The sea was vast, blue, and utterly indifferent to your financial problems. That was the first lesson I learned as the sun hung directly overhead, burning my neck skin already raw from blade cuts.
In front of me, an old fisherman named Silas still aimed a rusty harpoon at my chest. The iron tip trembled slightly—not from fear, but from his tired old muscles straining under the weapon's weight.
"One reason," Silas growled, eyes squinting beneath a straw hat eaten by sea termites. "One reason why I shouldn't throw you and that white rat into the ocean. Reef Shark bait's expensive these days."
Miri hid behind my calves, squeaking softly. "Tell him I'm not a rat, Boss. I'm a high-value spiritual asset."
"Quiet, Asset," I hissed, then slowly raised both hands. This position—negotiating with life as the stakes—oddly felt more comfortable than filling out tax forms.
"Captain Silas," I began, using my measured 'Business Consultant' tone. "Throwing us overboard is a bad investment. You'd lose free labor and magical profit potential. Look at your net."
I pointed at the fishing net lying pathetically on the boat deck. Contents: seaweed, two empty glass bottles, and one depressed-looking mackerel.
"Your catch is pitiful," I continued brutally. "This sea, the Silent Sea, isn't friendly to conventional methods. Fish here have Mana Resistance. Regular nets can't hold them."
Silas spat to the side, hitting the mast. "And you think you know how to catch ghost fish, City Boy? You don't even have a fishing rod."
"I don't need a rod. I have a system."
I slowly lowered my hands, then reached into my dimensional pouch. Silas tensed, index finger ready to release the harpoon trigger. But I only pulled out one blank card—last surviving stock from the fire.
"I can modify your net," I offered. "I can give it the concept of 'Attraction'. Within an hour, your cargo hold will be full. In exchange, you give us passage to the nearest port and... don't kill us."
Silas stared at me, then at his empty net, then back at me. Greed was a universal language, and I saw that glint in his old eyes.
"Half an hour," Silas countered roughly. "If there's no fish in half an hour, you become bait."
"Deal."
I walked toward the net. Miri followed me warily, tail wrapping around my leg.
"Boss," Miri whispered. "We don't have a Bait card. How do we make the net attractive?"
"We improvise," I replied quietly.
I placed my hand on the fishy-smelling nylon net. Infinite Grimoire activated in my mind. I needed a concept. Something attention-grabbing, something irresistible.
I remembered the Mass Hysteria card I'd used at Barnaby's shop. Its core concept was 'Greed' and 'False Desire'. I couldn't reuse that card since it was destroyed, but conceptual residuum still clung to my brain—like a song stuck on repeat.
"System. Extract memory residue: Barnaby's Greed."
[PROCESSING...]
[CONCEPT TRACE: Artificial Desire]
[INFUSING TARGET: Old Fishing Net]
Thin golden chains emerged from my fingers, stitching that abstract concept into the physical nylon fibers. The net vibrated, then glowed with a dim, slightly tacky golden light.
[ITEM UPGRADED: The Capitalist's Net]
[Rank: Common (Enchanted)]
[Effect: Broadcasts "99% Discount" signal wave audible only to sea creatures with low intelligence. Fish will feel this net is a once-in-a-lifetime investment opportunity.]
"Cast it," I ordered Silas.
Silas snorted skeptically, but threw the net into the sea.
One minute passed. Silence. Just the sound of waves hitting the hull. Silas started raising his harpoon again.
"Your time's up—"
THUD.
The boat lurched.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Suddenly, the net rope went taut, nearly dragging Silas overboard if he hadn't wrapped the rope around a mooring post.
"By Poseidon's beard!" Silas yelled, eyes bulging. "What is this?!"
The water around the boat boiled. Hundreds—no, thousands—of fish leaped and scrambled to get into the net. These weren't ordinary fish. There were Armored Tuna with metal scales, Electric Eels sparking with lightning, and crabs the size of tires.
They crammed into the net as if there were free concert tickets inside.
"Pull! Pull!" I shouted, grabbing the rope too.
All three of us—me, Silas, and Miri (biting the rope's end with her tiny teeth)—pulled with all our strength. My muscles screamed, the wound on my back burned hot, but the sensation of profit killed the pain.
We hauled the load onto deck.
The fish flopped everywhere, filling the wooden floor with gleaming scales and wild magical energy.
"So many..." Silas collapsed sitting, breath ragged, staring at the fish pile like he was seeing a mountain of gold. "This is a month's catch!"
I wiped sweat from my forehead, grinning thinly. "The art of marketing, Captain. Even fish can't resist a good promo."
But that's when I saw something strange.
One fish—a Lantern Fish with a light bulb on its head—stared at me.
Not the empty gaze of a dead fish. This was a conscious stare.
"Thank you..." the fish whispered. Its voice sounded like popping bubbles. "Where's the discount? I want to buy shares..."
My smile vanished.
"Miri," I whispered. "Did that fish just talk?"
"It asked about stocks, Boss," Miri replied casually while chewing a raw shrimp. "This sea's weird. Don't think about it."
I stared at the fish pile. Infinite Grimoire in my head blinked active, providing an analysis that made my neck hairs stand on end.
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
[Target: Stray Spirits of the Deep]
[Description: These aren't just fish. These are soul fragments from ancient sea gods who lost a war thousands of years ago. They evolved into sea fauna but still carry remnants of divine concepts.]
I thought it was a metaphor for small river gods in the city. Turns out, in this sea, I was literally fishing for god remains that had become seafood.
"This is a gold mine," I muttered. My eyes gleamed not from hunger, but from crafting potential. If I could extract concepts from these fish...
Suddenly, dizziness slammed into me.
Conceptual Backflow from the net activated. The concept of 'Barnaby's Greed'.
My hands moved on their own, grabbing a large skipjack tuna.
"THIS IS MINE!" I shouted at Silas, hugging the fish possessively. "The net was my work! Seventy percent of this catch is mine! You're just transportation infrastructure! I'm charging concept rental fees!"
Silas, who'd been happy, suddenly turned grim. "What did you say, Boy? This is my boat!"
"Your boat's a depreciating asset!" I argued, eyes wild. "Without my net, you're just a tourist with an iron stick! I want dividends! I want majority stock options on this vessel!"
"Boss!" Miri leaped onto my head, yanking my hair. "Snap out of it! Boss is having an episode again! Don't negotiate with someone holding a harpoon!"
The pain on my scalp brought some awareness back. I reluctantly released the skipjack. My breath came in gasps.
"Sorry," I said, rubbing my face. "Magic side effects. Sometimes I get... very calculating."
Silas eyed me suspiciously, but the fish pile in front of him was too tempting to stay angry long. He snorted. "We split 60-40. I get 60. And you clean the deck."
"50-50," I countered automatically.
"55-45. And you get free fish soup."
"Deal."
We shook hands atop a pile of dead gods.
***
That evening, Silas's small boat—The Drunken Gull—docked at a floating trading post called Rusty Anchor.
This wasn't an official kingdom port. This was a cluster of massive shipwrecks lashed together, forming an artificial island in the open sea. A gathering place for smugglers, retired pirates, and people who didn't want to be found.
Perfect for me.
I sat at the deck's edge, watching oil lamps swaying at Rusty Anchor. In my hand, I held a new card from today's harvest.
I couldn't help myself. While cleaning fish earlier, I'd secretly extracted concepts from several rare specimens.
[CARD: The Drifting Doubt]
[Rank: Common]
[Source: A Philosophizing Tuna]
[Effect: Makes target doubt their life decisions for 10 seconds. Effective for stopping enemy attacks who experience existential crises.]
Trash card, but amusing. I pocketed it.
"We need logistics," Miri said, appearing with fish soup residue smeared around her mouth. "Silas's boat smells fishy. I need soap. And maybe new clothes for Boss. Boss's shirt has more holes than fabric."
I looked at my reflection in the seawater. Pathetic. My white shirt was half-gone, my pants covered in blood and fish slime stains. I looked like a shipwreck victim—which was actually true.
"We've got 80 gold, and our fish sale share gave us another 50 gold," I calculated. "Enough to buy used clothes and rent a small workspace at Rusty Anchor."
"Workspace? We're not running anymore?"
"Running needs a destination, Miri. Right now we're directionless. We need information. Where we are on the map, which way to the Southern continent, and most importantly..."
I touched my neck, where Prince Eldric had once stared at me from his balcony.
"...whether there's a price on my head."
We disembarked, stepping onto Rusty Anchor's creaking wooden walkways. The atmosphere here differed from the capital. Rougher. More honest in its cruelty. No nobles pretending politeness. If someone wanted to kill you here, they'd do it while looking you in the eye, not through taxation.
I walked toward a bulletin board in front of a drinking tavern.
There, among pirate wanted posters and advertisements for sea monster horn aphrodisiacs, was a fresh paper with still-wet ink.
No picture of me. No sketch.
Just the kingdom emblem: Golden Sun. And a decree.
[WANTED: ECONOMIC INSURGENT]
[Description: Unknown individual using market manipulation magic. Suspected of masquerading as nobility. Last seen in District 9.]
[Reward: 10,000 Gold Coins]
[Status: Dead or Alive]
I swallowed. 10,000 Gold. My value had doubled overnight. That was an impressive asset valuation increase—and terrifying.
"Boss," Miri whispered. "That's expensive. If I sell Boss, I could buy a mountain of crackers."
"Don't even think about it," I said, quickly tearing down the poster before anyone could read it.
Suddenly, the sound of wings flapping echoed above us.
Not ordinary seagulls. This was a Courier Albatross—a magical mechanical bird with a silver body and crystal lens eyes. The bird circled twice, then dove sharply toward me.
People around us backed away. Courier Albatrosses were only used by high officials or elite organizations.
The bird landed on my left shoulder with painful grip. Its cold talons pierced skin.
"Package for: User Rax," a mechanical voice emerged from its beak.
My heart stopped. How did it know I was here? I'd used the Schrödinger card! I'd dimension-jumped!
"Who's the sender?" I asked, my hand slowly moving toward the card deck in my pocket.
"Sender: Anonymous. Priority: Absolute."
The bird regurgitated a small paper scroll tied with black ribbon. Mission complete, it flew away, vanishing into the night fog.
I opened the scroll with trembling hands. Miri climbed onto my shoulder to read along.
The contents weren't a death threat from the Prince. Not a seizure notice from the Inspectorate either.
The writing inside was neat, elegant, written with ink that smelled of deep ocean.
"To Mr. Rax, The Anomaly,
Your reputation precedes you. Destroying the Iron Ledger warehouse and humiliating the Prince in one night? Most... refreshing entertainment.
This sea needs talent like yours. The old gods are restless down in the depths, and they need someone to 'manage' them.
If you wish to survive the Prince's hunt, come to Coordinates 404-South. There's an island not on any map. We need a Cardsmith unafraid of sin.
Signed,
The Admiral of the Sunken Fleet
(P.S. Don't die on the way. The sharks in this sector are picky eaters.)"
I stared at the letter. The Admiral. The legendary pirate who supposedly controlled the ocean's black market economy.
This wasn't just a job offer. This was an invitation to a bigger league.
"Coordinates 404?" Miri tilted her head. "That's an Error code in Boss's system, right?"
"Yes," my smile slowly spread. Real Rax's smile. The smile of an opportunity hunter. "Looks like we just found a sanctuary for glitches."
I crumpled the paper, pocketing it.
"Miri, we're not renting a room tonight. We're shopping for logistics, buying maps, and robbing... I mean, borrowing navigation supplies."
"Where are we going, Boss?"
I stared at the dark sea stretching endlessly ahead. Beneath its surface, thousands of dead gods waited to become cards. And somewhere out there, a Ghost Admiral wanted to do business.
"We're going to meet new management," I said. "Time to turn The Glitch Shop into an international franchise."
And with that, I stepped into Rusty Anchor's darkness, ready to deceive anyone standing between me and a more profitable future.