Solo Leveling- Ragnarok-Chapter 281

For the villains, the choice was an obvious one.

“Give me fruit!”

“I’ll buy some fruit now!”

“Fruit!”

Even if they killed this “Beru” outside the bank and stole his money, they would begin fighting each other for the coins. It would be impossible to avoid injuries in the process, so in the end, they’d end up limping back to the bank, bleeding, to buy fruit.

What good would that do? Only the bank would win in the end.

On the other hand, there was another choice: They could become owners of the immense pile of cash gleaming in full view. All they had to do was buy fruit at market price and resell it for five times the profit. They couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip by.

Eager shouts filled the air.

“Fruit!”

“Give me that stuff!”

It was a complete riot. The villains looked almost like madmen, shoving their way forward and demanding the bank tellers hand over the fruit.

These were citizens consumed by debt and the need for coins from the moment they set foot in this city. They would quite literally kill for the chance to clear their debts, and murder meant nothing to them. This was a city of villains, after all.

Those who wore chokers around their necks did not bother to hide their malice as they grabbed the employees by the collar and threatened them viciously.

“What are you doing? Bring it out right now!”

“I’m paying for the fruit, so what’s the problem?”

“How much more can I take out in loans?”

“Yeah! Might as well take out a loan while I’m at it!”

“Give it to me! Now!”

Some were even willing to take out loans just to buy more fruit. There would be no problem with doing so, since their money would multiply fivefold once they sold the fruit right back. Who wouldn’t take out a loan for that kind of guaranteed return?

“W-wait!”

“Hold on a minute, sir!”

The sheer ferocity of the mob left the bank tellers utterly bewildered and unable to react.

There was no way to avoid giving the villains what they wanted. Of course, they could try to refuse the transactions in the name of preserving the city’s balance, but restricting access to the essential fruit in this post-apocalyptic world would almost certainly trigger a full-scale revolt among the city’s villains.

It wasn’t just the newcomer they were up against anymore. If all the villains in the city rose up at once, the bank would have no way to suppress them.

That lunatic...

The vice president paled with a look of despair as he turned to “Beru,” who was watching the chaos with perfect ease.

***

Having heard everything that had happened, the bank president snapped the vice president’s neck. The man died without so much as a scream.

Then something horrific happened. The president’s arm, no longer made of flesh but instead a writhing mass of hardened bark and twisting roots, sank deep into the corpse. It began to siphon out the crimson energy within.

The withered husk of what had once been the vice president collapsed lifelessly to the floor, brittle as an ancient, dried-up tree. The president crushed it under his foot. Surprisingly, there was a disturbing look of satisfaction on his face.

The president belched and said, “Damn bastard really stuffed himself, huh? Been stealing fruit behind my back, have you?”

Someone gave a tiny, involuntary hiccup of terror.

The bank employees—many of whom had also secretly eaten fruit from storage—went deathly pale. To their knowledge, the president was only B-rank, but he was also the one person in this city who had consumed the most fruit. They had no idea what would happen if they ate that much or how strong they would become.

Álfheimr was not well understood to begin with. There was no way to know what would happen until one ate that amount and experienced it firsthand. However, there was one thing they knew for certain—the president would never tolerate anyone consuming more fruit than him.

His branch-like arm twisted and shrank back to human form. He absently stroked the arm with his other hand as he spoke to the employees, who were trembling in fear.

“So where is he?”

“W-well... He’s vanished again without a trace,” said one of the employees. “He disappeared the moment he headed out the door.”

“And the others who were here?”

“They sold their fruit to him and scattered.”

“Well, of course. Thanks to him, they each probably made a fortune. I suppose they will live in hiding for a while, wary of each other. What a pain in the ass.”

The president regained his composure, perhaps because he had already vented his anger or because he now felt full. He took a moment to collect his thoughts.

“Hmm. The first order of business is to refill our empty storage room. If the rumor goes around that we have no fruit to sell, the debtors will be the first to march on us.”

The bank employees gulped, looking determined.

The only reason the bank had power in this lawless wasteland was because they controlled the fruit supply. No matter how desperate a debtor became, and no matter how enslaved they were to their growing debt, their bomb-rigged chokers, and daily threats to their lives, they never dared challenge the bank. It held the fruit.

The key to healing any wound was in abundance here. No one would be unhinged enough to attempt to steal from it for a bit of money. Everyone was supposed to have only their one life, but the bankers who held the fruit might as well have had an entire vault of extra lives.

But now the situation had changed completely.

We are out of fruit.

And we have a mountain of cash instead.

They were now a bank with no fruit and a lot of money. This was the worst possible scenario, and it would excite the debtors to no end.

“Everyone, be on high alert. Expect attacks. Those who owe us may try to steal from us once the rumor gets out,” the bank president said.

A look of grim resolve settled over the frightened employees.

This was not a joke. Just earlier, they’d been throttled and shaken by villains demanding fruit. Even that had been tame compared to what was about to come.

That was only about making money—not paying off debts. How many debtors had they bled dry, squeezing their very souls for every last coin using their debt as bait? If everyone in the city who owed money learned about this, they would turn into bank robbers overnight.

“Spread false rumors immediately. Tell the city we still have a hidden stockpile of fruit.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“We must stall for as long as possible. We need time to restock.”

The president’s sharp orders sent the employees scrambling into action.

“And call in the harvesters. Be as discreet as possible,” he said. “Offer them double their usual rate for a few days. God knows we’ve got plenty of coin thanks to that bastard.”

“U-understood!”

“Then what are you waiting for? Move!”

“Y-yes sir!”

“Wait. Hold on.”

The bank president stopped cold as a sudden sinking feeling gripped him. He turned sharply toward the window. There was a distant rumble, and he sensed a faint vibration underfoot.

“No... Not already.”

This wasn’t good. His expression turned grim.

This couldn’t be happening—it was far too soon. Considering the size of the city, the rumors could not have spread this quickly.

Even if a rumor did go around, it hasn’t been nearly long enough to reach everyone. It should still be a while until they gather their strength and march, so—

But ominous premonitions were seldom wrong.

“Sh*t. Everyone, drop what you’re doing and get your weapons!” the president screamed.

The bank employees, startled by the sudden order, did as they were told.

That was when they noticed what the president had, though it was a little too late. When they looked through the windows, they saw that in the distance, a massive mob of debtors was already charging toward the bank, chokers around their necks.

“H-how the hell did they find out this fast?!”

It made no sense. There had been many villains in the bank who had quintupled their money earlier, but this was far too quick.

The employees had no idea that at the very feet of the armed rioters rushing toward the bank, there were voices whispering from the shadows, spreading the news in real time.

“Did you hear? The bank’s out of fruit!”

“No way. That can’t be right.”

“No, really! It’s true! The bakery villain from the market earlier just bought all the fruit inside the bank.”

“Wait, seriously? So right now, there’s...”

“That’s right. They’re all out of fruit!”

“What? That means this is our chance!”

“What are you waiting for? The others have already started off. This is our chance to get revenge!”

“How much longer are we gonna live as their slaves?”

“That’s right. We came all the way to North Korea. It’s not right for us to be enslaved to capitalism all over again!”

The voices belonged to none other than the shadow soldiers that Suho had planted in the shadows of everyone who had been at the market. Even now, the rumors were being passed from shadow to shadow, spreading throughout the city.

“Son of a b*tch! What the hell is going on?”

The bank president couldn’t believe it. In a single day, the city’s fragile peace had crumbled.

He was forced to turn to a last resort. If things were this bad, there was only one thing to be done.

“Do whatever it takes to hold them off! I’ll find a way to deal with this. Stall as long as you can!” he barked sternly.

“Y-yes sir!” the bank employees replied.

Their hesitation gone, they began to draw forth the energy they had absorbed from the fruits they had eaten. Their skin began to transform, turning hard as tree bark.

It wasn’t as potent as the president’s own transformation, but the employees were still the citizens who had consumed more fruit than most. And just a moment ago, they had just learned from the president how to wield that power.

They could likely hold back the debtors for a while, just as he had ordered. Their hardened skin gave them an extra layer of defense.

None of them, however, could have predicted what the president was about to do next. With a sudden, violent cracking, he tore open the floorboards right before their eyes. A hidden safe lay beneath.

A secret safe?

There’s a vault we didn’t know about?

Are there fruits inside? Or weapons?

The first thing that came to mind was fruit, but what the president retrieved was something else entirely.

A stone tablet?

It was small, old, and etched with a strange pattern.

While the bank employees stared in confusion, the bank president ground his teeth and clutched it tightly. “Just hold them off for a little while longer. In the meantime, I’ll buy fruit from another city.”

The employees’ eyes widened.

Paradise was the last refuge in North Korea for the surviving villains. However, North Korea was not the only place where outlaws had carved out a city for themselves. There were rumors that there were other cities in China and Russia where villains had fled to escape their own country’s associations.

“Ugh. I’d rather die than turn to them for help, but we’re in a hurry. We have no choice. I’ll buy several hundred from either China or Russia, whichever sells them for cheaper.”

As the bank president had said before, they had plenty of money, if nothing else.

With an exasperated sigh, he activated the tablet. A surge of red energy pulsed from his palm. The tablet flashed with light, the space in front of him contorted, and a gate opened.

***

At the same hour, Woo Jinchul stopped atop a pile of dead magic beasts to catch his breath.

“Sir, we’ve got an incoming transmission.”

“Oh?”

A subordinate had approached him. The hunter handed Jinchul a radio and a bottle of water.

“Thank you. I was thirsty, as it so happens,” Jinchul said.

He took a long sip before switching on the radio. It looked like an antique piece of hardware, but it was actually a state-of-the-art device that could maintain a connection even in a misty, apocalyptic land.

There was a hiss of static, then a calm voice filtered through the speaker.

“Status report. This is Paradise Shadow. There’s been an incident. A riot has broken out in the city. The cause is a villain named Beru who arrived in the city just yesterday.”

Jinchul, who had been listening idly, was so flustered that he spat out his water.

Jinchul’s subordinate immediately tensed up at the look of pure shock that flashed across the chairman’s face. The always composed, controlled man looked completely caught off guard.

This must be extremely serious! the subordinate thought. No, wait. Is he... smiling?

The hunter felt a creeping sense of confusion as Jinchul adjusted his black sunglasses.

“Beru is there, you say?” he asked.

He was grinning, any traces of his earlier expression gone.