Versekt District
A place abandoned by the entire parliantary system. It was once enveloped by the intrusion of a foreign world.
Though the invasion ultimately failed, remnants of unknown species were left behind, blending in with humans. Not long after, the underground took over, giving it a na of its own—[The Pandemonium].
The na suited the chaotic nature of the place.
Paying the nervous driver his fare, Zick stepped out of the car and rged into the sparse street.
Despite its reputation, the district wasn’t completely lawless. Vehicles moved steadily along the roads, and order, of a sort, existed.
Laws did exist here, but they were created by [The Pandemonium], shaping a system that benefited their growth.
’[End’s Wing] was their creation as well. In this place, it’s impossible to live without an account in it.’
Zick glanced at the street stalls as he walked, his pace unwavering. Checking his mobile, he confird that 1.4 million Wrantz had already been transferred to his bank account.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Zick arrived at a run-down building.
{Kerth Doll Shop}
A nostalgic na.
Suppressing his emotions, Zick stepped inside. Dust filled the air, tickling his nose the mont he moved forward.
Behind the reception desk sat a middle-aged man. A few strands of his brown hair had already turned gray. He was absorbed in a book but looked up as soon as Zick entered.
"...What do you want?"
The old man’s voice carried suspicion as he eyed Zick’s unfamiliar face.
Zick simply smiled. "I saw your advertisent on [End’s Wing], so I ca to take a look, Mister Dain?"
At the ntion of his pseudonym, Dain’s tense expression relaxed slightly.
For the past few weeks, no one had co despite his attempts to monetize his services on [End’s Wing]. He had already half given up, wondering what to do next.
Zick, however, had co with a clear goal—to establish a foothold in this underworld-run district. And in his eyes, Dain was the perfect choice, despite his questionable character.
’Well... no one here is normal anyway.’
After a mont of contemplation, Dain led Zick into the inner hall of his workshop. The room was lined with dozens of human-like figures, standing still like statues.
"What kind of doll are you looking for?" Dain asked coldly. He needed money more than anything at this point.
For that reason, he was even willing to sell the "masterpieces" he had painstakingly created.
Dain had long dread of crafting the perfect doll—an artificial life form flawless in every way. He had sacrificed much in pursuit of that goal...
"I read that your dolls can use special skills similar to innate talents. Is that true?"
Dain nodded without hesitation. "That’s right."
Zick observed each doll carefully, his gaze sweeping over them until he suddenly stopped in front of one that reached his chin.
Slowly a smile spread across his face.
Two emotionless red eyes stared back at him.
The doll had whitish-blue hair, tied into a high ponytail, and the sa blank red eyes that seed to pierce into one’s soul. She appeared around seventeen years old and wore a simple green and black dress.
As the doll continued staring, Zick extended his hand, caressing her cheek. Her skin felt indistinguishable from that of a real human.
’Scout-33... I didn’t expect to see a familiar face so soon.’
Scout-33 gazed blankly at Zick’s hand, registering the unfamiliar touch.
Dain’s eyes flashed with an unreadable light, though he quickly concealed it. This doll was his first creation and, at present, his greatest masterpiece.
"Mister Dain, what about this doll?" Zick asked knowingly.
"...Her na is Scout-33. As her designation implies, she possesses an unparalleled scouting ability, capable of surveying vast distances. Right now, her range is only a kiloter, but she can continue to grow. You can buy her for just 3,000 Wing Points."
Dain began listing the benefits of acquiring Scout-33, but Zick interrupted with a smirk.
"I’m curious, though. Isn’t she your daughter?"
Instantly, the room fell silent.
"...So what? Are you buying or not?" Dain’s bloodshot eyes narrowed in irritation.
That’s right. Dain’s first successful experint had been conducted on his own daughter. Yet, even then, he hadn’t been satisfied.
He wanted to create a new life—a perfect life. But what he ended up with were nothing more than empty shells, dolls that could only mimic life.
A living human body was required for the process, and in Dain’s eyes, that was an imperfect thod.
In the end, wasn’t he just modifying an already existing life? How could that ever be considered his own creation?
Noticing the crazed glint in Dain’s eyes, Zick decided to stop wasting ti.
"Ha, I won’t beat around the bush, Mister Dain. What do you think about signing a contract with ?"
Zick didn’t care about Dain’s past or his cruel experints.
What mattered was his usefulness.
Dain stiffened. "What kind of deal?"
"I’ll provide 100,000 Wing Points every month. In return, you’ll work for . Of course, it won’t be a re verbal agreent—we can sign a high-level contract."
100,000 Wing Points equated to roughly a million Wrantz. If his plans proceeded smoothly, Zick could easily afford it every month.
For the first ti, a spark of life flickered in Dain’s otherwise dead eyes. Though he understood that this deal would strip away his freedom, he didn’t care.
He would do anything for his dream...
Even if it ant turning his own daughter into the empty shell she was today.
"...I have a contract here. We’ll use that." Dain’s voice carried a cautious edge.
"Sure." Zick smiled.
He had plenty of experience with contracts—so much, in fact, that he could probably run a slave market with the number of people he had deceived in the past.
As he modified the docunt, which resembled aged parchnt, Zick imdiately recognized it as a high-level contract.
’Well, whatever...’
He had no intention of tricking his first subordinate. He would if he could...
’Dain—real na, Ruth Bexter, would beco one of the most notorious executives of [The Pandemonium] in the future. Recruiting him now isn’t a loss. Though, at this point, he hasn’t even begun modifying himself yet...’
Body modifications was possible for both human and demi-human in the underworld. Zick wasn’t opposed to enhancing his own body, as long as it didn’t diminish his natural talent.
Of course, such modifications were illegal in parliantary-controlled areas.
"Right. As a celebration of our new agreent, can I take Scout-33 with ?" Zick asked shalessly.
"Take whichever you want." Dain didn’t even look up, absorbed in reviewing the slave contract. In the end, he still signed it with a blank face.
Zick’s mood lifted.
In the previous tiline, he had acquired Scout-33 as well. She had saved his life countless tis—so many that he had given her the title "Life-Saver."
As he patted her head, a thought crossed his mind.
’Don’t throw away your life for again in this life.’
Zick always repaid what he received. He wouldn’t let her et the sa fate as before his regression.
He planned to place Scout-33 in his first underworld team. Though she lacked offensive power, others could make up for that.
Feeling Scout-33’s emotionless stare, the one he had been familiar with for years. It only made him more nostalgic.
’Her mind may be comparable to a child’s right now. But she will grow—quickly.’
Transferring the money to Dain, Zick left with Scout-33 without hesitation.
There was still another group to recruit.
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