Chapter 6. Made in China

  Normally, this is the kind of event where the protagonist, Kyle, crashes through a window and saves the day in style. But right now, Kyle was raiding a fortress on the other side of the planet. He couldn't be here.

  Which left only the terrified Tom, the fleeing citizens, and Ren himself.

  “H-Hey, Ren! What do we do? Request backup? It’ll take SWAT at least 20 minutes to get here!” Tom stared at Ren, on the verge of tears.

  Ren slowly started walking toward the terrorist.

  “Hey! Are you crazy? I said stay back!” The terrorist shouted in a panic.

  Usually, the cops would cower in fear or try to negotiate, but this deadpan patrolman was trudging toward him like he was strolling to the neighborhood grocery store.

  “Stop! I'll really press it! I swear!”

  The terrorist's thumb rested on the detonator button. The citizens squeezed their eyes shut. Ren didn't stop. His eyes scanned the vest the bomber wore, analyzing the tangled mess of mana circuits.

  It was crude. A homemade bomb slapped together using blueprints floating around the internet. But the firepower, at least, was the real deal.

  When Ren was about five meters away from the terrorist, he spoke.

  “Press it.” “……What?” The terrorist wore a dumbfounded expression. “I said, press it. Your arm must be getting tired.”

  Silence fell over the area. Tom's jaw dropped, and the citizens watching from their hiding spots were appalled. Was this cop insane?

  The terrorist's face flushed deep red, then purple. The sheer disrespect made his blood boil.

  “Y-You crazy son of a bitch... Fine! Let's all die together!”

  Click. He pressed the button with all his might. The citizens' screams erupted.

  ……Tink.

  Nothing happened. Instead of a deafening explosion, there was only the pathetic sound of plastic clicking.

  “Huh?”

  The panicked terrorist pressed the button again.

  Tink. Tink. Tink.

  Still quiet. The mana tubes had lost their red glow and were now dead and black.

  “W-What the? What's going on? Why isn't this going off!” He shook and smacked the detonator.

  Naturally, this was Ren's doing. The exact moment the button was pressed, Ren had altered the property of the mana conductor inside the bomb from a ‘conductor’ to an ‘insulator.’ Just as electricity cannot pass through rubber, the detonation signal disintegrated into thin air before it could even reach the bomb.

  Manipulation of physical laws. He had essentially used the power of a god just to create a dud.

  “Looks like the batteries are dead,” Ren said calmly. “Th-That's impossible! I just put fresh ones in this morning! These are mana cells!” “Must be made in China.” “No! They're top-grade domest— Ugh!”

  The flustered terrorist threw the detonator and reached into his jacket to pull out a dagger.

  Subduing the guy wouldn't be hard. But then the narrative would get weird. In the eyes of the citizens, he'd be the 'fearless, crazy cop' who caught the culprit. Interview requests would pour in, and it would only be a matter of time before his identity was exposed. Sure, he could just wipe their memories, but that was even more of a hassle.

  Ren took a subtle step back and turned his head toward Tom, who was still standing there blankly.

  “Tom!”

  Ren's voice was calm, but it held a power that snapped Tom wide awake. He might look like an idiot, but Tom was still a strictly trained police officer. Honestly, the only reason he looked like an idiot was because he kept experiencing bizarre things back-to-back that normal people never went through. Probably.

  “Huh? Wha—?!”

  Operating on sheer reflex, Tom launched himself forward. The terrorist, whose mental state was in shambles over the dud bomb, was helplessly tackled by Tom's massive frame.

  Crash!

  “L-Let go of me! Let go!” “S-Stay still! I'm adding obstruction of justice, attempted terrorism, and attempted murder to your charges!”

  Tom twisted the terrorist's arm and slapped the cuffs on him. Situation clear.

  The silence shattered instantly as the citizens erupted into cheers.

  “Waaaah! We lived!” “That cop did it!” “He threw himself at the bomber the moment he realized it was a dud! Amazing!”

  Smartphone camera flashes went off from every direction. The spotlight was pouring entirely onto Tom, who was sitting on top of the culprit, panting heavily. Ren naturally slipped to the back of the crowd.

  “Hey... Ren? This is...”

  After handing the terrorist over, Tom approached with a troubled expression. He had a conscience, after all. If Ren hadn't drawn the bomber's attention and confirmed the bomb was a dud, Tom never would have been able to step up.

  “You did all the work. You were the one who shook his mental state.” “Just write in the report that you did everything.” “What? Hey, that's a lie. Everyone saw...”

  Ren brushed some dust off Tom's shoulder and spoke in a low voice.

  “People only remember the final scene anyway. And Tom. Your performance evaluation score is hanging by a thread this month, isn't it?”

  Tom was a guy who constantly caused trouble; at this rate, missing out on his promotion was a guarantee.

  “……Uh? Well, yeah, but.” “I have no desire for a promotion. You know that. I despise extra paperwork.”

  Ren didn't smile, but he put on a perfectly convincing, apathetic expression.

  “You need the points, and I need a quiet end to my shift. Besides, it's a fact that you threw yourself at him, isn't it? I just stood to the side and talked.” “T-That's true, I guess...” “Let's just take what we both need. It's a win-win. Buy me dinner.”

  Tom's eyes wavered, then shone with resolve. Ren wasn't wrong. Above all, Ren was a guy who truly hated anything bothersome.

  “Alright! But I'm buying something really expensive! How about premium fatty tuna?” “Sounds good. I'll be looking forward to it.”

  Ren gave a light wave and disappeared into the crowd. Tom was quickly surrounded by reporters again, sheepishly beginning his interviews. It was a flawless wrap-up.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  ‘I'm 15 minutes past my clock-out time.’

  Ren quickened his pace. Today was the last day of the supermarket sale. The opportunity to buy a carton of eggs at a 30% discount was a much more crucial and urgent matter than a bomb threat.

  *

  That night on the news.

  [Breaking News. Attempted bombing at Central Station! Major catastrophe averted thanks to a dud bomb.] [The brave cane of the citizens, Officer Tom! "I do not fear risking my life for the people." His interview goes viral.]

  On the screen, a flushed Tom was acting humble, saying, "It was a great coordinated play with my partner." Ren watched the scene from his sofa, peeling a mandarin orange.

  It worked out well. Tom got his promotion points, and Ren got his peace. A fairly rational conclusion.

  Thankfully, the Saintess hadn't intervened this time. Then again, she wouldn't bother making an appearance for a mere dud bomb incident. Right now, she was probably discussing the fate of the world deep within the Grand Cathedral or suffering headaches over the election of the next Pope. A commotion of this level would surely be written off as an 'equipment malfunction' by the lower-ranking Inquisitors and brushed aside.

  Ren popped the last piece of orange into his mouth.

  *

  The next day.

  The social hierarchy of Arc City was as clear-cut as a pyramid. At the very top were the ‘Mages,’ born with innate talent. They graduated from the Archeon Academy and lived in Sky City, taking up key positions in the city government or as directors of mega-corporations.

  Right below them were the ‘Espers’ and ‘Martial Artists.’ While they lacked the absolute authority of Mages, they were still elites operating on a different level from ordinary people. Hailing from the ‘Psionic Lab’ or the ‘Vargr Academy,’ they mostly worked as highly-paid mercenaries, private bodyguards, or special forces operators.

  And at the very bottom were the regular civil servants and commoners like Ren.

  “Whoa. The ‘Black Mamba’ mercenary group is recruiting newbies. The annual salary is a whopping 300 million credits! 300 million!”

  Inside the patrol car, Tom waved his tablet, making a fuss. The screen flashed with a recruitment ad featuring a muscular martial artist roaring with a massive greatsword.

  Ren nonchalantly turned the steering wheel and replied, “Pretty cheap for the price of a life.” “Hey, do you not have any dreams? If I had even one superpower, I'd apply to a place like that. You're in the same boat. Merely having a knack for tinkering with machines won't get you into a mercenary group.”

  Tom's words were half right and half wrong. If Ren wanted to, he could subdue the commander of that mercenary group with a single finger and take the seat for himself. Just the commander? He could swallow the entire organization whole.

  Regardless, the life of a mercenary was exhausting. You had to smell blood, be dragged around everywhere, and above all, constantly fight to prove your strength. Being a lowly patrol cop with guaranteed clock-out times and weekends off was infinitely better.

  This was the job given to him when he became ‘Ren.’ There was no need to strive for it, no need to explain it, and most importantly, practically no one paid attention to him. At least, the beings capable of influencing the flow of the world didn't.

  Sure, he had gotten slightly tangled up with the Saintess, but that was a once-in-three-years occurrence, so he could consider it an exception.

  *

  “Hey. Ren. Are you really doing this? Are you planning to bankrupt me completely?”

  District 19's high-end Japanese restaurant, ‘Song of the Sea.’ Tom was clutching the menu with trembling hands. In front of him, three empty plates that once held glistening pink premium fatty tuna were already stacked up.

  It was real tuna. Not synthetic protein, but precious meat grown in clean-water cultivation tanks, costing over 10,000 credits per gram.

  “You said you were buying.” Ren casually popped a piece of sushi topped with wasabi into his mouth. The fat melted on his tongue, spreading a rich, savory flavor.

  Expensive things really do taste better. This was the taste of capitalism.

  “I know I said I was buying, but... pace yourself! At this rate, my entire bonus is going to vanish!” “You're a hero. The cane of the citizens, Officer Tom. I know exactly how much they paid you for those interviews.” “Shh! Lower your voice! What if someone hears you!”

  Tom startled and looked around frantically. He was wearing sunglasses and a mask inside the restaurant. To anyone else, he looked like a guy suffering from a severe celebrity disease, but he was fully immersed in his ‘lonely hero plagued by fame’ persona.

  “Oh my. Lord Hero. Don't worry. This is a private room.” Ren picked up a piece of pickled garlic with his chopsticks and chuckled.

  The two were batchmates and patrol cops of the same rank. Because he constantly caused trouble, Tom had a high chance of his promotion being delayed, but it wasn't like Ren had high promotion scores either. Ren's record still showed him ditching work three years ago, and since then, he only ever completed his missions just enough to avoid getting in trouble.

  But since Tom's score was even lower than Ren's, he was understandably desperate.

  “Haa... fine. Eat up. It's true I got those promotion points thanks to you.”

  Tom emptied his sake cup in resignation.

  Just then.

  Slide. The sliding door opened, and a stranger stepped in instead of a server. A sharp-eyed man in a neat suit. Pinned to his chest was the badge of the ‘Hunter Association.’ An organization that managed and scouted Espers and Martial Artists.

  “Excuse me. May I join you for a moment?” The man's gaze was fixed precisely on Tom.

  Flustered, Tom wiped the soy sauce from his mouth.

  “U-Um, who are you...?” “I am Jason, a Scouting Team Leader for the Hunter Association. You are Officer Tom, correct? I was deeply impressed by the bombing incident at Central Station.”

  Jason placed a business card on the table. Tom's eyes widened. The Hunter Association? Wasn't that a place only elite Awakened individuals went to?

  “D-Do you have some business with me...?” “I'll get straight to the point. The ‘Steel Wolf’ guild, affiliated with our Association, wants you.”

  Tom almost did a spit-take with his water. Steel Wolf was an A-rank mercenary group. A place where starting salaries began at 500 million credits minimum.

  “Huh? M-Me? Why?” “You are too modest. The sheer nerve to throw yourself at a terrorist barehanded right before a bomb went off. And the combat sense to accurately read the exact timing when the explosive's mana circuit shorted out. Our analysis team determined you to be a potential ‘Sense Enhancer’ Awakened. Since you have a rare ability, we want to scout you preemptively.”

  Jason's eyes gleamed.

  “We will offer you ten times your patrolman salary. Signing bonus is separate. What do you say?”

  Tom's jaw dropped. Ten times his salary. His life would be completely turned around. He could drive a sports car instead of a beat-up patrol cruiser, and move out of his moldy apartment into a lower-level mansion in Sky City.

  Tom's eyes wavered wildly. All he did was snap out of it and throw himself forward because Ren called his name, but this misunderstanding had birthed a miraculous scouting offer.

  Naturally, he instinctively looked at Ren. Ren was still chewing on fatty tuna with an expressionless face.

  ‘Eat. Just keep eating.’ That was what Ren's eyes were saying.

  “U-Um... that is...” Tom mumbled.

  It was an incredibly sweet offer, too good to refuse. But if he accepted, it was obvious he would die a dog's death on his first mission. He wasn't some sensory Awakened; he was just a lucky coward.

  “Tom.” Ren put down his chopsticks and called out quietly.

  Tom looked at Ren as if he had just met his savior.

  “Go if you want to go. But you know there's an entrance exam to join them, right?” “……An exam?” “Yeah. A live combat spar. You have to survive 1-on-1 against an A-rank magical beast for 5 minutes.”

  Tom's face turned pale at Ren's words. An A-rank magical beast? A mere graze would mean death.

  “Ah... ha. Haha! I don't think my skills are quite at that level yet...” “Plus, there's probably a penalty clause, right? If you get kicked out for underperforming, you have to spit out three times your signing bonus.” Ren tossed the remark out while looking at Jason.

  Jason's eyebrow twitched. He looked like someone who had just been stabbed in the core.

  “……Your colleague seems to be very well-versed in our internal affairs.” “I have a bit of an interest.” “The information is not incorrect, but we do not make such excessive demands of potential Awakened.”

  Ren picked up another piece of sushi.

  “You'd probably just keep shoving him into combat situations to force an Awakening, wouldn't you?”

  At Ren's words, Tom gulped. Money was great, but his life was more important. And three times the penalty fee meant instant bankruptcy. Even if it wasn't immediate, he couldn't force a life-threatening gamble when he had zero confidence in his abilities. He still had that much of a grasp on reality left.

  “U-Um... thank you for the offer, but I'd like to remain by the citizens' side for now. Being a police officer is my calling.” Tom declined, biting the bullet.

  Jason clicked his tongue in regret.

  “Understood. If you ever change your mind, please contact me anytime.”

  Jason stood up. Before leaving, he scanned Ren briefly. Just an ordinary cop eating tuna. Unlike Tom, who emitted a faint mana signature, this man had absolutely no presence or mana reaction whatsoever. Guess he's just a guy with quick wits.

  Losing interest, Jason left the room. As soon as the door closed, Tom slammed his head onto the table.

  “Aaargh! My 500 million! My sports car! Ren, aren't you being too harsh? You could have just pretended not to know!” “With your skills, even a D-rank magical beast is too much.” “Still...! You never know! If I get trained there, maybe I really would Awaken!” “I see it in your face. You'd get a chronic injury during training, get kicked out without even getting worker's comp. Wake up.” Ren coldly delivered the facts.

  Tom kept whining, but picked up his chopsticks again anyway. Sorrow is sorrow, but the tuna is innocent.

  “Hey. Order another plate. I feel depressed.” Ren rang the call bell without a word.

  Right then, the device in Ren's pocket vibrated sharply. It wasn't a message. It was an Alert.

  [Emergency Situation. All personnel of the 7th Department assemble.] [Unidentified Flying Object crashed on the outskirts of Arc City. Requesting scene control.]

  “…….” Ren frowned. “What? What is it?” “It's an emergency.” Ren grabbed his coat and stood up. “What? Dammit.” Tom looked ready to cry, his mouth stuffed full of sushi.