The Ghost Street

There were very few Contractors on Ghost Street. Most had probably gone off to enjoy themselves around Las Vegas, or were out adventuring in a Plot Character's world. In a secluded spot beneath a dim streetlamp, a Contractor sat on the ground with a cloth spread out in front of him, displaying a few assorted items.

Kirk was a little curious. Luckily, there were no city inspectors in this space, or this poor guy would surely have been chased all over the place.

He squatted down to look at the wares. None of the items were anything special, yet they were priced absurdly high. A light blue rapier with an Attack Power of 15 was actually going for 7,000 Survival Points. Kirk shook his head and turned to leave.

"Little brother, what are you looking for?" the seller asked in a hoarse voice.

"Skills." Kirk had already heard that skill books could drop. He wasn't short on equipment, but he wanted to strengthen his skills further. In the world of The Walking Dead, [Throat Cut] had left a deep impression on him during combat. However, Advanced Skills like that generally had to be learned through personal insight or taught by Plot Characters.

"You're looking for a skill? I happen to have one here, but it's very expensive. How many Survival Points do you have?"

"Why do you ask?" Kirk grew wary.

"Don't bother unless you have 20,000 Survival Points," the seller said firmly. "We can have the space verify it. If the space says you have them, that's good enough."

Kirk thought it over, then decided to see what kind of treasure the seller had that could be worth 20,000 Survival Points. Prices in Las Vegas were high, but even an ordinary [Basic Small Arms Mastery] only sold for 2,000 Survival Points and 2 Skill Potential Points.

After the space confirmed it, the seller took out a crumpled, bloodstained Skill Scroll. Kirk picked it up, and his heart began to pound.

[Basic Weapon Dual Wield Mastery] level 3: Specialized Advanced Skill. Passive skill. Allows the Contractor to wield a weapon in each hand, reducing the dual-wielding penalty of the weapons and improving the effects of dual wielding.

Level 1 effect: Allows the Contractor to wield a weapon in each hand. Attack Speed is reduced by 50%.

Level 2 effect: Attack Speed is reduced by 40%.

Level 3 effect: Attack Speed is reduced by 30%. Allows weapons to be used for blocking (requires mastery of the relevant skill).

At present, Kirk's main-hand weapon slot held [Mori's Hand-Cutting Blade], while his off-hand weapon slot held [Michonne's Sorrow]. He could equip them both, but couldn't use them at the same time in combat. If he insisted on using both, he could only stab once with [Mori's Hand-Cutting Blade], then slash once with [Michonne's Sorrow]. The time it took to switch weapons would be enough for someone to kill him three times over.

If he mastered this powerful skill, he wouldn't have to endure the massive penalty for dual wielding. Kirk pictured himself with the light green [Mori's Hand-Cutting Blade] in his left hand and the dark blue [Michonne's Sorrow] in his right, sweeping into a crowd of enemies like a Death Whirlwind, slaughtering them as blood sprayed and heads rolled.

After drooling over the thought for a while, he sneered. "You want 20,000 for this thing? I might consider 2,000."

The seller gave a cold chuckle, put the scroll away, and stopped paying Kirk any attention.

His first attempt at bargaining had failed, but Kirk wasn't discouraged. He was a homebody, but he'd watched his mother use her shopping tricks. He gave a cold chuckle of his own, then sauntered off to browse elsewhere.

You had to be patient when shopping. If the other person thought you really needed something, how could they not name an outrageous price? Kirk would rather go without the skill than let someone take him for a fool. Besides, 20,000 Survival Points was everything he had. The price was too steep. He might as well wait until next time. As long as he stayed alive, he'd have another chance to get it.

"You're a newbie, aren't you?" the seller finally called out with a sneer.

"Yeah, I'm a newbie. I just entered the space." Kirk wasn't in a hurry. He simply played it coy, figuring that would make people less suspicious.

"Only a newbie would talk like an amateur about this thing. A specialized Advanced Skill, passive, and already at level 3—and you dare offer 2,000? You must've only just started hanging around here."

"If you can sell it for a high price, go find someone else. I'm not forcing you to sell it to me." Kirk patiently continued to bargain.

"Do you know how rarely this thing drops in the space? Last time, a level 2 [Weapon Dual-Wielding] sold for 20,000 Survival Points and 5 Base Attribute Points at auction!"

"Bullshit!" Kirk didn't believe him at all. That was, until the seller pulled out a laptop and played a video of the auction. Kirk was left speechless, but quickly found another angle. "If that's true, why not take it to auction? This is Ghost Street. You'll never get that kind of price here."

The seller sighed heavily. "You think I want to waste my breath on you? The auction was just yesterday, and the next one isn't for seven days. Our team just got wiped out, and we're entering a Plot Character's world tomorrow... Damn it, are you buying it or not?"

Kirk was somewhat skeptical. Seeing that he'd let something slip, the seller decided to tell him the whole story. In the Previous World, their team of twelve Contractors had entered Merlin Legend. As an epic tale from medieval England, combined with the team's large size, Merlin Legend had a difficulty rating of B+. Unable to complete the Main Mission, they'd decided to ambush one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, recoup their losses, and then retreat. They'd succeeded, killing an armed knight at the cost of two lives, and the scroll had dropped as the main item. But their hunt had alerted Lancelot, the leader of the Knights of the Round Table. Only three of those unlucky bastards had made it back. Now they needed to sell their loot and recoup their losses.

Kirk was still skeptical. Either way, he wasn't buying it at that price. After another round of fierce haggling, the seller finally sighed. He'd been waiting there for five whole days. At first, he'd been full of confidence, planning to recoup the price of the team wipe by selling it for 30,000 Survival Points and 10 Skill Potential Points. He'd even missed the auction. But with the next Plot Character's world looming, and no one showing any interest in the scroll, he'd finally realized how big the gap was between his hopes and reality.

If he could survive the next world and make it to the auction, he was confident he could get a high price.

But who the hell knew what misfortune awaited him in the next brutal Plot Character's world? Without Survival Points, he couldn't buy supplies. Would he even live long enough to make it to the auction?

Even if he had to sell it cheap, he had no choice but to accept it. Staying alive mattered more than anything.

After a round of bargaining, Kirk traded 13,000 Survival Points and two Whiteboard Keys for [Basic Weapon Dual Wield Mastery].

He used the scroll right away. Countless images of fierce warriors appeared in his mind, weapons in both hands as they slashed and spun, whipping up a Death Whirlwind among their enemies.

[Basic Weapon Dual Wield Mastery]: Level 3 effect: Attack Speed is reduced by 30%. Allows weapons to be used for blocking (requires mastery of the relevant skill to activate).

Kirk had already increased his Attack Speed by 30%, so the increase canceled out the skill's penalty. The two weapons of carnage from The Walking Dead were now free of any penalty, allowing him to unleash the full explosive power of dual wielding.

Now Kirk had only 7,000 Survival Points left. He went into the casino, took out the few Whiteboard Keys he had left, and put them up as stakes in a gambling match against the Contractors, letting the highest bidder take them. It turned out there really were hopeless gamblers in the world, the kind who were addicted to gambling. They didn't even pass up Whiteboard Keys, despite their appallingly low drop rates. Kirk actually sold them for 2,000 points.

There, Kirk spotted the long-absent Little Fatty. The guy was sitting with an arm around each of two women in the casino: a blonde Beauty with a voluptuous bust and a tall, elegant woman from the East. He shamelessly flirted with them, while they giggled and caught the gambling chips Little Fatty tossed them between their deep, prominent cleavage. Then Kirk saw him holding a hand of cards. With a single throw, he burst out laughing and swept the chips from the table into his arms, all while finding the opportunity to pinch the blonde Beauty's plump, pert bottom.

"Holy crap, that works? The guy can actually gamble?" Kirk was dumbfounded. He'd never thought Little Fatty had much of an Intelligence score. The guy had always bragged that he never ran short on Energy Value. Kirk guessed he couldn't use any skills that required Energy Value at all.

Seeing Little Fatty living it up made Kirk instantly furious. The guy was being a lousy friend! How could he be doing so well without letting his big brother get a cut? Kirk had just started to walk over when the other player shouted, "This fat guy's cheating! What do you mean, a straight flush? Beat him up!"

Little Fatty laughed, completely unfazed. "Kid, do I look like that kind of guy? Look carefully. It's a straight flush..."

He didn't get to finish before someone hurled a hand of cards at his face. "Those cards clearly came from the table over there! They're marked! You pig! You tried to cheat me!"

Little Fatty's eyes darted around. Kirk sensed trouble and was about to slip away, but Little Fatty spotted him. "Big brother! Get over here! Someone's trying to stiff me! Big brother, you have to stand up for me..."

Kirk shouted as he ran off, "I'm no brother of yours! Don't follow me..."

Little Fatty and Kirk walked down the road with bumps all over their faces. Kirk asked, "How did you get into Las Vegas?"

Little Fatty puffed up with pride. "Your Fatty Bro—no, I mean, your little brother's been through a whole world with you, big brother. I've got 10,000 points, at least."

"I saw you win quite a bit just now," Kirk said, giving him a knowing smile.

"Don't..." Little Fatty panicked, grimacing as he said, "I just have quick hands. I was cheating at cards. If I hadn't cheated, I'd have lost a lot more. The only hand I won was the one you saw."

Kirk grew curious. Little Fatty looked so honest and slow-moving. Who would've thought he had such nimble fingers? Little Fatty didn't try to hide it and told him about his lucky break.

It turned out Little Fatty had also been brought to Las Vegas, and he'd been thrilled. Just think about it: a homebody who was both greedy and horny, arriving in a heavenly paradise like this. Of course he'd go all out and let himself go. Gambling was a gateway to women, so Little Fatty had excitedly made the casino his first stop!

Then, without the slightest surprise, Little Fatty had come out covering his face, stripped naked, and tossed out of the casino.

Fortunately, there was a way out. Outside the casino, Little Fatty had actually met a kindly old Daoist priest with an otherworldly air. In exchange for the last 5,000 Survival Points Little Fatty had, the priest sold him a mutated Advanced Skill Scroll: [God's Hand]!

Little Fatty told the story with such excitement, as if he were some unlucky kid walking down the road who'd traded an apple for a copy of The Mighty Tathagata Palm.

At that point, a burst of curses came from the brothel up ahead. An old Daoist priest had been stripped completely naked and thrown out in a cruel and inhumane fashion. It seemed he'd failed to pay for a prostitute, triggering a bloodbath. The priest dusted off his backside, cursed a couple of times, and stalked away.

Looking at Little Fatty's vivid expression, Kirk almost felt sorry for him. Other than the [Huang Rong's Soft Armor] he wore against his skin, the poor guy had nothing left. He'd learned [God's Hand], but otherwise hadn't strengthened anything at all. The next world was going to be rough.

"Open the skill description. Let me take a look," Kirk sighed.

Little Fatty knew he'd gotten himself into trouble again, so he obediently opened the skill description. Kirk's face turned green as he read.

[God's Hand]

[Grade] Special Advanced Skill

[Level] level 1

[Description] This skill came from a great player. He conquered the world of football with his feet, but made history with his hands. This proves that the greatest thief doesn't necessarily need quick hands. He just has to learn to seize the moment—and have a little luck. Then what he wants will be his.

[Effect] At the cost of 10 Energy, for the sake of love and justice, steal!

[An incredibly sleazy line of tiny text] This skill's success rate isn't determined by Agility. It's determined by luck. Will you succeed, or get your hand chopped off? That depends on whether God favors you.

What a bizarre skill. Little Fatty was a real character.

But!

But what use was [God's Hand] to a tank-type MT whose livelihood depended on a 75% faster recovery rate, and who specialized in taking hits? (Little Fatty: Who said I wanted to be a punching bag? I'll say it again: Your Fatty Bro is Little Horse plus Bond!)

Was he supposed to take hits while stealing his opponent's equipment, making it disappear before their eyes until they were stripped naked and driven to despair?