The smell of the medicine spread through the air.
"State your name for the record."
"Julien," he answered, his voice hoarse, a lingering side effect of screaming for his life like an idiot.
The Investigation Officer, a man with bags under his eyes deep enough to store weapons in, didn't even look up from his tablet. He tapped the screen with a repetitive, annoying thump-thump-thump.
"Rank?"
"Unregistered, sir," Julien said, pulling the thermal blanket tighter around his shoulders. "But... I think F. Maybe E on a good day."
The Officer made a disgusted face. It was a dismissive, wet sound.
"There is no E rank, kid. But looking at your bio-readings..." He finally looked up, scanning Julien's thin frame and the sling holding the dead weight of his right arm. "F-minus seems appropriate."
"The gas line..." Julien started, sticking to the script the hunters had unintentionally provided.
"Save it. The report is already filed on that matter," the officer interrupted, waving a hand. "Class C Beast. Used up all its mana on the attack, then suddenly discharged due to the gas main getting ignited."
He sealed the screen. "You survived because the universe decided to play a joke on your luck. We're marking this as a 'Non-Combat Event.' So you will not be receiving anything for the kill, no experience points from the Guild, and no loot rights from the beast."
"I never asked for any of it," Julien muttered. "I just want to go."
"One last thing." The officer pointed his stylus at the bandage on Julien's right arm. "The healer said your arm isn't responding to basic bone refinement magic. What happened?"
Julien looked down at his arm.
It looked normal on the outside, maybe a little pale in colour as if it was drained of blood, but inside, it felt like an empty tube. The 'Collateral' he had paid to fire that gun wasn't just energy; it was the function of the hand.
"I fell on it," he lied. "Most probably the circulation got cut off."
The Officer stared at him for a long second. For a moment, Julien thought the [Non-Disclosure Agreement] might trigger again, but the man just shrugged.
"Nerve damage is common. Take this." He printed a slip of paper. "Your apartment building is condemned. This voucher gets you a cot in the District 9 Shelter for three nights and two rations bars from the association. After that, you're on your own. Next!"
District 9 was less of a district and more of a refugee camp with delusions of being a haven.
It was a converted stadium three blocks from the city centre. Thousands of people, mostly the unawakened or weak F-ranks like him, were crammed into rows of cots on the playing field.
He went to the district. It was cramped, filled with the smell of shit and wasted food.
Disgusting.
Julien found his assigned cot: Section D, Row 45. He sat down, the cheap elastic making weird sounds under his weight.
He was alive. But now he was homeless and had a debt to pay for a shop from the outside world.
"Chris..."
He pulled out his phone. Its screen was cracked, but it was still working.
[12 Missed Calls from: Chris]
He sent a quick text: I'm alive. At the stadium shelter. My apartment was destroyed in the meantime. Don't worry. I'm sorry.
He turned the phone off. He couldn't deal with his friend's optimism right now. He needed to understand what the hell had happened to him.
Julien looked around. To his left, an old man was snoring loudly. To his right, a couple was whispering about insurance claims. No one was looking at him.
"System," he whispered. "Status."
The golden screen flickered into existence, hovering inches from his face. It was sharp, high-definition, and completely invisible to everyone else.
[Name: Julien]
[Class: Dimensional Merchant (Rank: SSS)]
[Level: 2]
[Current Condition: Partial Atrophy (Right Arm)] Warning: Collateral damage will heal naturally over 72 hours, or can be instantly restored for 50 Credits.
Thank god it's not permanent.
Julien ignored the health warning and navigated to the tab that had saved his life.
[Skill: The Infinite Warehouse] [Rank: SSS] [Type: Conceptual / Transactional]
[Description:] You have been granted administrative access to the Multiversal Supply Chain. You do not own the items in the warehouse; you are merely the Distributor.
[Rules & Restrictions:]
The Supply: The Warehouse contains an infinite stock of every non-unique item that exists, has existed, or will exist across the dimensions.
The Usage Ban: The User is a Merchant, not a Warrior. You cannot equip weapons or armour from the Warehouse for personal stat boosts or selfish reasons.
Exception: You may use items for "Self-Defence" by paying a Collateral Cost (Vitality, Stats, or Body Functionality).
The Transaction: You may sell items to other beings or entities.
You have the right to set the price.
The System takes a 50% cut of the base value.
The remaining profit is yours to keep as Credits or converted into Stat Points.
The Commission: For every successful sale, you may copy one attribute or minor skill from the customer.
He read the text three times.
"I can't use them," he whispered, the realisation settling like a stone in his gut. "If I want to use a sword, I have to pay with my life force. If I want to wear armour, it'll probably paralyse me."
Can I also use credits to buy weapons?
The System quickly replied.
[Only if you possess the necessary stats]
That explained the arm. The 'Godtail Revolver' was a C-grade weapon. Firing it once cost him the use of his arm for three days. If he had tried to swing that S-grade Star-breaking Greatsword?
He would have exploded into a mist of blood before he even lifted it.
He tapped the [Financials] tab.
[Debt Alert]
Principal: 500 Credits.
Accrued Interest (4 Hours): 20.8 Credits.
Total Due: 520.8 Credits.
Time Remaining: 19 Hours, 56 Minutes.
What the fuck is this?
The number was ticking up.
It wasn't the same as before. This little shit was adding fractions of a credit every minute.
"How do I get credits?" he hissed at the screen. "I don't have gold or dragon hearts!"
[System Hint: Credits are the universal currency. They can be obtained by exchanging local currency (Gold/Dollars), Monster Cores, or by selling Warehouse Inventory to customers.]
Julien tapped on the [Inventory List] to see what he could actually sell.
[Tier 1 Inventory (Unlocked)]
Basic Health Potion (Low Grade) – Wholesale Cost: 10 Credits.
Iron Sword (Durable) – Wholesale Cost: 15 Credits.
Mana Water (500ml) – Wholesale Cost: 5 Credits.
Anti-Toxin Pill – Wholesale Cost: 8 Credits.
A plan began to form in his mind. He needed to make use of these things for now.
A Low-Grade Health Potion cost him 10 Credits to pull out of the warehouse. In the real world, hunters were desperate for healing. The supply chains were already bad as Gate ranks kept increasing. Pharmacies were constantly under attack by thugs.
If he pulled out a potion for 10 Credits... and sold it for 20... he would make 10 Credits profit.
Basics for a salesman like him.
He needed 520 Credits by tomorrow.
That meant he needed to sell 52 potions.
Julien looked at his lifeless right arm, then at the ticking debt counter.
"I'm not a hunter," he murmured, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "I'm a salesperson."
He closed the window and lay back on the uncomfortable cot.
To survive, he didn't need to get stronger. He didn't even need to raid the gates.
He needed to find customers fast. And he needed to rip them off.