The Secret of Constructing Formulas (4k5)

The Secret of Constructing Formulas (4k5)

"Then I definitely can't run. We share blessings and burdens, right—"

The fat man, dressed in a loose Patrol Bureau uniform with mud deliberately smeared over the identity information on his badge as though he had just finished some filthy, exhausting job, grinned.

But when a cold gust swept past, he shivered and warily looked around.

"Jeez, it's kind of cold, boss. Why's this underground morgue so damn chilly?"

Ever since they had infiltrated the Patrol Bureau and entered the elevator, he had felt that something was off.

They were supposedly only going down one floor, yet the elevator had run for an inexplicably long time, dropping at least three stories.

Even the GG flickering inside the elevator had become hazy. Its passionate lyrics distorted and stuttered strangely.

And when the elevator doors opened, an obvious chill mixed with the scent of disinfectant rushed at them.

The spotless white corridor somehow gave off a sticky, filthy feeling. The fluorescent tubes overhead buzzed and flickered, making his vision swim.

Not far away stood a cold alloy door. The guard room beside it was empty, but whenever the fat man looked toward the shadows beyond that door, he felt an inexplicable sense of danger emanating from within.

It was as though someone was watching him from the darkness, staring at the flesh on a dinner plate, desperate to tear him apart and devour him.

No, no.

How could there be ghosts in Ideal City?

Comforting himself with that thought, the fat man gradually relaxed. He even hardened his heart and glared fiercely back at the shadows, baring his teeth and claws in an attempt to scare whatever ghost might be hiding there.

But this time, he did not see nothing.

He really saw a pair of eyes flash through the darkness.

They were cold eyes shimmering with the brilliant colors of countless stars, as though a galaxy flowed within them.

Those eyes vanished in an instant. The fat man rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but all he could see was darkness.

Yet now, he no longer dared glare back into the shadows.

"Is-is-is-is there really a g-g-g-ghost, boss?!"

He jolted and instinctively hid behind the skinny man beside him, clutching his arms as he trembled.

"W-w-w-should we run first—"

"Why are you making such a fuss? Do you have any dignity as a Superpowered at all?"

The gaunt thug, a scar crossing his face, snorted coldly. He wore a loose Patrol Bureau uniform without even a badge, and he smacked the fat man across the head.

"What ghosts and monsters? You've only just awakened your ability, so you still don't understand what being Superpowered really means—"

As he spoke, he pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips. Then he casually snapped his fingers, and cold, dark green flames appeared at his fingertips.

He casually ran the green fire over the cigarette tip. The gray-green shredded "hay" mixed with tobacco leaves curled from the cold, then turned pale and powdered away beneath the frigid flame.

But because he quickly moved the green fire away, the cold flame on the cigarette lost its support. It gradually lost its special nature, returned to normal, and became an ordinary bright orange-red ember.

He took a deep drag. The stench of burnt tobacco mixed with greasy lard spread out, pouring from his mouth alongside yellow-white smoke and gathering into a cloud of filthy fumes.

The gaunt thug savored the harsh smoke with pleasure, then burst into laughter and declared grandly.

"With superpowers, even if there really are ghosts, wouldn't they still be crushed beneath our Personal Reality?"

"Once we move those bodies out and trade with the boss for an ability advancement experiment, going from Lv.1 to Lv.2, then Lv.2 to Lv.3..."

"By then, we won't be any different from those college students who studied for years and fought their way through the Three Great Academies."

"Do you think those college students spend every day scared of ghosts and that kind of crap?"

Hearing that, the fat man calmed down as well, suppressing the fear in his heart.

That's right. You can't keep acting like this, Fathead!

You're not that useless piece of trash from before, unable to collect protection money or even overturn an old man's or old woman's vegetable stall!

Now you were a lofty Superpowered, an important figure as noble as those college students!

Even if there really were ghosts, so what?

Even ghosts should be no different from those trash living in shanties, unable to awaken even their Personal Reality, when facing your and the boss's abilities.

They would kneel before you and obediently hand over their credit points. Ghosts would be the same—they would kneel before you and have their souls scattered.

Once they moved the bodies away today and got the boss to arrange several ability advancement experiments, slowly rising to Lv.3, they would truly be about the same as graduates of the Three Great Academies.

Thinking of that future, steadily advancing his abilities and stepping into Ideal City's upper class, the fat man could not help humming softly.

"You're right, boss. Even if there really are ghosts, there's nothing to fear. After all, we have the secret technique the boss gave us!"

"With that secret technique, even if there really is some ghost, you should be able to burn it to ashes."

He gathered his courage and strode ahead without hesitation, heading directly toward the alloy door covered in frost and leaking cold air.

"I'll pry this door open right now—"

As he spoke, the muscles in his arms suddenly swelled. Savage patterns emerged across them, and bone-spike-like protrusions burst from beneath his skin. In the next instant, his arms became covered in scales, his muscles knotted, and blood thundered through his veins as though those were the limbs of some enormous beast.

He strode forward, apparently intending to tear the iron door off through brute force alone. But just as he passed the guard room, a black figure slowly stepped out and casually kicked him, sending him flying!

"You babbled for so long, yet you never introduced yourselves or explained your motive and identity. I had to listen to a whole bunch of useless daydreaming nonsense—"

Ron lightly dusted off the corner of his clothes and looked somewhat helplessly at the gaunt thug, who stood frozen in place with his cigarette nearly burning his fingers.

The reason Ron had not immediately arrested the two men was that he wanted to hear whether they would identify themselves and reveal some useful information.

He had not expected them to act like they were still drunk and had not woken up, dreaming of becoming Lv.3 before they had even gotten into bed.

Only Lv.1? Did they know how difficult it was to become Lv.3?

Ron shook his head and glanced sideways at the Dimensional Update Manual, unable to stop himself from feeling a little frustrated.

Although he had stopped this "grave robber," there was no notification that his Loss of Control had decreased. Clearly, this matter could not trigger the [Acting Method].

Was there still something wrong with this kind of acting? Was there some deeper reason?

Forget it. No matter what, he would arrest these two little thieves first.

From those scattered remarks, Ron could tell that there was probably a sizable organization supporting them. They had actually found a way to send away the patrol officers from District D's main Patrol Bureau, leaving this underground morgue temporarily unguarded.

Thinking of how the entire C-112 squad and Doctor Lin had been given the day off today, this was likely how the organization behind these two men had sent away the patrol officers.

An organization capable of such methods, along with two "grave robbers" who were Lv.1 Superpowered...

Though they had not accomplished Ron's greatest goal of helping him digest the [Gravekeeper] Potion, they should still be worth quite a few credits at the Patrol Bureau.

Ron would not let such fat prey slip through his fingers.

He picked up the badge on his chest, recalled the lines Xia Zhi had taught him that morning, and copied her manner.

"This is C-112 Squad, Discipline Patrol C08—"

"Cough, cough—what C08 or C88? You're alone, and you think you can catch us?"

A fit of dry coughing came from nearby. The fat man Ron had kicked away coughed as he pushed himself off the ground, forcing himself upright amid shattered tiles and cracked concrete walls.

Perhaps his physical enhancement ability had made his body exceptionally tough, because Ron's kick had not seriously injured him.

"You're just a Patrol Bureau officer who happened to run into us. Keep yapping, and I'll kill you!"

Ron paid no attention to his threat and scratched his head.

"You have violated the Ideal City Public Security Penalties Law. No, wait, was it even that law?"

The gaunt thug flicked away the cigarette in his hand, having no desire to listen to Ron any further. He shouted.

"Fathead, get him! This can't see the light of day. Kill him!"

The fat man immediately pounced obediently. His pair of savage giant fists swung up, like stones hurled from a slingshot, as if he wanted to smash Ron into pulp with one punch!

But Ron seemed not to see anything at all, still pondering whether he had gotten his warning right.

Then he quickly let out a relieved sigh.

"Forget it. Who cares what law it is? You can probably tell that I never received normal induction training, so I'm not entirely sure which law I'm supposed to use to arrest you."

Before he had even finished speaking, the fat man had already rushed before him, both fists striking viciously from front and back—

Ron merely extended a hand and lightly tapped one of his fists.

It was as though time had stopped. The fat man instantly froze in place—

But in the next moment, his arms suddenly swelled and split apart, blood mixed with shattered scales spraying everywhere.

He tried to move again, but the force direction of his legs, which had been stepping in place, abruptly reversed. They bent backward like snapped chopsticks.

Ron waved his hand and casually tossed the fat man, already unconscious from the pain and limp as a torn sandbag, aside. Then he finished what he had been saying.

"So I can only follow the principle of escalating force, responding to the violence you use with equivalent violence, so you can experience the Patrol Bureau's true enforcement strength."

Only then did he activate the body camera hanging around his neck and calmly look at the gaunt thug. The thug had just ignited dark green flames at his fingertips, but before he could act, he saw the fat man's miserable state and froze in place.

"Please immediately stop your ongoing illegal activities and surrender without resistance—I think you should know what to do now, right?"

As he spoke, he watched the gaunt thug gradually extinguish his fire and stop using his ability, then gave another order.

"Head up, chest out, hands behind your back. Squat there first, then tell me what's going on with that green fire in your hand—"

Ron had actually been very curious about what exactly the green fire in this man's hand was.

After all, when Ron had been hiding in the guard room and secretly observing them, he had not been using only his eyes.

The instant this man used that cold green fire, Ron had immediately equipped [Age of Gods Remnant] and opened Magic Vision—

That green fire felt far too familiar. No matter how he looked at it, it resembled "Necromantic Fire."

But unfortunately, under Magic Vision, neither of the two men possessed even the slightest magical radiance.

The green fire ignited by the gaunt thug was the same. Though it possessed properties almost identical to Necromantic Fire, it had absolutely nothing to do with magic power.

Ron had also found no magician's "Ability Amplifier" on them, nothing like the Emerald Signet Ring.

In other words—the "Necromantic Fire" he had ignited had nothing whatsoever to do with magic power or Magic.

It had truly been released by his awakened Ability Model, a superpower unique to him!

That interested Ron greatly.

Considering that, according to them, their abilities had only recently awakened and they had also undergone some kind of ability activation experiment—

No matter how Ron considered it, he felt there was some secret behind this.

And as it happened, he was someone curious about every kind of secret.

But the gaunt thug did not speak.

He neither squatted nor spoke. He only stared at Ron with cold eyes, obvious hostility filling his gaze.

Had he still not understood the gap in their strength?

Ron frowned and immediately activated [Vector Manipulation].

There was absolutely no way a Lv.1 Superpowered could resist him. What gave this man the confidence to maintain such hostility even after witnessing Ron's display of power?

Could it be... that he had some special trump card Ron did not yet know about?

Although a Lv.1 could never defeat Ron even with some trump card, Ron knew that these people struggling at Ideal City's bottom rung had always possessed some strange methods.

There was never anything wrong with remaining cautious.

With that thought, he pushed [Vector Manipulation] to its limit and activated reflection, then slowly walked forward, preparing to capture the man himself—

But unexpectedly, the man began muttering inexplicable words, chanting sentences Ron could not understand at all.

As though he had suddenly gone mad, the man twitched both hands and waved them strangely through the air before him.

What was this guy doing, performing some shamanic ritual?

Why had he suddenly started acting so incomprehensibly? What did he take Ron for, a ghost or a goblin?

Did he really think this kind of crazed behavior could send Ron away?

Ron was puzzled, but then the gaunt thug before him suddenly stopped.

Cold flames abruptly ignited behind Ron. He instinctively turned around and saw dark green fire erupting from the fat man's body. In an instant, the man died completely, without the slightest remaining trace of life.

In the next moment, faint dark green flames lit up in the fat man's eyes. As though he were still alive, he suddenly rose to his feet—

Then, moving even faster than before, he lunged straight at Ron!

At the same time, seeing that the fat man's corpse had drawn Ron's attention away, the gaunt thug immediately turned and ran.

How could Ron possibly fail to understand what this man had just done?

The inexplicable muttering, the incomprehensible ritualistic movements—

After completing the ritual, a sudden, enhanced burst of superpower—this was clearly an [Ability Formula], a special interpretation of an Ability Model that only Lv.3 Superpowered could construct!

This man was clearly only a Lv.1 Superpowered, yet he had somehow used a Formula—

Could this be the secret technique the fat man said their "boss" had arranged for them?

Who was their boss? The Central Intelligent Brain of Ideal City?

Ron was momentarily lost, completely unable to understand how this had been done.

But although he had never thought a Lv.1 could construct a Formula, Ron knew one thing: since this man had used a Formula right in front of him, he must be hiding a secret related to constructing Formulas!

Perhaps this was a new possibility that would allow Ron to bypass Prometheus's computational Authority and construct Formulas through another method...

At that thought, Ron could not help curling his lips into a smile.

He had never expected that catching a small thief would lead to such an unexpected gain.

His Formula finally had a lead!