's eye twitched violently. He simply couldn't fathom how a mere human participant could carry around enough wealth to buy out half the horror instance.
If even the terrifying instance boss was reacting like this, the players in the audience were faring much worse. They stared wide-eyed, their jaws practically hitting the floor. Fortunately, Haruto's absurd, logic-defying performance throughout the entire survival game had already built up a decent layer of psychological immunity in their minds.
"It's fine. Just bet whatever you have," Haruto offered generously, waving a hand.
The Magician scowled. He yanked off his magic top hat, rummaged inside, and reluctantly pulled out a pathetic, meager stack of ghost coins. Only a tiny fraction were red; the vast majority were low-value blue notes.
"That is enough. You shall go first," the Magician declared, trying to salvage his dignity.
Haruto took a polite step back, giving him the floor.
The Magician's smile vanished entirely, replaced by a cold, solemn intensity. He swept his top hat off his head once more, flourishing it toward the audience to prove it was completely empty. With a sharp, theatrical flick of his wrist, a pristine white dove fluttered its wings and burst forth from the dark fabric, soaring up into the circus tent.
But he didn't stop there. Plunging his gloved hand back into the hat, he began to rapidly extract an impossible array of objects. Colorful ribbons streamed out in endless loops, followed by vibrant bouquets of flowers, and heavy brass oil lamps. Then, the performance took a grotesque turn. He pulled out severed, bloody fingers, disembodied palms that twitched on the stage floor, and finally, a freshly decapitated human head, its eyes still wide with terror.
Clap, clap, clap...
A wave of continuous, mechanical applause rang out from the stands. This was Rule Two of the tourist survival rules—clap, clap, remember to clap.
Despite the gruesome display, many of the players were more than willing to sacrifice a bit of their own vitality to ensure Haruto received a high score. If it weren't for this overpowered, shameless youth, they would likely still be blindly trusting the Circus Troupe Leader's fatal lies, playing those damned rigged games, and remaining entirely ignorant of the truth until their gruesome deaths.
A massive digital display screen rose from the back of the stage, its crimson numbers flickering rapidly.
1... 3... 6... before finally locking onto an 8.
Haruto clapped along with the crowd, even offering a supportive thumbs-up. "Impressive, very impressive."
The Magician offered a stiff, mocking bow, then swept his arm toward Haruto in a grand "please" gesture.
"Say, could I borrow that hat of yours for a moment?" Haruto asked, pointing at the dark top hat.
"My hat?" The Magician frowned, pulling it closer to his chest. "My deepest apologies, but it is not for loan. Even if I were to hand it to another, it would function as nothing more than an ordinary piece of headwear."
Haruto wasn't the least bit discouraged by the flat refusal. His gaze swept over the tense audience, eventually locking onto a well-maintained woman in her thirties sitting in the front row. She was wearing a delicate white lace hat.
"Then, could I borrow your hat, miss?" Haruto asked politely.
"Ah... oh! Of course!" The woman froze for a split second before snapping back to reality. She hurriedly pulled the lace hat from her head and tossed it briskly onto the stage.
Haruto caught the delicate fabric with one hand. Without a single word of theatrical buildup, he shoved his other hand directly into the shallow crown.
A scene that utterly shattered the audience's understanding of physics unfolded.
Half of Haruto's arm vanished straight into the shallow lace hat. The fabric didn't bulge or tear; it remained perfectly flat, as if the opening had smoothly connected to an entirely different spatial dimension.
Immediately after, he began casually yanking various items out of the tiny hat.
First came bags of potato chips and assorted snacks. Then a whole, perfectly frosted strawberry cake. A basket of fresh fruit. Three solid concrete bricks. And finally, to top it all off, three round, incredibly fluffy white creatures that squeaked in confusion.
The players in the audience sat completely dumbfounded.
Wait... Big Shot, you actually know how to do real magic too?!
The Magician's expression was a spectacular portrait of shattered reality. His jaw hung slack. He had absolutely never expected this seemingly ordinary human to possess the ability to fetch objects from thin air, let alone pull out genuine, breathing living creatures from a borrowed piece of lace.
Clap, clap, clap!
A thunderous round of applause erupted, echoing through the circus tent. This time, the cheering was infinitely more intense and genuine than the polite clapping for the Magician. The surviving players were practically vibrating with excitement, desperately wanting to leap from their seats and scream out praises for their savior.
The crimson numbers on the large screen scrolled in a blur, instantly rocketing past 8 and slamming to a hard stop at a perfect 10.
The top hat in the Magician's grip was squeezed completely out of shape by his trembling fingers. Yet, he forced his facial muscles into a strained, agonizing smile and joined in the clapping.
"It seems my esteemed guest possesses quite a deep understanding of the magical arts," the Magician gritted out, his voice tight. "In that case, I suppose I shall have to be a bit more serious."
As his ominous words fell, three burly staff members clad in stained blue overalls wheeled a massive, circular wooden knife-throwing board onto the center of the stage. The Magician then turned his chilling gaze to the audience, beckoning to the nearest trembling player.
"Would this lucky guest please come up and cooperate with me?"
The chosen player's face drained of all color, turning a sickly, ashen white. Though his heart hammered with absolute dread, he didn't dare refuse the boss's direct command. Gritting his teeth, he stood up on shaking legs and stumbled onto the stage.
The three staff members immediately seized him, strapping his wrists and ankles tightly to the wooden wheel before stepping back into the shadows. The player, entirely immobilized, swallowed hard. Cold sweat beaded heavily on his forehead, stinging his eyes.
The Magician reached into his ruined top hat and withdrew a gleaming stack of silver throwing knives. With a dramatic flourish, he tossed the entire handful straight into the air. In a flash of eerie blue light, all the blades froze, hovering menacingly in mid-air, their sharp tips pointed directly at the bound human.
The player tied to the wheel wanted to sob, but his tear ducts had run dry from sheer terror.
Bro... you're a Magician! Why the hell are you playing with lethal throwing knives?!
Thud! Thud, thud, thud!
The heavy, sickening sound of steel biting deep into wood rang out in rapid succession. The player squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting the agonizing pierce of metal through his flesh.
When the terrifying noise finally ceased, he cracked one eye open. He was completely unharmed. A massive, shuddering sigh of relief escaped his lips, the feeling of surviving a deadly disaster washing over him.
"Oh my, did I miss one? It seems my levitation magic isn't quite as proficient as I thought." The Magician looked down at a small, severed lock of the player's hair resting on the stage floor. He sighed in mock disappointment, then turned his piercing gaze back to Haruto.
"Now then, it is your turn. You may also choose a partner from the audience to cooperate with you."
Hearing the challenge, Haruto turned around calmly. His relaxed gaze swept past the terrified players, ultimately falling squarely on Kaguya, who was sitting comfortably in the stands right next to his original seat.
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