Ch 117: My Multiverse Supermarket

Emerald Wasteland, Boulder Town.

This was a small settlement built by exiles.

Those who lived here were thieves, mercenaries, and vagabonds—people who had offended nobles and been forced to leave their homeland.

From time to time, merchants passed through, bringing goods and the latest news from the two great factions. In exchange, they would pay the townsfolk to do the kind of dirty work that couldn’t be done openly.

When there were no jobs to take, these infamous outlaws spent their time drinking in taverns or gambling in underground casinos.

Some were drunk beyond reason; others had lost every coin they had.

When two of them happened to bump into each other on the street, a fight was inevitable.

Tonight, the familiar sound of gunfire rang out.

A drunken man swayed and collapsed to the ground as blood began to seep from his body.

The gambler who had just come out of the casino holstered his gun, walked up, and stripped the drunkard of his clothes and boots. Finding nothing valuable, he cursed, “Worthless bum,” and left, swaggering under the mocking eyes of onlookers.

No one around was surprised.

Someone whistled. Someone else chuckled and returned to the tavern. A town scavenger came to collect the corpse, performing the task with practiced efficiency.

The crowd dispersed, leaving a man in a top hat and formal coat to walk slowly into the noisy tavern.

His arrival brought a brief hush—then cheerful voices rose again.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Ebus, intelligence director of the Arca Company! Got some new intel for us?”

The Arca Company was one of the four major corporations of the “Trade Union.” It had sparked and driven the Steam Revolution, with factories spread across all four continents.

It was also infamous for using child labor, exploiting workers, running brothels, and lobbying to legalize such practices.

But to the faithless, lawless mercenaries and rogues of Boulder Town—people who served whoever paid more—such things were not shameful at all.

New intelligence meant new missions, and new missions meant income.

Ebus was quickly surrounded.

He swept his gaze across the room and said, “I need scouts for a reconnaissance mission—people who can move at night without being noticed.”

“That’d be us, the rogues!” Several lean figures stepped forward.

The others, seeing this, immediately withdrew from competition.

Not out of fear—Boulder Town simply had rules.

Once an employer specified certain requirements, anyone who knowingly didn’t meet them yet forced their way into a job and failed to complete it would be branded with an unforgivable sin. They would be shunned as disgraceful and could never show their face in Boulder Town again.

Only those who succeeded were exceptions.

This time, Ebus needed operatives who could move unseen in darkness—there was no better choice than rogues.

Once it was clear there were no other competitors, Ebus asked the tavernkeeper for a private, soundproof room and took the selected rogues inside.

He said, “Our people saw a Black Raven Legion airship cross the Emerald Wasteland earlier today. A quartermaster and several paladins disembarked at Vitas Outpost and then vanished. I need you to find out where they went.”

The rogues exchanged glances.

From that alone, Ebus had revealed two things:
First, that the Black Raven Legion and the Church of Holy Light were active in the wasteland;
Second, that the Arca Company had spies planted in Vitas Outpost.

One rogue asked, puzzled, “Since when are the Black Raven Legion and the Holy Light Church working together? Are they planning something in the Emerald Wasteland?”

Ebus replied, “Not exactly. I heard that the Magic Council’s Ascension Trial Grounds suffered an elemental outbreak. They dispatched mages to deal with it. The Church sent paladins for protection, while the Magic Council hired the Black Raven Legion as additional guards.”

“So they came to the wasteland for that?” another rogue asked.

He immediately got a knock on the head from his companion. “Idiot. The Emerald Wasteland doesn’t even have a Magic Council trial ground. There’s no way that’s why they’re here.”

Ebus said, “That’s precisely what I want you to find out.”

The rogues didn’t ask why he didn’t simply use his inside informants.

Clearly, those spies were stationed within Vitas Outpost—but since it was merely a Black Raven base and not their main command, those soldiers wouldn’t have access to the legion’s officers or the Council’s mages. They wouldn’t know what the paladins’ real assignment was.

“This job pays ten gold,” Ebus said.

The rogues accepted without hesitation and slipped out into the night.

*

Though Rebecca wanted nothing more than to send the paladins galloping back to Vitas Outpost immediately, night had already fallen.

The Emerald Wasteland was a no-man’s-land precisely because of its treacherous terrain—swamps, forests, graveyards, ravines—and the many criminals and beasts that prowled it.

After dark, things were even worse: shadow creatures from the underworld, wandering ghosts, and death knights roamed freely. The danger level skyrocketed.

Even Yag wouldn’t dare travel at night.

So the group decided to wait until morning.

Rebecca knew there was no point rushing and ordered them to set up camp nearby, lighting a bonfire.

As the paladins gnawed on their black bread, a delicious aroma drifted through the air. Only now did they realize—amid their earlier fixation on the elemental gemstones—that this place had spices!

After the Steam Revolution, trains, ships, and airships made it easier to transport spices from their regions of origin, ending their exclusivity to nobles.

Still, they remained costly—far beyond the reach of peasants.

Even paladins, who earned ten gold a month, couldn’t afford them often.

Alchemists used spices frequently for potion-making, which was why, like mages, they were often penniless. When traveling, if they didn’t carry herb satchels, even thieves couldn’t be bothered to rob them.

“To have so many spices for sale—she must be from Atmos!” Yag said, his suspicion hardening into certainty.

…

“Is the United Kingdom of Atmos a country?”

Inside the supermarket, Zhou Li asked Rebecca, who was trying to build a friendly rapport with her.

Rebecca’s expression turned slightly odd, as if she couldn’t understand how anyone could be unaware of Atmos.

But wanting to leave a good impression, she patiently explained, “Yes, it is—but it’s actually a union of eleven kingdoms and territories of various sizes that have banned the use of magic and promote the Steam Revolution.”

Zhou Li understood immediately.

Ah, so basically a John Bull situation.

She asked again, “Then what about the faction that values magic—what are they called?”

At the mention of her own side, Rebecca became noticeably livelier. “The lands that pursue eternal magic are naturally called the Holy Land of Eternity. We refer to it as Mayrelia.”

Zhou Li asked, “Is there no single form of government or state?”

“…There are more than eighty nations and factions,” Rebecca replied, “but as long as they revere magic, they are all part of Mayrelia.”

That explained something for Zhou Li. When Rebecca introduced the Black Raven Legion earlier, she’d only said it was affiliated with Homoleia, never specifying which kingdom or duchy it belonged to.

From what Zhou Li had gathered so far, Homoleia was an armed organization devoted to the War Goddess.

This group likely functioned like the medieval papacy in Europe—existing above national boundaries. That meant Rebecca probably had no concept of citizenship at all.

After thinking for a while, Rebecca finally gathered the courage to ask, “May I ask, madam—whose side are you on?”

Zhou Li replied, “Neither. I’m neutral.”

Rebecca wasn’t surprised.

From Zhou Li’s lack of basic knowledge about the world, it was clear she hadn’t lived in either Atmos or Mayrelia.

She probably came from somewhere in the Emerald Wasteland, where people might buy the occasional technological product from passing merchants.

“Madam—”

“Just call me Boss,” Zhou Li interrupted.

Rebecca quickly adapted. “Boss, besides these elemental gemstones, will you be able to acquire more in the future?”

The question was a little risky—because any shrewd merchant could deduce her true intent from it.

If someone could keep supplying elemental gemstones, that meant they knew where an elemental vein was. It would be easy to send spies to follow them later.

But Zhou Li, appearing as naive as a sheltered noble lady, said casually, “It’s possible, but I can’t guarantee how many.”

Rebecca tamped down her greed and politely asked, “By the way, Boss, may I know your full name?”

“There’s no need,” Zhou Li said. “I’m neither a noble nor a follower of any god. I’m a merchant. Whether it’s Atmos or Mayrelia, as long as you follow my shop’s rules, you’re welcome here.”

Rebecca concluded that she must be part of the “Trade Union.”

The Trade Union was a neutral organization made up of merchants and corporations.

Of course, that neutrality was mostly for show—many companies had their own allegiances.

For instance, the Arca Company had completely abandoned the rules of the magical world. It was a purely Steam-aligned capitalist enterprise.

They had first enraged the Goddess of Nature by over-mining, logging, and polluting the land.

Then, with support from the Cult of Desire, they opened brothels under the guise of honoring the Goddess of Love—dens filled with violence and bloodshed, considered blasphemous by the Goddess of Life.

They also frequently broke contracts and went back on their word, earning the hatred of the Goddess of Oaths.

Even the Goddess of the Underworld, who presided over the realm of souls, complained to her followers that the underworld was overcrowded—thanks to the flood of dead laborers who had perished under Arca’s exploitation.

On the Magic side, there was an organization known as the Senate—a trade guild made up of minor nobles.

Since high nobles were forbidden from engaging in commerce, they secretly supported lesser nobles to do business on their behalf.

Sometimes, when these great nobles wanted products made by the Steam Faction but couldn’t purchase them openly, they would have the Senate handle it—repackaging the goods as “magical” products for resale within their own faction.

There were also opportunists who operated between both sides.

Rebecca thought the Boss’s attitude fit such opportunists perfectly.

…

Mist began to roll across the wasteland.

As night deepened and the air cooled, the fog thickened.

Soon, the paladins noticed undead and wraiths drifting nearby.

Drawn by the light and the presence of the living, the spirits slowly began to gather.

Yag blew his battle whistle, and Rebecca rushed out to join the fight.

Zhou Li and An Fengxuan had no intention of joining.

They had planned to watch, but the fog was so dense they couldn’t see a thing.

When closing time came, they simply shut the door, went upstairs, took their baths, and went to sleep.

[Author’s Note]

Setting Notes

[Magic Faction / Mayrelia] Faith Organizations:
God of Light — Church of Holy Light (Paladins) — Magic Council (Mages)
War Goddess — Homoleia Armed Order — Black Raven Legion (Rangers)

[Steam Faction / Atmos] Faith Organizations:
Goddess of Love — Cult of Desire

p.s. [Arca Company] is not a faith organization; it merely cooperates with the Cult of Desire.

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