The Death of Ein

London, south bank of the River Thames.

A young man of about twenty was leaning against the glass exterior of the Shard Building. His dark blue hair was tied into a ponytail, and his eyes were a similar shade. A white shirt and trousers, both neatly cut, accentuated his slender figure, while the beige undershirt he wore over them reflected the weather in the United Kingdom in October.

—Welt Joyce.

At that moment, this First Herrscher's proper features held a trace of helplessness. He turned and glanced at the scene reflected on the building's surface, then helplessly let out a sigh.

Shopping bags.

All kinds of shopping bags.

The goods, each costing at least two digits, were all being carried by this poor young man, practically obscuring his clothes completely.

Joyce was deeply suspicious.

If he had not occasionally learned a few strange techniques from that transcendent immortal from Shenzhou during these past three years, gaining a rudimentary understanding of how to use qi and thereby drawing on strength beyond his physical constitution to carry some of the shopping bags, would he have been miserably crushed beneath the bags, whose total weight exceeded his own?

But on closer thought, Ein and Tesla actually both had a sense of restraint.

Well, the latter's "sense of restraint" often went off the rails.

So if he had not learned how to use Honkai Energy, he would probably have been granted mercy and had part of the burden lightened.

It was like casually noticing a container for water on a table. The other person's personality was such that however large the container was, she would fill it with that much water.

From that perspective, even if he had not learned the qi arts, his circumstances probably would not have been much different from now.