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Memoirs of the Returnee-Chapter 237: Expansion (2)
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Expansion (2)
The process of synthesizing mana stones is as follows.
First, prepare the shell of a spent stone, which is a mana stone that has been depleted of its magical power.
Next, melt down the materials that will serve as the source of magical power. These materials, known as Artifacts, are typically the corpses of monsters or beasts, but living creatures can also be used.
Finally, crystallize the melted materials using the technicianβs unique βsynthesis formulaβ and insert it into the spent stone to complete the process.
βGo ahead and make one.β
Face gestured with his hand.
βOkay.β
I planned to synthesize the mana stone using Grawlβs method.
The process itself is not different from that of other technicians.
βI will operate the melting furnace.β
βββHold on a second.β
Just then, another set of footsteps rushed in. Face turned around with a frown on his face.
ββ¦β¦Crow.β
The third in command under Jesco, Crow.
He pushed his glasses up and nodded.
βIβve heard the news. Weβll be observing as well. Thatβs alright with you, isnβt it?β
While I was fine with it, Faceβs face had already turned dark and stormy. Crow paid him no mind and stepped forward.
βLetβs begin. Weβll see if youβre truly a technician.β
βYes.β
I looked at the melting furnace. Inside were the corpses of monsters that Grawl had prepared in advance.
Click- As I flipped the switch, the solvent rose. Leather, bones, internal organsβall of it bubbled and melted away.
Now the βsynthesis formulaβ is crucial.
What distinguishes a technician is precisely this synthesis formulaβthe task of βrecrystallizingβ the solvent with a formula that matches oneβs own magical power, nature, and characteristics.
βI will now synthesize.β
In that regard, Grawl is a master of the stone.
His ability to synthesize mana stones is naturally superior to any other technician, but for now, letβs keep it moderately controlled. If the quality is too good, that would also raise suspicion.
βAfter manifesting the synthesis formula I designed, I will circulate magical power at a certain ratioβ¦β
The formula manifested inside the melting furnace. It was the formula Grawl had devised, and the magical power from my R-elix flowed into it.
Whoooooshβ¦
The contents inside the furnace swirled and clung together as if caught in the wind. The once full liquid separated into two categories.
Some were dregs, some were synthesis crystals.
Now, inserting these crystals into the spent stone would complete the synthesized mana stone, and the dregs would be classified as first-class environmentally hazardous Artifact waste, which they would probably just bury in the ground or dump into the sea.
βItβs done.β
I implanted the synthesis crystal into the spent stone and then presented it to them.
Face simply nodded, while Crow showed a smile close to admiration.
ββ¦β¦You are indeed a technician.β
Immediately, a mask was placed over my face.
βAh. Donβt worry. The boss is calling for you. Take him nicely.β
It was Crowβs words.
In reality, I was almost lifted and placed onto the truck.
β¦β¦
I faced Jesco once again. Still in his robe over his bare body, he peered into my eyes and gave a somewhat strange smile.
βCrow seems to think well of you. Was it Belkman, your name?β
βAh, yes. Thank you.β
He chewed the inside of his mouth silently, not completely dispelling his suspicion as he slowly leaned in.
βYou said youβre from Krobs, right?β
βYes.β
βIs that school still there? I wonder if Trak, that old geezer, is still doing well.β
It was a probing question.
To see if I truly was someone who lived in Arahallβs Krobs.
This guy is indeed sharp.
But now, my γNotepadγ is filled with information about the village of Krobs. Even the most trivial details, like which child in the village is raising which scorpion.
βTrakβ¦ Are you referring to Sir Karakshil, the instructor at the school?β
Jescoβs expression shifted slightly.
βYeah. That old Karakshil geezer.β
βTo us, heβs Mr. Old Man.β
βHe must be getting on in years.β
Jesco idly touched his own wrinkles. It seemed odd to him that he had already passed his forties.
βYes. Itβs been quite some time since I left Krobsβ¦ but he was in good health back then. He even taught us the Edsilla common language.β
βThe common language? In that close-minded fart?β
Jescoβs eyes widened.
βIn our time, yes. He said if we couldnβt go against the flow of the times, we might as well embrace it, so he had someone fetch common language textbooks for us.β
βIt must have been tough crossing the sandstorms.β
Krobs is located in a very remote corner of Arahall. A tiny city of just over five thousand people. The sandstorms are so severe that the road out of the village is open only 3 to 4 days a month.
βStill, things are changing.β
βYeah, they have to change. That hot backwater, if it doesnβt change, everyone will burn up.β
Jesco chuckled.
βBrings back memories. In my time, we used to play games like tombstone tipping.β
βItβs still a popular game. The kids bet on tombstone tipping.β
βHas time stopped there?β
βIn a way, yes. But jeeps come and go quite frequently now. The caravans, you know.β
βJeeps? In my time, it was camels.β
βMr. Belcon also switched from camels to jeeps. Ironically, Krobs breed of camels has become more expensive than jeeps. Theyβre a tourist attraction now.β
βWait, Belcon? You mean that balding Belcon?β
βHeβs completely bald now.β
βHahahaha. Is that so?β
Jesco beamed with a bright smile. For a moment, he seemed to revert back to his younger days.
His chatter went on for a long time.
He called me Belkman and regaled me with quite a few tales of valor, and inquired about all sorts of people who were still in his hometown.
I responded with earnest enthusiasm.
ββ¦Iβve talked too much.β
Suddenly, Jesco spoke as if with sadness.
Now that he could no longer return to that desert.
βLetβs end the chatter here.β
He glanced at his watch and gestured with his hand.
βStep outside. Iβll let you know the rest after we discuss.β
βYes.β
I got up and walked out of his quarters. A few of his subordinates waiting in the corridor outside offered me a mask, butβ¦
βJust let him go. No need to put that crap on him.β
At Jescoβs words, they immediately stepped back.
* * *
ββ¦β
Quantum Mechanic, βJesco,β was momentarily lost in thought. Scenes of his homeland and the desert vividly flickered in his mind. The conversation about the desert had been quite enjoyable.
βBoss?β
At his subordinateβs call, he looked again at the synthetic mana stone in his hand. He tapped it lightly with his fingernail.
βNot bad.β
The quality wasnβt poor.
No, it was actually quite good. It might rank in the top 5% compared to those from his own factory. Similar in performance to a premium product that appears one in every twenty, this mana stone even had a consistent quality.
ββ¦β
Jesco rested his chin in his hand.
Top-grade synthetic mana stones pose a significantly lower risk to the human body, making them viable for use as drugs. Therefore, if he could continue to produce goods of this caliber, it meant he was dealing with an elite technician. An incredible gem.
And even more trustworthy as a fellow desert native.
βBoss. 3% of the net profits seems too high.β
Face said. Crow then slightly furrowed his brow.
βA technician of this caliber normally receives that much, Mr. Face.β
ββ¦Mr. Face? Since when did you start calling me βMr.β? Fuck.β
βBoss. Heβs a promising technician. 3% will be a bargain.β
3% of the net profits might seem insignificant at first glance,
But Jesco pays 51% of his net profits as tribute to βBlocker.β Itβs essentially the cost for recognizing his rights over the distribution network.
So, 3% out of the remaining 49% means heβs earning 2 to 3 times more than Face, who is second in command.
βIs it because heβs from the desert? We havenβt even confirmed if heβs really from the desert.β
βYou think I canβt make that distinction?β
Jescoβs face contorted in annoyance.
He had lived in Krobs for 23 years. He could naturally distinguish the native pronunciation and the unique accent of his homeland.
Above all, there were countless memories shared between himself and Belkman.
βThe voice of someone from home reminds you of the sandstorm. Itβs abrasive and hot, like high-temperature wind.β
Heβs definitely a fellow townsman. The only reason I didnβt shoot him dead on sight was just that.
Townspeople trust townspeople. I trust the sense of kinship with someone born in the inferior desert of Arahall, who came to Edsilla with vague passion and hope.
If a townsman canβt trust another townsman, then who the hell can you trust?
βExpand that guyβs factory equipment. Keep the net profits at 3%. If he can increase the volume, Iβm willing to increase the percentage,β Jesco instructed.
In that moment, Face secretly gritted his teeth, while Crow smiled, approving of the good decision.
* * *
Late at night.
I returned to Lithium. Sonya was sitting in the empty factory office with a whiskey.
βYouβre back.β
βYes.β ππ§πππ¬ππππΈπππ΅.ππΈπ
I sat down in front of her. She turned the tablet PC so that the camera could see both of us.
ββ¦How did it go?
Zia asked.
βIt looks like it will be a success.β
The plan moving forward is simple.
I will supply Jesco with synthetic mana stones. Gradually increasing the quality and quantity.
At the same time, I will build a rapport with Jesco.
People from the desert have a strong attachment to their natives. Having experienced it a few times before regression, it almost feels like itβs a genetically ingrained trait.
So, I will pretend to be a fellow townsman who respects, admires, and likes Jesco. I will curry his favor, live under his patronage, and act as if I would give him my liver and gallbladderβ¦
Then, at some point, I will suddenly disappear.
Without taking anything.
Without wanting anything.
Without deceiving anything.
The existence known as Belkman will crumble away like dust.
If I plant seeds of doubt along the way, like βFace seems to dislike me,β Jesco will naturally start to suspect his own ranks.
Itβs the prelude to division and downfall.
ββ¦Thatβs a relief. But, Derek is going to call Shion.
Sonya bit her lip slightly at the mention of Derek, and I tilted my head.
βAre you referring to me?β
βYesβ¦ Thereβs a missionβ¦ It could be very dangerousβ¦
A dangerous mission.
Zia mentioned it.
βItβs about Theia Esilβ¦
* * *
The next day.
As Zia said, I received a summons from the direct line of Libra.
Not Zia, not Jade, not even Johanna, but the eldest son, Derek.
He called me through a monitor.
Really, through a monitor.
ββ¦Iβm concerned whether itβs appropriate for me to meet Derek in such a manner.β
I was sitting at the desk in my dormitory, and Derek was on the laptop screen.
Facing the direct line through a mere monitor.
If it had been Jade, he would have probably detested it immensely. f(r)eenovelkiss
βTechnology is made to be utilized. I also donβt need to bother moving my body to meet with underlings, so itβs quite convenient.
On the other hand, Derek, although his entire body was mosaic-ed black due to the influence of an artifact, was clearly a person without prejudice in this regard.
βBut I heard you recommended the cafe business to Jade.
A snicker, something akin to a scoff, mocking Jade.
βYes.β
βRight, itβs a business that suits Jade well. Better to invest the money you have in something you care about. It was a good recommendation.
Derekβs voice carried a hint of laughter as he began, but it soon turned rigid.
βYouβve probably heard the gist from Zia.
ββ¦β¦Yes.β
βAs you know, the Intelligence Agency has shares owned by the direct line, but I hold the ownership. Therefore, Iβve preemptively obtained information about what kind of scheme a mere professor named βTheia Esilβ is plotting against Libra.
Derek tilted his head slightly.
βThe operation is simple. Theia Esil. We will bring that woman to ruin.
I nodded calmly.
βOf course, youβre not the one in charge. Itβs not something you can be responsible for. The main actors will be my balancers. They will convey the details to you butβ¦
Derek paused for a moment, looking into my face as he asked.
βWill you participate? Iβve intentionally borrowed you for Zia, but your own intentions are also important.
Theia Esil.
She was my former teacher, an enemy of Libra, and ultimately a tragic person who would be defeated and killed by Libra.
ββ¦β¦I.β
However, not in this operation.
The death of Theia Esil is an event at least five years away.
It means this operation will fail.
βI am not qualified to participate in such a grand operation. Especially if itβs the work of the balancers.β
ββ¦β¦Hmm.
Derek had a peculiar expression, but it was better than excessive confidence.
βYou mean to refuse?
βI would like to help. I am in a position where I can observe Professor Theia Esil closely. Because I am a student attending her lectures. So.β
This mission is doomed to fail anyway.
I donβt want to get involved and be blamed for the failure, nor do I particularly want to ensure its success.
βPerhaps I could simply carry out the orders provided by the balancers or offer very minor adviceβ¦β
Just that, nothing more.
Not getting my feet wet, nor completely stepping out, but a vague position.
ββ¦β¦Fine. You have perfect self-objectivity. Iβll pass it on to the balancer soon. The balancer will come to you.
βYes. Thank you.β
Clickβ.
The communication was cut off.
I looked out the window with a small smile on my face.
ββ¦β¦You must have heard.β
Now, this information has been leaked to Theia Esil.
Derek doesnβt know, but thereβs an inside line to Theia Esil.
Among the direct line, thereβs a spy specifically monitoring Derek, planted by her.
βHmmβ¦β¦.β
What I need to do now is simple.
To watch as Derek faces defeat at the hands of Theia Esil.