Eamond awoke facedown in a puddle of something that smelled suspiciously like regret and cabbage. His skull throbbed as memories flooded in—Yan Meigui's smirk, the contract's fine print, the way his trillion-dollar empire had dissolved into ash. His new body from what he gathered from the information in his head—14 years old, malnourished, and dressed in rags—felt like a downgrade from his Ferrari-smooth existence. Yan Meigui, when I find you, I'm billing you for emotional damages.
He pushed himself up, wincing as his hands sank into mud that squelched like a financial advisor's empty promises. A flicker of gold caught his eye in the murky water below. Leaning closer, he froze.
Blond hair. Not just blond—liquid sunlight spilling over his shoulders, so bright it mocked the alley's grime.
Golden eyes. Not just gold—molten coins glowing even in the dim alleyway, a cruel joke from the gods.
"What in the capitalist hell—"
[User Detected: Eamond Richard]
Welcome to Veridianya ! \(^0^)/ ""
You're in the city of Alcasa, The capital of the continent of Ingrid
Customization Summary:
Aesthetic Package: "Radiant Adonis" (Repurposed due to [Karma Deficit: -∞]).
Perks: Increased in charm, appearance and charisma (+300% slave market value).
Drawbacks: You're an orphan. Again.
Eamond scowled at the glowing text only he could see. "Explain. Now."
Tutorial:
Magic: Mana (common), Money Magic (your specialty, currently locked).
Currency: 100 Copper = 1 Silver. 100 Silver = 1 Gold.
Threats: Crimson Fang slavers (likelihood of capturing you: 87%).
"Locked? Locked!? I paid trillions for this!"
Correction: You paid 90% of your fortune for a [Starter Package]. Your balance: 10 Gold (escrow account).
Before he could argue, a shadow fell over him.Three men blocked the alley exit, their leather armor stained and faces leering. The leader, a barrel-chested brute with a broken nose, whistled. "Lookie here! A golden-eyed stray. Lords pay double for exotic pets."
Eamond straightened, channeling Boardroom Eamond™. "Exotic? I prefer limited edition."
The thug snorted. "Oh, you'll be limited alright. First, we'll see if that pretty mouth's good for more than sass. Then we'll sell what's left to the highest bidder. Nobles pay extra for broken toys."
Hostile Intent Detected!
Suggested Actions:
Run. (Success Rate: 12%)
Don't! (+500% Trauma)
Eamond's golden eyes narrowed. "Daer, I got enough truma for that I'm selling it on a discounted price." He subtly palmed a rusted nail from the ground. Not a black card, but it'll do.
The thug lunged.
A firecracker of light then exploded at the brute's feet. A girl in singed mage robes burst into the alley, grabbing Eamond's wrist. "Run, Sunbeam!"
They sprinted through labyrinthine streets, ducking under merchant carts laden with spices that stung Eamond's eyes and vaulting crates of squawking chickens. Behind them, the thugs' shouts faded as Lysandra veered into a narrow passageway, her boots splashing through stagnant puddles.
"Left!" she barked, yanking him around a corner just as a dagger clattered against the wall where his head had been.
Eamond's lungs burned. "Got a destination, or are we sightseeing?"
"Shut up and run!"
"Charming scenery," Eamond panted. "Is there a guided tour?"
"Shut up and move!"
A dagger hissed past Eamond's ear, embedding itself in a chicken coop. Feathers exploded as panicked birds mobbed their pursuers.
Aversion Strategy: Poultry Distraction.
Creativity Bonus: +3 Copper.
"Not helpful!"
Finally, she hauled him into a crumbling stone building, slamming the door. A sign hung crookedly outside: St. Marla's Orphanage.
They crashed into St. Marla's Orphanage, slamming the door as the thugs' threats dissolved into furious coughing—Lysandra's smoke spell lingered like a bad loan.
The girl whirled, jabbing a finger at his chest. "You're welcome, Goldilocks."
"Eamond," he corrected, flicking mud off his sleeve. "And I had the situation under control."
"Sure." She tossed him a stale bread crust. "Your 'control' involved becoming a slaver's bath toy."
"Counteroffer: let them capture me, bankrupt their operation from the inside. Classic hostile takeover."
She stared. "You'd really…?"
"Of course not. But it sounded good, didn't it?"
"I'm Lysandra. An orphaned at St. Marla. Professional idiot-saver."
New Contact: [Lysandra – Age 15. Fire Mage (Novice). Debt: 12 Silver (owed to Matron). Cynicism Level: CEO.]
Eamond eyed her scorched robes. "You 'redirect combustion,' I assume?"
"I blow things up." She shrugged.
St. Marla's loomed like a crumbling dowager, its once-grand archways now sagging under ivy and neglect. Eamond trailed Lysandra through its halls, noting the water stains on silk wallpaper (old money, now bankrupt) and the way sunlight speared through holes in the roof ("skylights," she called them).
Location: St. Marla's Orphanage (Formerly the Viscountess Marla's Summer Estate)
Estimated Market Value: 50 Gold (Pre-Rat Infestation).
Lysandra kicked open a warped door. "Dining hall." The room held a splintered table and a fireplace choked with ash. A charred pot hung over cold embers—"That's my soup," she said proudly.
"Ah. I thought it was abstract art."
"Shut up."
Upstairs, they passed rooms where mattresses lay like shipwrecks. A girl no older than six peeked from behind a door, clutching a rag doll missing an arm. Eamond nodded (Boardroom nod, softened 2%). She vanished.
New Contact: [Unnamed Orphan – Age 6. Skill: Stealth (Novice). Debt: 0. Potential: Undervalued.]
Lysandra than took Eamond to the courtyard and stopped at a rusted bell in the courtyard. "Matron's too weak to ring it now." She struck it with a fire-coated fist. The clang echoed like a drunk church choir.
Children materialized from shadows and floorboards:
The orphans stared—some wary, others curious. A boy with a black eye sneered, "He's rich," eyeing Eamond's golden hair like it was a vault.
Lysandra snorted. "Nah. Just pretty. And temporary."
A small girl, no older than six, tugged Lysandra's sleeve. "Sis… the butcher said no more credit. We got no food." Her stomach growled loudly.
Eamond's gaze flicked to the girl's threadbare shoes. Pathetic. Sentimental. Weak. He flicked four coppers at her feet. "Invest this on some food. Food's better currency than tears."
Net Worth: 2 Copper
Karma Adjustment: -1
Reason: Exploitative Generosity™ (Bribing Children to Avoid Emotional Labor).
"Useless guilt trip," Eamond thought, ignoring the prompt.
Lysandra's eyes narrowed. "That's half our bread money. You should have kept it."
" It's my money, anyway" He shrugged.
Lysandra led him the hall where moth-eaten velvet curtains pooled like dead aristocrats. "Matron's upstairs. Bedridden. Coughs worse every week."
"Charming," Eamond said. "And her fiscal strategy?"
"Fiscal what?"
"How does this place stay open?"
"It doesn't. We steal. Beg. Take odd jobs. Crimson Fang leaves us alone 'cause we're 'not worth the hassle.'" Her voice tightened. "Till now."
Eamond's golden eyes flicked to her. "Because of me."
"Bingo."
She than stop at a small door and she open the door " This is your room"
His "room" was a closet under the stairs, barely fit for brooms, let alone a disgraced trillionaire. A straw pallet, a cracked chamber pot, and a ledger scrawled with Matron's shaky handwriting: "Owed to Butcher: 3 Silver… Owed to Blacksmith: 5…"
"Cozy," Eamond said.
Lysandra lingered in the doorway, her fiery bravado flickering. "Matron used to say we'd get out of here. Now… just don't die, Goldilocks."
"Charming bedtime story."
"You're their type now." She nodded at his face. "Golden. Delicate. Breakable."
"I'm flattered."
"You shouldn't be." She tossed him a mothballed blanket. "Sleep. Tomorrow, you're teaching Pip to pick pockets."
"Who?."
" The little girl that said your hair was shiny"
That night while Eamond was sitting on his bed, he asked the system. "Why the golden poster-boy appearance? I know that goddess didn't give it in this deal and I know she didn't give it for free. "
Host is Correct, the appearance comes from Negative Karma Package. The goddess left a bit of a break-down on this:
Childhood: Golden features = nobles adopt you as a "blessed ward."
Adolescence: Golden features = slavers target you as a "rare collectible."
Conclusion: Karma's a poet. Yan Meigui sends her regards.
Somehow he could hear Yan's laugh, sharp as broken glass. "The gods do love irony, Mr. Richard."
Eamond gritted his teeth. "Fix it."
Solution: Earn 100 Gold to unlock [Mundane Disguise].
Alternative: Find a witch to curse your face (Cost: 1 favor. Side effects: warts).
" Ughh fine, I'll keep it for now. Next Question where is this?"
Host is in Veridianya. A world that was created by the goddess Yggdrasil. Host is now in Alcasa the capital city ruled over a human king and an elf queen. Alcasa is also the largest City in the continent of Ingrid. Ingrid is also the largest of the 9 continent.
" Okay, Now what is magic that you said in the beginning and why is mine lock?"
Magic 101:
Magic is Reality's cheat code. Most species (elves, dwarves, etc.) are born with mana cores to cast spells. Humans? You get scraps.
Your Magic: Money Magic – the art of turning wealth into cosmic power. Why chant spells when you can just… buy them?
Lock Reason:
Starter Package Fine Print: Your 10 Gold escrow is trapped in interdimensional bureaucracy. Earn 10 Gold locally to unlock [Money Magic – Tier 1].
"So I'm a capitalist wizard. Delightful. How do I start?"
Step 1: Earn gold. Methods include:
Legal: Trade, mercenary work, ~~being ethical~~.
Illegal: Theft, fraud, selling Crimson Fang secrets.
Step 2: Profit. Literally.
Current Quest: [Escape Alcasa's Slums – Reward: 10 Gold].
Hint: Try not to get sold as a "luxury companion" first.
Pro Tip: Use your "genetic superiority" to scam nobles. Or seduce a banker. Your call.
Fun Fact: That elf queen ruling Alcasa? Her crown's cursed. Market opportunity~
"Okay I get the gist of it ~Yawn~ I'll sleep on it and make a plan next dawn".
As Eamond drifted off, the straw pallet's itch mirrored memories of cold orphanage floors. "Some upgrades are overrated," he muttered, gold eyes glinting in the dark. a flashback of when he was a child, sleeping on the orphanage hard bed with a blanket that didn't help with the cold while feeling hungry.
"Ahh how nostalgic" he said bitterly.