CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43

The man burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! You’re hilarious, brother. If you die, won’t your stuff be mine anyway? Why would I spare you?"

Clayton didn’t argue. He stayed silent, his face calm—but in his eyes, a flicker of defiance remained.

The man was taken aback by Clayton’s composure. Who would’ve thought this seemingly young kid would be so resilient? If they weren’t careful, they might end up dead instead.

Unconsciously, he started seeing Clayton as a potential genius. There was something exhilarating about playing with someone that capable.

"How about this? I let you live... but on one condition," he offered.

"What condition?" Clayton asked flatly.

His calm response made the man wary. Where was this kid getting his confidence? Was he bluffing... or did he have something hidden?

The man studied him carefully but found no hints. Clayton even appeared to be injured—his arm hung limp at his side, and he held it protectively.

From the looks of it, Clayton didn’t have the strength to resist. And yet, that unshakable calm was unnerving.

"I’ll let you live if you agree to become my slave for a hundred years. Or... you can crawl and lick my boots like a dog. Who knows, I might be in a generous mood and let you go," he said with a twisted grin.

Clayton was silent for a moment. Then, his expression shifted as if he were giving in. Slowly, he began lowering his body—seemingly in submission.

The scar-faced man lit up, excitement gleaming in his eyes. The feeling of dominance was intoxicating. In a world ruled by magic, there was nothing sweeter than power.

So what if you’re a genius? In the end, you’re still groveling at my feet, he thought, laughing inwardly.

But just as Clayton was halfway down, he suddenly straightened back up and scoffed.

"Not interested."

The man froze, as if struck by lightning. His smug satisfaction shattered, and for a moment, he was speechless. When he finally collected himself, all he could do was clench his jaw.

He forced a smile and asked again, "Are you sure? Life’s precious. Who knows—I might change my mind and make you rich. Or if I end up dead later, won’t you be the one laughing last?"

Clayton remained unmoved.

The man sighed, lowering his voice. "You’re no fun. Wouldn’t it be a waste for someone like you to die here?"

Clayton shrugged. "Waste or not, that’s subjective. But what’s the point of living as a slave or a dog, only to be killed later? I’d rather die with dignity than live groveling. I was born a human—with pride."

The man narrowed his eyes. "How arrogant."

"Fine. Since you’ve made your choice, no point dragging this out. Let’s hear your final words, brother."

His two companions readied their weapons, while the scar-faced man stepped forward, sneering.

But Clayton only smiled, calm and composed, and said softly, almost mockingly,

"In your next life... try being a decent person, brother."

The man didn’t catch it clearly. Clayton’s expression confused him. People about to die should be terrified. Why did this one look... pleased?

He raised an eyebrow. "What did you say, brother?"

"Hehe... Oh, nothing. I meant: Fire in the hole!"

The odd phrase made the three of them glance at each other. They didn’t get it.

"What the he—"

BOOM!

A blinding flash erupted, engulfing the area in searing light.

"SHIT!" the man screamed, panic setting in. He realized too late he had made a grave mistake.

He tried to run, but it was far too late. They were too close to Clayton—there was no time to escape.

KABOOM!

The explosion rocked the air. A towering, mushroom-shaped cloud surged ten meters high.

Chaos consumed the area.

Moments later, the dust began to settle. Visibility returned. The ground was torn to pieces, and a massive crater marked the center of the blast.

Near the crater’s edge, a teenage boy gasped for air, his face pale, eyes darting in all directions.

"Damn... that thing’s way stronger than I thought," Clayton muttered.

It turned out to be a magic scroll he had just purchased. He had originally planned to use it to buy time and test its power. At first, he figured he’d need two or three scrolls to escape—but one was more than enough to obliterate everything nearby.

In truth, the scroll itself wasn’t extraordinarily powerful. It was how he used it that made the difference. After all, even boiling water can burn—especially when splashed directly on the skin.

Not wanting to attract more trouble, Clayton quickly cleaned up and made his way home. That explosion would undoubtedly draw attention.

Exhausted and wounded, he pushed forward. In his condition, another ambush could mean death. Thankfully, he arrived home—late, but safe. The sky was already dark by then.

After resting a while, Clayton reflected on the battle. He realized how weak he still was. He hadn’t fully mastered the three new skills he’d bought, and he lacked a proper finishing move.

With a heavy sigh, Clayton began sorting through the loot he’d taken from the attackers.

To his disappointment, all he found were strange ice stones. It seemed the men had been smugglers.

Most likely, they had caused chaos on purpose to ruin competing stalls’ reputations, making it easier to sell their ice stones at inflated prices.

Clayton didn’t care about their motives. What annoyed him was that there was nothing of value. Worse yet, the ice stones were empty—no cores, no magic.

Frustrated, he tossed them aside and opened the package of items he’d bought earlier.

Soon, he pulled out a pouch filled with fine, crushed stones—almost like shimmering sand. A flicker of hope lit in his eyes.

He walked over to a planter—the one where he had planted the mysterious seed some time ago.

He stared at it for a moment. No significant changes. Still, he carefully sprinkled the crushed stones over the soil.

The moment the powder spread evenly, something extraordinary happened.

The stones melted into the soil, and at the same time... the strange plant began to grow—wildly.