Chapter 91
Benefits (2)
IAM stared down at the two items laid before him—the black suitcase and the small, ornate box resting quietly beside it.
He could hardly believe it.
The so-called "benefits" Thor had promised—actual rewards—were real. Tangible. Sitting before him now like some strange dream that refused to fade. Yet he knew better than to view them through rose-tinted eyes. They weren't gifts. Not really. They came with a terrible price.
Everything in this world did.
Nothing good came free. And if it ever did, it probably carried the greatest price of all.
IAM leaned back slowly in his bed. The light from the nearby window filtered through the curtains, highlighting the faint lines under his eyes, the slow wear of exhaustion that never quite left his face.
Then, in a low, even voice, he asked, "What is it?"
He placed the now-empty bowl he had just finished onto the table beside him and reached for the apple that had been set near the meal. It was a deep, almost blood-red apple, shiny and perfect in its shape.
He took a slow, deliberate bite. The crunch echoed faintly in the quiet room, sharp and crisp.
It was oddly satisfying.
For such a wildly different world from Earth, IAM had always found it interesting how many of the fruits, animals, and basic foods remained strangely similar—almost identical in some cases. There were exceptions, of course. But for the most part, the basics remained intact.
Thor, seated across from him, gestured toward the black suitcase. Then, almost ceremonially, he picked it up and placed it carefully onto IAM's lap.
IAM took a moment to set the apple down, then reached for the suitcase.
He fiddled with the locking clasps, his fingers grazing over the polished metal, then popped the case open.
Inside were ten rows of gleaming gold coins, arranged neatly in lines, twenty coins stacked into each pile.
IAM reached out and picked one up, feeling its weight between his fingers. It was heavier than it looked—dense, solid, with a faint warmth from being stored in the case. The face of the coin was etched with a delicate crown on one side and a sickle on the other– the symbol of the nation printed onto all currency on this continent.
The intricate design shimmered faintly in the light.
He examined it quietly.
Thor spoke. "One of your rewards is a sum of 200 gold coins."
IAM blinked. The number didn't sound particularly mind-blowing on the surface. But he was no longer ignorant of this world's economy.
He knew better now.
Twenty silver coins could allow a lower middle-class family of four to live comfortably for an entire year—food, housing, healthcare, everything. And five hundred silver coins made a single gold coin.
So 200 gold coins wasn't just a comfortable reward. It was wealth. Legacy-level wealth.
If IAM wanted, he could live a lavish, luxurious life without ever working again. Not just for himself, but for generations after him. Even if they splurged, even if they were careless, 200 gold coins could carry three generations without effort.
IAM had, in an instant, shot up from poverty to staggering wealth in an instant.
"…Hey," IAM said casually, still studying the coins, "I've been meaning to ask—what exactly is an Ori?"
Thor stared at him for a second, as if trying to read whether this was a joke. Then, with a smirk, he smacked his own forehead. "Ah, right—you mentioned when you woke up that you were dealing with some amnesia."
IAM had claimed selective amnesia ever since he'd regained consciousness. It helped smooth over the gaps in knowledge he shouldn't have had and gave him leeway when interacting with people who had known him before... or thought they had. Claiming he couldn't remember certain details helped smooth out a lot of awkwardness.
Thor leaned forward slightly. "An Ori is, put simply, condensed mana. Mana is everywhere, but there are a few extremely rare parts of the world where it's so dense that it becomes tangible. These places are incredibly rare, and even then, it takes very specific conditions for mana to condense into an Ori."
IAM listened carefully, his attention shifting now to the conversation.
Thor continued, "An Ori is so potent that one coin-sized piece could power an entire country for a year. But condensed mana doesn't just become Ori automatically. The conditions have to be perfect, and it can take centuries—thousands of years even—for a single Ori to form."
"There are areas where new deposits form, but they're aggressively fought over. It's almost always nations—not individuals—who control them. And Ori is almost never exchanged between people. It's too valuable. Nations hoard them. Governments guard them. But to avoid unrest, we tell the public that an Ori is worth 10,000 gold coins. That way, most people just assume they could never afford one anyway."
He smirked faintly. "But in truth, no one would ever trade an Ori for gold. The real value is immeasurable."
IAM nodded slowly, letting it all sink in. That explained a lot. Ori wasn't just a power source—it was a geopolitical resource. Something worth bloodshed.
"And," IAM added, his voice dry, "I guess there's no real reason for one person to need one, huh?"
"Exactly," Thor replied. "No average citizen would ever require that kind of energy. It would be like giving a reactor to a baker."
IAM looked thoughtful. Then, with a slight smirk, he muttered, "Still... they could've picked a cooler name than 'Ori.' Like, I dunno… manacoin or something?"
He waited a second later. "Wait—never mind. That sounds goofy."
Thor chuckled, shaking his head. "It's called Ori because of the woman who discovered it. Her name was Orilith Drake. One of the most brilliant researchers in recorded history."
IAM gave a small nod. The name etched itself into his memory—another small piece of knowledge in a world filled with far too many secrets.
Then Thor reached for the smaller box. He picked it up with a smile, almost like a proud mentor. "While I would've preferred something more ceremonial… considering your personality, I asked for this instead."
He opened the box.
Inside was a sleek, polished badge. Black, with a deep red 'H' in the center, stylized with jagged edges that almost looked like flames or wings depending on the angle.
Thor tapped the edge lightly. "A Badge of Honour. Carry it with you. It'll give you special privileges—access to places, priority services, respect. People will know you've done something important. It'll follow you wherever you go. It opens doors. Not all of them—but more than most people will ever walk through."
He closed the box and placed it beside IAM.
"And now," Thor said more seriously, "for the final reward. A single request—within reason—that we will try our best to fulfill."
IAM didn't even glance at the box again. His eyes were still locked on the golden coins. The glint of wealth, of opportunity. The potential to live comfortably for the rest of his life... or to arm himself for what came next.
He spoke, calmly: "Do you know where the gun I had is? The mech. It's very important to me."
Thor nodded. "Oh… yes. It was severely damaged, but it's in our storage. I can have it delivered to you soon—"
"No," IAM interrupted.
He turned the suitcase toward Thor, letting him see the glittering gold again.
"Can you fix it—and upgrade it?" IAM asked quietly. "Turn it into one of those mechs that can grow stronger with the user?"?"
Thor fell silent.
He wasn't expecting that.
Not the gold. Not the badge. Not the comfort or the luxury.
But the weapon.
Thor looked at IAM for a moment, watching the way the boy, the way his fingers gripped the side of the suitcase—not like a man grasping wealth, but like someone grasping a purpose.
A reason.
Thor leaned back slowly, nodding once, but saying nothing—for now.