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Chapter 59: Terms of Employment
🕑 Added 2025-07-03 16:09:04 +0000 UTC"It's surprisingly comfortable." As the [Mark 3] armor finished assembling around him, Russell had braced for the unyielding sensation of hard iron, but the feeling was unexpectedly fluid. With the assistance of the onboard AI, flight was not just possible, but intuitive. It was less "assistance" and more a total operational takeover; Russell felt he could probably fall asleep mid-flight and the suit would handle everything perfectly. The primary downside was the risk of the AI being hacked, though he could assume manual control if necessary. Fortunately, master-class mechanists were practically non-existent in the Daming Federation. At least, none that Russell had ever heard of.
After putting the suit through its paces inside the house, Russell retracted the armor. Luffy immediately began clamoring for a turn. With a good-natured laugh, Russell summoned the [Mark 3] again and let the rubber boy suit up. Watching Luffy whoop with joy as he zipped around the room, Russell's mind drifted into strategic thought. He recognized that the materials he'd purchased online were just a fraction of the components needed for such a complex device. He had only succeeded because the purple-quality [Individual Combat Armor] he'd salvaged from Five had served as the irreplaceable core. He couldn't make another one from scratch. Compounding the problem, none of the secret realms he had experienced so far produced the kind of advanced mechanical materials required.
His recent, unsettling encounters with the Spirit Begging Society had made him far more cautious. I have to take this one step at a time, he planned mentally. After the expense of creating the [Mark 3], he had only about 500,000 credits left to his name. His original intention had been to create a medical-type creature card, but the recent upheaval had thoroughly disrupted his plans. Still, the armor was no small consolation. And... I can also choose a bronze-level secret realm to enter, he remembered, recalling the promise President Jennings had made after the Prodigy Cup.
To be honest, after the chaotic events of the last few days, Russell felt a strange and unexpected sense of relief. His new, false identity as a Society member meant he no longer had to look over his shoulder for them. In their eyes, he was already one of their own. Though, if they start assigning me tasks, it might get a bit troublesome, he thought with a frown.
The next day, when Russell returned home from school, he found Marcus waiting for him, sitting on the sofa as if he belonged there.
"Why are you here?" Russell asked, though he immediately understood the reason. "Does the Society have an assignment for me?"
Marcus nodded slowly, his face impassive.
At the confirmation, a cold dread coiled in Russell’s gut. I didn't expect to be activated so soon. He had already prepared himself for this moment. If the Society asked him to do something truly evil—to harm innocent people—he would report them to the Association and be gone by morning. That was a line he would never cross.
Seeing the grim look on Russell's face, Marcus misinterpreted it as fear of danger. "Don't worry," he said, his tone deceptively reassuring. "The Society won't assign you any truly dangerous missions for now. A genius like you isn't a disposable pawn." Marcus was, of course, fully aware of the mission's actual details. The purpose was to deliver resources to Russell under the guise of a task, a standard method to increase a new recruit's sense of investment and obedience. At this rate, Marcus thought with a strange sense of irony, I'll be taking orders from this kid in a year or two.
Shaking his head to clear the thought, he handed a piece of paper to Russell. Using physical paper was more secure than any phone; it could be burned after reading. Russell took the document and read it. After a moment, his gaze lifted to meet Marcus's. "This man is registered with the Association. Why does the Society want him?"
The paper detailed a bronze-level cardmaker named Victor Drake, who secretly ran a human trafficking ring. Because he was a registered and sometimes useful asset, the Association typically turned a blind eye to his transgressions.
Marcus just shrugged. "You know about the recent events. The Society needs to cultivate some new subordinates. He is one of the targets."
"You just need to find a way to get him to sign this contract," Marcus said, handing Russell a document that looked unnervingly familiar.
"And if he refuses to sign?" Russell asked casually, taking the contract.
"Then kill him," Marcus replied with complete indifference. "He's not a good person anyway."
Hearing his words, a hint of sharp sarcasm touched Russell's face. As if the Spirit Begging Society is filled with saints.
Marcus saw the look and his voice hardened into a threat. "Don't even think about killing him and making off with the mission's resources. Don't forget, you signed a contract too."
At this, Russell had to physically restrain a laugh. Sorry, but we are not the same kind of people. And what makes you think my plan is to kill him directly?
Though he thought this, he put on a convincing show of being angered by the accusation. "Got it," he snapped back, his voice sharp with displeasure.
Seeing Russell's expression, Marcus softened his tone, shifting from enforcer to colleague. "Don't be angry. If you complete the task, there will be a reward for you." In his mind, the two of them were now in the same boat; no need to make their relationship so strained. "And…"
He took another item from his pocket. It was a card. "We've prepared a concealment tool for you."
Taking the card, its information materialized in Russell's mind.
【Beads of Concealment】
Rank: Bronze
Quality: Blue
Category: Prop
Skill [Conceal]: Beings below the Bronze level will not be aware of your presence.
Skill [Stealth]: Electronic devices below the Bronze level cannot capture your traces.
Note: The effect will be nullified when you launch an attack.
In Marcus's opinion, the Society was truly showing how much it valued Russell. Normally, new recruits were left to fend for themselves. Important information was never shared with low-level members, so if they died on a mission, they died. It was a simple, brutal calculus. But Russell was being treated differently.
"Okay, that's the mission," Marcus said, standing up and brushing down his suit. "I'll come to see you again at this time tomorrow."
He paused at the door. "I'll find a reason to have your watchman, Giles, transferred for the night. You must be back before midnight, regardless of whether you've completed the task or not."
If Marcus hadn't been concerned that Blake or Jennings might check on his arrangements for Russell on a whim, he would have had the guard removed from his post entirely. But thanks to his public position as the branch president, he could at least visit Russell's home openly. The very reason a high-ranking member like him was personally handling Russell's recruitment was to keep the boy's identity a secret from the rest of the Society's lower echelons.
Russell just nodded slightly, indicating he understood. Watching Marcus leave, he finally let out a long, slow breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The tension drained from his shoulders. He had been afraid the mission would be to persecute good people. Fortunately, his first target was anything but.
"In that case," he thought, his expression turning cold and resolute, "you can only blame yourself for your bad luck."
In the dark of the night, a sleek, silver armor soared into the sky, flying towards an abandoned factory on the coast.
