In the morning, I sent the girls off, giving them money for a taxi and promising we'd meet again. I carved out a couple of hours for sleep to clear my head—both of them.
Over breakfast, I browsed my tablet and was pleasantly surprised to see my reputation at "+4": "+3" for closing the Rift, "+1" for reporting and tending to the deceased. Hmm… Seems the lives of seven Slayers were worth far less than one closed Rift.
I also checked jelly prices. The Center for Slayers reliably bought such rare resources. Prices fluctuated, resembling a stock market chart. Likely driven by supply and demand, as expected.
After breakfast, I sent my only decent suit to the hotel's dry cleaner and dressed in sportswear, swapping boots for light sneakers. I looked reckless and foolish—like a tardy gym-goer or a petty thug. I should invest in a proper wardrobe, but for now… this'll do.
A taxi awaited me at the main entrance. I tossed my backpack in and hopped inside.
"Archip's Legendary Weapons, please!"
"Yes, Lord Slayer!" the driver replied. No matter my attire, a Slayer's ring commands respect.
"Pleased to see you again, Lord Galaktionov!" Archip greeted with a broad smile.
"Greetings, Archip!" I returned a genuine smile, extending my hand first. I'd noticed this gesture from aristocrats toward commoners often caused unease, but not with the old armorer. There's likely a reason for that.
"What's your pleasure today?" the giant asked once formalities were done.
"I'd like to show you something, and if we agree on a price, sell it."
"I'd be delighted to take a look!" A spark of interest flickered in his eyes.
"Let's start simple," I said, placing a jelly on the counter. I'd rinsed them of blood and brains in my room and washed the bag.
Without hesitation, Archip named a price.
"One hundred thirty-three rubles!"
Greedy old man! Exactly one ruble above today's Center price.
"That doesn't seem fair," I smiled. "The Center adds reputation for jellies, and one ruble's difference feels insultingly low."
The old man chuckled.
"I had to try."
"Try again, then," I smiled back.
"Well… let's say one hundred fifty, and 'honored clients' get better offers."
"Hah! How do I become one?"
"In time, Lord Slayer, in time!"
"Fair enough," I nodded. "Works for me."
I dumped eight more jellies on the counter, keeping five for myself, just in case.
"Whoa!" Archip exclaimed. "When'd you find time? How many raids?"
"One," I said modestly, watching his gray eyebrows shoot up.
"You're full of surprises, Lord Galaktionov!"
"So I am," I agreed. "There's more."
I laid out the coin, shackles, and ore piece one by one.
"Let's do this… on trust?" I suggested.
"Agreed," he nodded. "Something tells me you'll be a profitable client. Perhaps… we'll even become friends."
I smiled and stayed silent. Archip donned his shopkeeper's mask.
"Arcian coin. Common loot, low value. Slightly pricier than our gold. Twenty-two rubles. The metal… standard, but usable for Slayer weapons. Five rubles per kilo…" He pulled scales from under the counter. "Six kilos—thirty rubles. Now, the interesting bit. Spider ore. Found where spiders dwell. Not top-tier, but better than regular steel. Was there a vein?"
I hesitated but answered honestly.
"No clue!"
"Pity! It's decent material, profitable."
"Not seeing myself as a miner," I smirked.
"No need!" he said. "There are trained folks for that."
"Explain," I shook my head.
"Let's say," he mused, "I know guys who'll mine a vein dry. Honest, reliable. You name the location, then forget it. Your cut's forty percent. They take fifty, and I get a modest ten for brokering."
"Worth it?" I asked, surprised.
"Judge for yourself," he weighed the ore. "Two and a half kilos. Fifteen rubles per kilo—thirty-seven rubles fifty kopecks. A vein's usually around a hundred kilos."
I did the math. Forty percent of fifteen rubles per kilo—six hundred rubles! Comparable to Rift jellies, and I do nothing. Definitely worth it.
"I'll check it out," I nodded. "Taking these?"
"Absolutely! Total… one thousand four hundred thirty-nine and fifty. Round to forty!"
Not bad at all. Though, typically, this is split among a group, which isn't as thrilling. Still, this was a beginner Rift. Veteran Slayers must be filthy rich—while they're alive, that is.
"Buying anything?"
"A sword! Same as before," I grumbled.
"What happened to the last one?"
"Broke," I admitted, feeling awkward.
"Why didn't you bring it?" he asked, surprised.
"Why would I?"
"Material, Alexander! It's worth money!"
Damn it! He's right! I didn't think. Another reason to revisit the Rift.
"So, you'll sell me another?"
"Not the same," he said slowly, eyeing my reaction. "It's… ahem… unique stock, irregular supply." Right, I know where your "stock" comes from.
I just smiled and nodded.
"One moment!" He vanished into the back, returning with two short swords and a saber.
I glanced and grimaced.
"No good."
"All within your budget," he shrugged.
"I need a sword," I said firmly. "Cheapest you've got."
"One moment," Archip ducked into the back again, returning with two swords.
"Two thousand five hundred and three thousand seven hundred."
Swords like the last—junk, but someone fancied them up with stones in the guard and sheath, likely for gullible aristocrats who love shiny things. Clowns…
I took the cheaper one, bid Archip farewell, and left his shop. This time, I felt like walking and strolled to my hotel.
One more thing: Archip mentioned that if I "accidentally" come across Slayer weapons or gear, he'd buy them at a fair price. We understood each other.
During my walk, I summoned Shnyrka and tasked him with retrieving the broken sword pieces from the Rift and checking for a vein. Sadly, he couldn't. I sensed him drawing energy from me—his own wasn't enough for such a distant trip.
Shnyrka's soul-bound to me and can't stray too far. For now. He's not fully recovered. I remember him—and myself—in my past life.
If I had my old body here, I wouldn't need a ring or anything else. I'd walk into any clan, declare myself lord, and ninety-nine percent chance the Emperor himself would hand me the deed, plus introduce his daughters, just in case one caught my eye.
Ultimately, I had to check for the vein myself. Money isn't critical—Hunters always need it—but we hate leaving loot behind. If I cleared the Rift, the spoils are mine.
I called Andrey.
"Hey, Andryukha! Know anything about veins and Rift ore?" I got to the point.
"Hold on… I'm in a lecture…" he whispered, then silence for a couple of minutes. "Okay, I'm here. What exactly do you want to know?"
"Everything about veins! Found a piece of ore, and they say there might be a whole vein, but I've never heard of this," I explained.
"Found? You've been in a Rift already? When? You just graduated!" he exclaimed. "Though, why am I surprised? You're too weird. You couldn't have heard about veins—or much else. You skipped lectures."
"I told you, I didn't skip—I was busy! Sleep doesn't sleep itself. Quick, enlighten me, and I'll take you clubbing for girls next time," I teased, knowing it annoys him.
"Pass… On ore, Rifts have various veins, priced differently. Read up on the site. The squad that logs the Rift closure gets mining rights, or they can sell them. That's all you need for now."
"Thanks, I owe you," I said, hanging up.
Where am I? I'd wandered aimlessly while talking and ended up on an unfamiliar street.
"Vitek's Fur Hats"
Why would I need fur hats? Curious shop.
The display was filled with various fur hats, yet I hadn't seen anyone wearing them.
Using Shnyrka, I located the parked taxi and headed there. The driver took me to the Rift, where no soldiers remained, but a verification stamp next to my signature confirmed the closure.
The bodies of the fools I killed were gone, leaving no trace.
I entered the Rift calmly, ready for anything, but it was silent. Nothing and no one.
"Get to work, friend," I ordered my assistant.
He emerged from the shadows, licked his lips eagerly, and vanished.
It took him five minutes. He found nothing—no ore, no veins. Empty.
So, a wasted trip, but now I'm sure I missed nothing. How'd that ore piece get here?
I considered hitting another Rift but paused, deep in thought… I lack a base or stash for my loot. The hotel's fine, but fifty rubles a day isn't cheap, and there's little space. They'd hardly let me haul in whatever I fancy.
Like now—I've got broken sword pieces in my backpack. Not sure their value, but recouping anything is good.
I realized reclaiming my estate soon is unlikely, and its condition is unknown. I need a place to live. Buy a house or apartment? Good idea, but where's the money? Steal or earn it.
"Shnyrka, come here!" I called.
He appeared instantly.
"Wha-n-n-ada?" the sly face asked.
"Go steal me… money!" Let's try this.
Shnyrka's jaw dropped, then closed. He looked around, thought, shrugged, and dove into the shadows.
Why not? Maybe it'll work.
It didn't. I sat by the portal for thirty minutes, staring at the sky, hoping money would fall. It didn't…
Shnyrka let me down too. He emerged, dumping two handfuls of coins and crumpled bills. An old, rotting wallet held four rubles in small change. Two five-ruble notes, looking like a moose chewed and spat them out. Hopefully spat…
Plus assorted coins totaling eleven rubles twenty-five kopecks.
Honestly, I didn't expect him to find money in a field, but he seemed to use a metal detector, digging holes. Good boy. Wait—what's this? I missed a thin silver ring on the grass. Maybe a woman's… ten rubles, tops.
This is child's play. No money for an apartment. Basic housing for the middle class costs twenty to thirty thousand, but I'm not used to such hovels—I want a mansion. A good fighter lives well.
For now, my only option is to rent.
I called Andrey, figuring he'd know. No answer—probably stuck in a lecture. I'll handle it myself.
I trudged to find transport. Maybe five or ten kilometers to civilization.
A kind taxi driver took me to a real estate agency he recommended. I love taxis here—they're like mini-encyclopedias, knowing and helping with everything.
The agency's office was near the city center, suggesting high status. Likely a good fit. Things moved quickly. A young woman listened to my preferences and displayed twenty options on a screen, prices listed. I dismissed some immediately—fifteen thousand for a lavish mansion was beyond me.
But a two-thousand-a-month apartment in a quiet residential district? That I took.
Well, "apartment"… two levels, two hundred square meters…
Yes, I love comfort and luxury.
Renting was simple. Pay, and it's yours.
Some buy and furnish properties, then rent them through such firms without meeting tenants.
Two thousand isn't cheap, but I didn't care. I rented for a month, with the option to extend.
Thus, I acquired temporary housing.
The apartment was intriguing, on the top floor of a nine-story building. It had a private attic, gym, four bedrooms, and two bathrooms.
I called the bedrooms storage. There was a separate storage room too.
Now I had a place to return to. The consultant drove with me, showed everything, and took my payment. I was nearly broke.
I returned to the hotel, gathered my few belongings, and moved to my new home.
I messaged Andrey that I'd rented a place, sending the address for visits.
A concierge downstairs maintained order and offered services.
"If you need cleaning, I'll arrange it. Just say the word, and I'll send people. It's paid, but you understand, young man," she was businesslike, explaining everything. "We can also arrange cooking or, say, a banquet. There are girls, but you'll handle that… I can provide trusted contacts."
Prostitution's fine, but I respect myself too much. I can find a woman for the night. I'm not ugly, and I recall how it's done from my past life. Plus, easy women bored me back then. Here, I crave variety. Maybe shack up with a princess? Her husband might object, but that's a later problem.
Sitting in the apartment, I reflected. This is great, but I must move forward. Expenses and tasks pile up.
I tallied my budget—disastrous!
Since hitting a Rift today isn't wise, I'll inquire about my signet and estate. I've never seen it. Maybe I'm overthinking, and it's a rotting shack.
The concierge helped again. For five rubles, she directed me to the right place and called a taxi. Love the service!
I'm off to the city administration to reclaim what's mine!