CHAPTER 42: CH-42- I’M RICH

Cisco. The bustling city sounds, the clatter of cars, the murmur of the crowd..faded into a dull, meaningless roar. He stood frozen on the cobblestones, a man witnessing the ghost of his own future wealth vanish into thin air.

I don’t have any.

The words echoed, a death knell for his grand plans. How? How had he been so wrong? He’d seen the power, the arrogance, the sheer otherworldly presence! People with that kind of demeanor didn’t not have money! It was against the natural order!

His mind raced, frantically searching for a single clue he’d missed, a sign that should have warned him he was guiding a walking, talking bankruptcy.

Then, his eyes, sharpened by years of appraising anything of value, snagged on a glint of polished metal. The ring on Baelgor’s finger. It was an elegant, understated piece, but it hummed with a faint, potent energy he could almost feel from a pace away. A spatial ring. A high-grade one, by the look of it.

Hope, desperate and wild, flared in his chest. The ring! If I can get that, it has to be worth something. The contents alone... it could be ten million! Maybe more!

He sucked in a sharp breath, forcing his merchant’s mask back into place, smoothing the panic from his features.

"My lord," he said, his voice only slightly strained. "A moment. What about that ring on your finger?"

Baelgor looked down, a flicker of idle curiosity in his ancient eyes. He remembered the previous owner, a noisy hunter who had stumbled into his dungeon chambers, waving a sword. The man had fetched the weapon from this very ring. Baelgor had found the trinket pretty and had taken it as a minor trophy, never giving it another thought.

How did he do it?

Baelgor pondered. Ah, yes. He channeled a trickle of energy into it.

With the casual ease of one breathing, Baelgor let a minuscule wisp of his mana flow into the ring.

There was a soft pop of displaced air.

A single, perfectly cut mana crystal, roughly the size of a child’s fist, materialized in his palm. It was not just any crystal; it was of transcendent purity, humming with such dense, raw power that the air around it shimmered. It glowed with a deep, ethereal blue light, casting dancing azure patterns on Baelgor’s impassive face.

Completely oblivious to the value of what he held, Baelgor extended his hand toward Cisco, his expression one of mild inquiry. "What about this?" he asked, pointing at the crystal.

Cisco’s eyes landed on the gem.

His jaw unhinged.

All the air left his lungs in a silent whoosh. His professional composure evaporated, replaced by pure, unadulterated avarice and shock. He wasn’t looking at a crystal; he was looking at a kingdom. A fleet of ships. A mansion that would make the Guild Master’s look like a toolshed.

That single crystal was worth more than the entire annual revenue of some minor noble houses. It was the kind of treasure that started wars. And this... this... being had just produced it like it was a common pebble he’d found on the ground.

The death sentence he’d felt moments ago was commuted. Not to a pardon, but to a lottery win of cosmic proportions.

Cisco’s brain short-circuited. The word that escaped his lips was less a word and more a strangled exhale of pure, undiluted shock.

"Whaaattt?!"

His eyes bulged, darting from the impossibly pure mana crystal in Baelgor’s hand to the simple spatial ring on his finger.

"Where did you get it from? From the ring?" he stammered, even though he already knew the answer.

Of course it was from the ring. But that wasn’t the point. The point was the sheer, staggering casualness of it all. Spatial artifacts were rare, yes, but useless to someone like Cisco who lacked the mana to open them. His plan had been to pawn the ring itself to a wealthy hunter for a tidy sum. He’d never dreamed the contents would be... this.

Baelgor observed Cisco’s reaction, the wide eyes, the trembling hands, the sheer reverence plastered across his face. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of amusement crossed his mind.

It seems these humans have an immense adoration for this particular type of stone, he mused. How peculiar. They build their society on paper, yet they covet shiny rocks. I suppose this will suffice. His internal monologue was a mix of bewilderment and condescending pity. Ah, humans. Always finding value in the weirdest of things.

"Take it, human," Baelgor said, his voice flat and utterly bored. He tossed the crystal toward Cisco as if discarding a piece of lint. "I hope it can substitute for that paper you call ’money’."

The crystal sailed through the air in a shimmering arc. Cisco lunged for it, his movements frantic, fumbling the catch before finally clutching it to his chest as if it were a newborn child. A sensation of pure, electric glee shot through him from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. He held his breath, afraid he might somehow tarnish it.

With trembling, expert hands, he brought the crystal up to his eye. This was his element. Before he became a guide-for-hire and a professional opportunist, he had been an appraiser. His fingers traced the perfect, flawless facets. He felt the deep, resonant hum of power within, a vibration so potent it made his teeth ache. He judged its weight, its clarity, the way it seemed to drink the sunlight and glow with its own inner fire.

His professional assessment hit him like a physical blow.

’Oh, heavens...’

he thought, his internal voice a hysterical whisper.

’This... this is a high-grade mana crystal. The purity... it has to be over seventy percent! This is worth... this is worth at least seventy million!’

The number echoed in his skull, dizzying, life-altering. Seventy million. He could buy a city block. He could retire. He could live in a mansion with servants and never worry about guild politics or even needing to scam people for Money.

And this... this incomprehensible young lord had produced it with less ceremony than a man pulling a used handkerchief from his pocket. He didn’t just have money; he had generational, world-altering wealth and no concept of it. To him, it was a pretty rock, a means to shut up his annoying guide.

A wave of delirious euphoria washed over Cisco. He felt lightheaded.

It seems my ancestors haven’t forgotten me yet!

he thought, a manic grin spreading across his face. To think I was ready to quit! This is nothing but an answer to my prayers!

Visions of luxury exploded in his mind: sleek, self-driving carriages without a single beast to pull them; silken robes finer than any guild master’s; a sprawling estate overlooking the city; the finest foods and wines every day. This wasn’t just a payday. This was a rebirth.

Oblivious to the life-changing fantasy unfolding beside him, Baelgor watched the human’s bizarrely ecstatic reaction with detached curiosity.

"Well?"

Baelgor prompted, his tone implying that the matter of the ’paper’ should be settled. "Does the shiny rock suffice?"

"My good lord,"

Cisco said, the words dripping with honeyed deference. A smile was permanently etched onto his face, so wide it threatened to split his cheeks. He held the single, world-altering crystal gingerly. "This will more than suffice as a substitute!"

When Baelgor gave a dismissive nod and a flat, "Very good," Cisco’s mind, ever the opportunist, began to whirr at lightning speed. He didn’t even flinch. Not a single muscle twitched. He has no idea. No idea at all. A dangerous, intoxicating greed began to uncoil within him, bolder now. If one crystal is this easy... what about more?

He adopted a thoughtful, concerned expression, the picture of a loyal servant planning for his master’s future.

"But, my lord," he began, his voice laced with false worry, "if you wish to procure a house fitting for your magnificent stature... a truly suitable abode for your... mating pursuits... you will need at least a hundred of these."

He held his breath, watching Baelgor closely. This was the test. This would determine if he was dealing with a moderately wealthy fool or a bottomless well of unimaginable riches.

Baelgor heard the number and felt a wave of relief. Just a hundred of these insignificant stones? he thought, his internal voice brimming with amusement.

Very good. I see more than a thousand just piled in a corner of this ring. They are surplus, useless decorations in my dungeon. I used them to illuminate the lesser hallways. If this is all it takes to navigate this human world, then it will not be complicated at all.

Oblivious to the seismic shift in fortune he was about to cause, Baelgor willed the ring to obey. He didn’t even need to channel mana; a mere thought was enough for a trinket of this level.

Pop. Pop-pop-pop-pop.

The air around them crackled. In a breathtaking, blinding cascade, a hundred mana crystals materialized out of thin air. They spilled onto the cobblestones between them, a glittering, roaring river of pure power. Each one was a masterpiece of nature, larger and purer than the last, their purity ranging from a staggering seventy to eighty percent. They didn’t just glow; they blazed, emitting a light so intense and pure it was like a small sun had descended onto the street. The air hummed with so much concentrated mana that it made the hairs on the arms of nearby standers stand on end.

Cisco’s heart stopped. His jaw, which had just recovered, dropped open once more. All sound vanished. The world shrunk to the glorious, shimmering mountain of wealth now piled at his feet. The single crystal had promised him a new life; this promised dynasties.

With a speed born of pure avarice, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small, worn leather pouch. It was his most prized possession: a spatial bag, a lesser cousin to Baelgor’s ring, but incredibly rare for a non-hunter. He muttered a quick activation word and began shoveling the crystals inside, his hands trembling not with fear, but with frantic, unadulterated joy. The small pouch swallowed the entire heap without bulging, the magic within easily accommodating the fortune.

As the last crystal disappeared into the bag, which shrank back to fit snugly in his palm, something in Cisco snapped. The pressure of the day, the whiplash from despair to mind-bending wealth, was too much.

He clutched the pouch to his chest, looked up at the sky, and let out a sound that was half-sob, half-triumphant roar.

"I’M RICH! HAHAHA! I’M RICH!!!!!!!"

His laughter was unhinged, manic, echoing off the city walls. He danced a little jig on the spot, completely forgetting where he was or who he was with.

A small boy nearby, holding his mother’s hand, pointed a chubby finger. "Mommy," he asked, "why is that man laughing like a crazy person?"

His mother, eyeing Cisco’s disheveled appearance and deranged expression, pulled her son close with a look of profound disdain.

"Hush, dear," she said, steering him sharply away. "Don’t look. That’s what happens to people who are alone and forty. Now come along."

Baelgor watched Cisco’s hysterical celebration with the same detached curiosity he’d give a dog chasing its tail. The human’s fascination with the shiny rocks was bizarre, but ultimately useful. It seemed to motivate him.