"Fiers' head?"
Major Assal nudged the severed head with his boot, turning it to face him. After a closer look, he froze. It was real. The bounty was unmistakable—thirty million Berries. Martney Fiers, one of the most feared pirates in the North Blue.
Assal quickly looked back toward the ship. Roy had already leapt off the prow and landed gracefully on the dock.
"Are you... a bounty hunter?" Assal asked, sweat beading at his temples.
"May the Light be with you, sir. I'm here to claim the bounty," Roy answered with a calm smile, his expression radiating sincere piety. He hadn't confirmed he was a bounty hunter—but he hadn't denied it either. After all, there was no harm in picking up some extra cash along the way. Who in the world would turn down free money?
An adjutant strode over and gave a quick report. "Sir, including Fiers, a total of five bounty targets. The combined reward comes to sixty-eight million, three hundred thousand Berries."
He paused, glancing at Assal, who discreetly signaled with his eyes. The adjutant cleared his throat and added, "However, our local branch doesn't carry that much cash on hand. We can offer up to twenty million Berries now, and the rest... in five days."
"Oh?" Roy immediately saw through the ploy, but he didn't mind. He could afford to wait. "Very generous. May the Holy Light bless you," he said with a smile.
Assal scowled, then waved his hand. "Stand down!" He turned back to Roy. "Your name?"
"Roy. Tirion D. Roy," he replied with deliberate politeness, giving a shallow bow. Although he was irritated by the Navy's underhanded move, his guiding principle was to greet everyone with a smile. After all, everyone was a child of the Light. And in the eyes of the Light, all were equal.
More importantly, the Navy still owed him money. And when someone owes you, they're your master. Killing them won't get you paid. Better to take what you can now and play the long game. In Roy's mind, the Navy's trustworthiness was no better than the pirates'.
Yes, the Light shielded him. He could starve to death and just rez at the nearest graveyard. But food still cost money. And money—well, even the Light had no problem with people living comfortably.
Moments later, Roy accepted a large chest from the adjutant and promptly tossed it into his system's inventory.
Then he began wandering through the town known as Flevance, dubbed the White City.
Eighty years ago, a mineral called Amber Lead had been discovered here. It was used in everything—from utensils and spices to cosmetics—and had rapidly propelled the city into a capitalist boom. The people of Flevance worshipped just one god: the Berries.
"Thank you for your patronage! Come again!" a pretty young woman called after Roy, bowing cheerfully at the storefront. He had just spent lavishly, and she'd made a killing off him.
By now, Roy had finally shed the tattered clothes he'd worn for the last three years—so old, they had long since lost their original color. In their place was a white longcoat, layered over a crisp white shirt and trousers. A gleaming golden cross hung at his chest, and the grime on his face had been thoroughly washed away.
As he strolled past a jewelry shop, Roy couldn't help using the display glass as a mirror. Black hair, black eyes—not much different from his appearance in his previous life.
The next few days passed quietly. Roy roamed the hotels, bars, and streets of Flevance. He waited, curious to see what kind of trick the Navy was trying to pull by delaying the rest of the bounty payout for five days.
He'd originally hoped to use this time to spread the teachings of the Holy Light and perhaps even gather a few believers. But that idea died quickly.
The people of this city were beyond saving. Their minds were too full of money, work, and pleasure—there was no room for anything else.
If he tried preaching the virtues of the Light, they would look at him like he was insane. "Kid, are you serious? I'm living just fine. Why the hell would I believe in some holy Light crap? Can it make me rich?"
So Roy gave up. As for using the Repentance spell to force conversions? Forget it. At that point, he might as well be a street hustler.
Still, during these few days, Roy discovered something strange using his Purify skill. Some people in the city carried trace amounts of toxins in their bodies.
It wasn't obvious. The toxin was latent—undetectable at first. But once it reached a certain threshold, death was inevitable. The cause? A white mineral.
Amber Lead.
Anyone who came into frequent contact with the substance would eventually be poisoned. The most affected were the miners—especially those doing the excavation work deep underground.
"According to canon, the poison will erupt within ten years—and once it does, it's completely incurable." Roy crushed a chunk of amber lead into powder in his palm and smiled. He wanted to save people and spread the Light in the process, but no one would believe him.
The lure of profit had blinded them. If he ran into the streets shouting, "Hey everyone, you're poisoned!"—they'd treat him like a lunatic or worse, a threat to their livelihoods.
On the morning of the fifth day, Roy arrived punctually at the Navy branch to collect the rest of his reward. The adjutant politely told him to come back in the afternoon. His attitude was humble, even deferential.
Roy knew the truth. That money was gone. Pocketed. Stolen by the very people entrusted to enforce justice. Still, he didn't lash out. The Navy wasn't stupid. If they said "come back in the afternoon," it meant they had preparations in place. Even if they didn't intend to pay him, they were confident they could handle a blow-up.
So Roy waited. He wanted to see—what gave them such boldness?
Bored, he took to the skies atop his gryphon mount and leisurely soared over the town. While circling a coastal mining site, he caught the sound of a heated argument below.
A man in a tailored suit was in a shouting match with a foreman, who stood backed by a large group of workers.
"Thirty percent is too much! We won't be able to feed our workers at this rate!" the foreman protested, arms spread wide in frustration. "Mining Amber Lead is already expensive. If you slash the price another thirty percent, we won't even be able to afford a night at the bar!"
The suited man gave a malicious smile. "A night at the bar? You're joking, right? I represent the World Government. Are you trying to defy them?"
Amber Lead could be refined into special weapons, making it a strategic resource. The World Government took a personal interest in its acquisition and pricing.
This man—Okulama—was the official appointed to oversee the handoff of Amber Lead shipments.
He had no interest in living on a fixed government salary. He wanted kickbacks. And if he could force the miners to lower the sale price, he could pocket a massive commission on the side.
To that end, he was demanding the price be cut by thirty percent—purely to line his own pockets.
Naturally, the mine owners were furious. That thirty percent was their margin. Okulama wasn't just robbing them—he was kicking over their rice bowls.
But any attempt at resistance would be met with the full weight of the World Government. And nobody wanted to end up in prison... or worse, as playthings of the Celestial Dragons.
"This is all for world peace," Okulama said sanctimoniously. "The government is stretched thin fighting the growing pirate threat. We all need to make sacrifices. Would you rather see this beautiful city overrun by pirates?"
The foreman cursed silently: You're no better than pirates yourselves. Spouting flowery nonsense about peace... It's all just about gold and women.
But he didn't dare say any of that aloud.
Overhead, Roy couldn't help but chuckle. World peace, my ass.
The tense argument continued below, echoing through the open quarry—until Roy's laughter broke through the air, drawing everyone's attention upward.