Skruk… skrakk… skrukkk…
The sound of stone scrubbing of metal sounded from the backyard of The Iron Fork, a well-known restaurant in the city of Forked. Not long after, a sudden and ear-piercing clatter of metal crashed against the ground echoed.
"... SHitt.."
Zeon stood up, picked up the falling pot, then sat again, scrubbing the pot with grumbling. He was a scullery boy in that restaurant now, and his days were spent scrubbing pots until his hands were raw and his back ached.
He hated this damn work. He hated the heat from the kitchen. And he hated being with the animals when doing the scrubbing. The goats, the chicken, were surrounding him while he was struggling to clean off stubborn burns from the back of the pots.
'Gosh… the smell…'
But he had to eat, a place to stay… in short, he had to survive. More than that, he had to observe.
There were some important and rich people coming to this restaurant. The wealthy merchants, the knights of some nobles, and his target, the mages.
He would observe them closely, and saw how easily they wasted mana. A mage would use it simply to light their pipes, or to cool a drink. What they did was trivial nonsense for Zeon, but he couldn't even manage to gather a single wisp of mana.
He could sense it, and this original owner of the body could. But he couldn't hold, or pull it into himself. It was like trying to hold water in his fist, it would slip through his fingers.
This was a cruel twist of a flaw, he wasn't able to overcome.
"Boy, you gonna scrub that pot or stare at it all day?"
Zeon blinked, forcing his eyes back to the pot he held. "Sorry, Zelda…"
"Sorry will get you fired soon," she snapped, then put a plate of leftover meal on the kitchen table. She was the cook for this restaurant, and sometimes would give him some of the food she made.
"You're too skinny for this work. Eat something before you collapse," she said in a softer tone.
Zeon gave a weak smile, then got up to eat.
*******
At night, Zeon would be immersed with his scraps of metal and a worn toolkit in his small and dusty room above the restaurant. He had been working on a few designs he remembered from his previous life.
Those were simple designs, really. The schematics for a Mana-Powered Compass, a small device that would always point to the strongest concentration of mana, meant for mana stone mining. Or a Mana-Dampening Box, a small container to store mana-infused items.
He had sketches of a simple Mana-powered flashlight as well, a tool that would use a small amount of channeled mana to create a concentrated beam of light, simple but it should be brighter than any torch. But all of these designs needed one thing which he wasn't able to obtain yet—mana infused alloy.
With bitterness in his eyes, he held a small chunk of dark metal, which seemed ordinary to the naked eye, but he could sense the mana woven into it. This small piece cost him nearly all his savings, enough to feed him for months.
He knew if he wanted to build anything worthwhile, he needed more. A lot more of this. The official stores of the Carja empire sold it in limited quantities, at prices that could bankrupt even a king. His one year earning in this restaurant would be gone in a single purchase.
The only other option he knew was the black market. It was a dangerous place where people disappeared.
"You sure about this, Joe?" he muttered to himself, his eyes still locked into the alloy. Of course, no one replied.
He took a deep breath. One thing he knew for sure—to progress, he had to take risks.
*******
One month passed, Zeon now was standing at the intersection between the clamours of the city and the slum. He should pass this run down neighbourhood, in order to get to the black market.
The black market was a different world from Forked's bright streets. It was a network of twisting alleys at the back side of the city, and having the smell of rot, and cheap liquor. He could feel the cold stare of every person he passed, sizing him up.
He held his head high, trying to walk in confidence, though his heart was beating wildly. His experiences on Earth told him how to act like he belonged to the place, even when he was terrified. On the west side, he found a small house built with damp stones and woods he'd been told about.
Knock…knock…
Zeon knocked on the door, then a deep rumbling voice answered from inside.
"Come in."
Hesitantly, Zeon opened the door. The air inside was a mix of damp and metals. Behind a wooden desk, he saw a dwarf with a broad gruff figure, his beard woven with silver rings.
The dwarf squinted his eyes when he saw a human figure entering. "You're not from here, kid," the dwarf growled.
"I need alloys, infused ones. Gimme all you have." Zeon said.
The dwarf's narrowed. "That's not cheap, boy. And you look like you scrub floors for a living."
Zeon wasn't bluffing to ask the dwarf to give him all the alloys. He had spent the last week gathering every last piece of money he could, even though he sacrificed his meal, and there was money he took from Carrie's cabin. He was putting all his efforts into this single purchase.
The dwarf clearly studied him. Still with narrowed eyes, he asked, "You a guard's patsy? Trying to trap me?"
Zeon snorted. "Do I look like a guard? I'm here to buy."
The dwarf grunted, weighing the risk. But he changed his demeanor when Zeon took out a pouch of coins.
"Fine."
Soon the deal was made, and the dwarf handed him a small, heavy pouch. He opened it, and saw a full dark metal inside it. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said, trying to be polite.
"Get out of here," the dwarf muttered while counting the coins. "And don't come back unless you've got more coins."
Zeon grinned as he tucked the alloys back into his slingbag, then stepped out of the grumpy dwarf's house. He had what he came for. Now, it was time to build something that would finally earn him some coin.
He walked through the narrow alleys and left the slums behind. His mind was preoccupied with the designs, so didn't notice his surroundings. A few hundred steps outside the slum, he smelled something.
A scent in the air that was both sweet and dangerous, filled his nostrils, making his steps freeze. Then he saw her. An elven woman, her skin as pale as moonlight, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders. She was impossibly beautiful, unreal, and her eyes were challenging him. She smiled at him lazily.
"Lost, pretty boy?" she asked. Her voice was soft like wind chimes.
Zeon felt his blood boil, his heart pounding faster inside his chest. He totally forgot about this matter. About the power of the system, which could drive him to fall to the temptation of lust.