The Undeveloped Zone.
A term denoting the vast ruins spanning across the late 50s Districts and the so-called ‘extra-Districts’, which don’t even have a definite number.
Originally conceived with a grand vision to vastly expand residential areas for the growing population of the metropolis Vulcan, in line with its rapid expansion, it instead became a symbol of neglect.
After failing to control the first developed Districts 40s due to corruption and disputes over benefits, the Districts 50s were treated like abandoned children in the city’s policy.
Concrete and iron bars now lie buried under layers of dust. Construction equipment stands idle, devoid of any promise or plan for future work.
This place exudes a sense of emptiness, not from lack of construction, but from a feeling of shattered dreams.
Only organizations driven by madness or notorious for their brutality would dare to operate in this area, as they are either deranged or feared to an extent that keeps them out of the city’s boundaries.
It has become a hellish realm where vagrants and the deranged, cast out from the city and stripped of their will to survive, become lost and wander aimlessly.
And it is precisely this place that Lennok has chosen for his current assignment.
“Number 484. Remember that. When you see it on the signboard, I will let you in four by four. Wait until then.”
The receptionist casually handed Lennok a number, barely sparing him a glance.
It was the fifth post at the District Management Headquarters of the Environmental Agency, located in District 50.
This was the place responsible for registering and organizing the identities of numerous mercenaries who were set to venture into the Undeveloped Zone, following the city government’s call for extermination.
Rather than recklessly dispatching them individually to confront the emerging contaminants, a surprising level of caution was exercised, as mercenaries were grouped together in teams of four.
For Lennok, who had originally planned to undertake the mission alone, this news was less than ideal.
Nevertheless, he decided to patiently wait his turn, obediently following the instructions of the receptionist.
As he settled into a nearby chair and glanced around, he couldn’t help but notice the presence of other mercenaries who had gathered for the extermination operation.
Their appearances varied, but a common thread of weariness was etched across their faces, clearly indicating their involvement in this line of work.
‘It’s my first time seeing so many mercenaries.’
Having previously worked with the Krimgal Mercenary Office, Lennok was aware that its operations were not on a grand scale.
In ordinary circumstances, encounters with other mercenaries were relatively rare unless there was a need for collaboration.
However, as Lennok observed the sheer number of mercenaries gathered at this outpost, easily exceeding thirty individuals, he discreetly studied them while concealing his own expression.
The variety of equipment they possessed was quite impressive, befitting their mercenary profession.
Most of them appeared to have undergone physical training and were comfortable wielding melee weapons. Even those who didn’t primarily rely on melee combat still carried at least one firearm.
In this real world, unlike a game, it was only natural for mercenaries to arm themselves without fear of unnecessary penalties for carrying multiple weapons.
Lennok couldn’t help but contemplate how much easier it would be to store and manage his belongings if he possessed the ability to enchant objects with magic. Lost in his thoughts, he awaited his turn.
Taking a glance around, he noticed that there were more teams than individual mercenaries, causing a slight delay before it was finally his turn.
Approaching the signboard, Lennok saw three mercenaries observing their surroundings.
The man in the front, who locked eyes with Lennok, stepped forward and extended his hand for a handshake.
“Hello. You’re number 484, right? My name is Miguel.”
Miguel’s dark complexion made it challenging to read his expression. As he extended his calloused hand for a handshake, Lennok could feel the strength in his firm grip.
The combination of weapons Miguel wielded—a short spear and a submachine gun—seemed unconventional, but in this field of mercenaries, it wasn’t an unusual sight.
Despite Miguel’s friendly smile, Lennok couldn’t ignore the brief moment when his gaze carefully scanned him from head to toe.
Respectfully, Lennok accepted the handshake and exchanged greetings with Miguel’s companions who had been standing behind him.
There were two men, including Miguel, and one woman. The man, Erikson appeared to be a frontline fighter, while the woman, Claria supported the team with her rifle, providing firepower from a distance.
Lennok lightly tapped into his mana, scanning their appearances. It became apparent that they possessed only basic mana abilities, primarily focused on enhancing their physical attributes, with no notable exceptional powers.
Concluding his brief assessment of the trio, Lennok began walking out of the outpost.
The journey from here to the Undeveloped Zone wasn’t too far.
While they wouldn’t encounter contaminated creatures immediately upon leaving the city, Lennok appreciated the fact that they wouldn’t have to wander too long before reaching their destination.
The three of them, whether acquainted before or not, skillfully maintained the conversation without any sense of awkwardness, even with Lennok in their midst.
Recognizing the difficulty of remaining silent throughout their collaboration, Lennok decided to view this experience as an opportunity for personal growth.
“It must be tough for people who work outside Vulcan. The surge of contaminats is said to be quite recent, but they always have to go to and from the city under such risk.”
“That’s why they say that when you check out the factories or buildings outside the city, you often find stuff in a pretty bad state? The city government, which is kinda slack, can’t handle the crazy stuff that people get up to out there. Oh, could this be considered a prejudice?”
Upon hearing those words, memories of the factory where he had awoken flooded Lennok’s mind.
It was a grim place, capturing individuals and subjecting them to labor exploitation. The factory manufactured corpse grinders for warlocks, selling them to the guild—a truly unhealthy and sinister working environment.
As the conversation among the group continued, Lennok participated with occasional remarks and responses whenever they addressed him.
The exchange flowed effortlessly, and before they realized it, they began sharing details about their respective fighting styles and abilities.
“The reward for exterminating one contaminat is one million cells. It’s not easy, but jobs like this don’t come around every day. For mercs like us, these undeveloped districts aren’t always bad news.”
“Especially when we knock down those guys, my shotgun is a great help.”
Erikson pointed to the shotgun on his back with a friendly smile.
“But Mr. Van seems to have only one revolver. Do you have any other equipment you use?”
Claria’s question seemed to be casually tossed into their conversation, almost as if they were just catching up on recent events.
Yet, in that brief instant, Lennok couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle as he observed the exchanged glances between the three of them.
They made an effort to hide it, but it was glaringly obvious.
They attempted to downplay its significance by weaving it into the chatter, but their prime curiosity about Lennok had always been a foregone conclusion.
Since there was no point in concealing it anymore, Lennok responded with an air of calm.
“I use Lightning-based magic.”
“….Lightning-based, you mean the pure elemental kind?”
“That would be correct.”
It was only after Lennok provided his response that he sensed a peculiar shift in the atmosphere, causing him to furrow his brow in confusion.
In an instant, the jovial demeanor of the mercenaries had dissipated.
Miguel wore a troubled expression, Erikson gazed at Lennok with pity, and Claria’s face remained devoid of any emotion.
All three of them regarded Lennok as if he had transformed into an entirely different individual.
“We misunderstood,” Miguel sighed and said.
“In what way?”
As Lennok spoke in response, he couldn’t help but notice the odd shift in their behavior. Consequently, his words naturally became shorter, mirroring the unusual atmosphere that surrounded them.
“We thought Mr. Van was a wizard who naturally mastered popular magic like the shock series. Usually, solo wizards work to develop abilities that can be coordinated with other team members at any time.”
“…….”
Since Lennok had started focusing on Lightning-based magic, it was the first time he encountered such an excuse.
He was aware that pure elemental magic could have lower efficiency in its early stages of learning, making it a less favored choice. However, it felt peculiar to be so blatantly ostracized for not pursuing the specific type of magic they desired.
Could it be that they had planned to abandon Lennok from the beginning and proceed separately? If that was their scheme, it would make sense.
Lost in his thoughts, Lennok found himself caught off guard as Miguel’s words carried on.
“We may have to rethink carrying out the contaminat request together. We also wanted to work with someone who can provide sufficient firepower support…”
The tone implied as if Lennok hadn’t been making an effort at all.
Their evasive behavior, hinting at their reluctance to work together, elicited a natural sigh from him.
While he understood the need to assess and evaluate things before collaborating, he hadn’t anticipated such an abrupt change in their attitude.
Trouble seemed to be brewing quickly.
If he insisted on joining them now, it would be akin to stepping onto a sinking ship.
He didn’t fancy sticking around for that.
“Just one question.”
“Yes?”
“When hunting contaminats and receiving compensation, do all four of us necessarily need to be together?”
“…… Not necessarily. Dealing with contaminats is not an easy task, and there can be casualties, so they can’t withhold compensation just because the number of people doesn’t match.”
“Then that’s fine.”
Lennok nodded and turned around.
“Mr. Wizard?”
“If our intentions don’t align, there’s no point in being together, just to hurt feelings. We’ve already reached the undeveloped zone, so I think it would be fine to act separately from here.”
Miguel stealthily took a glance at him and asked.
“…… Are you really sure you’re okay with this?”
As Miguel spoke, his voice carried a distinct undertone of relief.
Erikson and Claria, positioned behind him, also appeared noticeably more at ease.
While Lennok may have been relatively inexperienced as a wizard, he wouldn’t be entirely useless in fulfilling the hunting request. Their reluctance to work together stemmed from their desire to keep the entirety of the compensation earned from hunting contaminants to themselves.
By reducing the number of participants by even one, the share of the rewards would increase for each remaining individual.
Maintaining his composure, Lennok nodded in agreement, adopting a cool demeanor.
“It would have been smoother if you had said this when we first formed the team. You’ve unnecessarily complicated things.”
“No, that’s not true. We couldn’t explicitly tell you that.”
Miguel’s tone was still polite, but he seemed to have no intention of hiding his true feelings anymore.
“Then let’s part ways here. In order to achieve satisfactory results, it would be best to keep a reasonable distance from each other.”
“We’d really appreciate that… Uh, no. I mean, you, Mr. Wizard, must have your own considerations too.”
A faint crack marred Miguel’s once kindly smile, but he swiftly corrected his mistake.
Lennok nodded in response and promptly turned his back.
Not all corporations or gangs were inherently malevolent, and not all mercenaries or freelancers were virtuous.
They simply sought what benefitted them and discarded what posed harm.
In that sense, they were just like ordinary people.
While Lennok couldn’t help feeling annoyed by their treatment, he knew better than to engage in a pointless confrontation with the mercenaries at that moment.
Inflicting a brief defeat upon them might provide temporary satisfaction, but ultimately, if they were to work together, it would be Lennok who would suffer the loss in rewards.
Fully aware of this fact, Lennok obediently acquiesced to the mercenaries’ wishes and retreated.
What mattered most was not squandering potential earnings by engaging in a prideful battle with them.
He could save face later when it truly counted, in front of the settlement.
Channeling his mana, Lennok extended it outward in all directions without hesitation. Clearing his mind, he focused intently.
Miguel watched Lennok’s departure with a bewildered expression on his face.
“Hey, why are you staring like that?”
Upon hearing Claria’s words, Miguel shifted his gaze, redirecting his attention away from Lennok.
In an instant, the formal honorifics Claria had previously employed vanished as Lennok distanced himself from the group.
Smiling mischievously, Claria casually played with the magazine of her rifle and spoke.
“We’ve just lost a nuisance. It’s irritating to have a parasite stuck to you.”
“That’s right. It’s irritating enough to think about joining a hunting team, let alone taking care of such a weak guy.”
Erikson chimed in on Claria’s words.
“He’ll probably wander around by himself, taste bitterness a few times, and then crawl back into the city.”
Miguel and his group’s decision to abandon Lennok without trust was not unfounded.
Within the mercenary community, word had spread that hunting contaminants was a lucrative opportunity for earning money. As a result, several teams were formed specifically for this purpose.
It had been agreed upon in advance that approximately 10 members would come together to expedite the hunting process and minimize risks involved.
