Weapon seller in the world of magic

Later, at the noon;

The Prison cafeteria was filled with noise.

Sungjun stood in line with his tray with his eyes forward, calm as a man waiting for a bus he takes every day for work. Behind him, Steve towered like a quiet shadow but remained humble.

At one of the tables, a group of inmates sat watching. One of them, a broad-shouldered, with a mohawk and a tattoo crawling up his neck, leaned forward, a grin twisting on his face.

”Well, look at that,” one said, nudging his buddy. ”Mr. Incredible is out of his hole.”

”Who’s the pretty boy in front of him, Steve was talking to? Never seen him before,” another snorted.

”A friend, maybe,” a third guessed. ”Looks like a celebrity from Zhonggou, though. Did he supply drugs or something?”

The leader with the mohawk chuckled, setting his tray aside. ”If he is a friend, then he must have something on Steve. Let’s go give him a warm welcome.”

The four of them stood and swaggered toward the line. The crowd nearby quieted out of curiosity. Everyone around could anticipate that something worth watching was about to happen as they stopped in front of Steve, and the latter’s jaw tightened. ”What?”

The man spread his hands, a smile never leaving his face. ”Relax, big guy. Just wanted to check out your new friend here.”

He turned his attention to Sungjun, eyes sliding over him like measuring a mark. ”Hey, pretty face. You might wanna be careful around here... The man behind you just has the physique, but he doesn’t interfere or protect you. With such a girlish face and flawless skin, you are going to attract quite a lot of men here...”

A few around burst into laughter.

Steve hissed in response. He was about to react, but Sungjun beat him to it, looking up at them and saying flatly, ”I don’t know who you are, but based on your words, it feels like either you’re too starved to tell men from women or you just like men.”

The laughter was instant, and they were even louder. A few trays clattered.

However, Sungjun wasn’t done yet. He had to get into trouble to complete his mission anyway.

Taking a glance at the other three behind the mohawked man, he further provoked, ”You are not using contacts or spectacles. So, I guess your eyesight is fine. That means I guess you just like men who are clean-shaven. So tell me — when you get lonely, do you take turns with those three bithes of yours? Or is it one of those gay four-man orgy setups?”

That broke the cafeteria. Bursts of laughter, sharp whistles, and even the guards near the doors cracked grins at his words.

On the other hand, the mohawked man’s face went red; a mix of rage and humiliation was clearly evident on his face, and he blew up. ”You basard! I’ll kill you!”

He lunged forward, swinging his fist straight toward Sungjun’s face.

But Sungjun already responded. With a thought in his head, his mana surged within his body, but it didn’t come out; instead, it flowed through his leg bones, strengthening them like steel.

He twisted slightly, then kicked.

A blur — that’s all the man saw before something struck him.

The sound of impact cracked like a gunshot. The mohawked man’s body lifted off his feet and slammed into a table three meters away, snapping it in half before crashing to the floor in a mess of food and splinters.

Silence followed by the scene.

The man groaned once, then went still.

The others froze in place, not daring to breathe, watching that for a second before one of them shouted. ”Get him...”

Sungjun didn’t even look at the man writhing on the floor. He turned slightly and held out his tray. ”Steve,” he said flatly. ”Hold this.”

Steve blinked once but obeyed, taking the plate without a word.

The moment his hands were free, Sungjun stepped forward. The next man moved—hesitant, too slow. Sungjun’s fist sank into his stomach before the inmate even finished raising his guard. The man folded like wet paper, collapsing to his knees.

The next one came from the side with a broken bottle. Sungjun turned, grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted until the crack echoed, and slammed his face into the table edge. Blood sprayed across the surface.

Two more lunged at once, joining in the fight. He dodged the first, swept the second’s leg, and drove an elbow into the first man’s chest on the turn. The crack of ribs was sharp and clean.

By the time Steve set the plate down on a nearby table, half a dozen inmates were already on the floor. The rest hesitated, then charged as a group.

Sungjun sighed, shaking his head. ”These idiots don’t have a bit of intelligence.”

He charged forward again.

When it ended, the cafeteria looked like a battlefield—tables overturned, trays scattered, food smeared across the floor. A dozen men lay sprawled and groaning.

Behind the counter, the guards stopped serving. One of them raised his walkie-talkie, voice tight. ”Get the warden. We’ve got a situation in the mess hall.”

Sungjun brushed his sleeves, as if dusting off the violence. Then he turned to Steve. ”Plate.”

Steve quickly handed it back, eyes wide but silent.

Sungjun walked forward through the chaos. Inmates shifted out of his way without being told, a ripple of instinctive fear parting the crowd.

Meanwhile, he reached the counter, slid the tray across.

The cooks behind it froze. The head server glanced at his bruised coworkers and then at the dozen unconscious men littering the room. He gulped and silently scooped an extra serving of meat and vegetables onto Sungjun’s plate.

”Thank you,” Sungjun said mildly, taking it back.

He found an empty table near the far wall and sat. Steve followed, sliding into the seat opposite. Neither spoke for a while. Only the clatter of a fallen spoon somewhere across the room filled the silence.

Sungjun ate slowly, unbothered. Then, a faint shimmer flickered before his eyes—a holographic display only he could see.

Ding!

[Emergency Quest Completed]

Reward: +100 System Coins

He swiped the screen away with a thought and opened his quest list. Lines of text glowed faintly before a familiar mission, the one that forced him to come to this place, caught his eye.

Ding!

[Emergency Mission]

Objective: Infiltrate the Maximum Security Prison and extract Ryu Jeong-ho (Seongha’s father).

Reward: Eyes of the Mystic – Unlock

Sungjun’s spoon hovered in midair. His gaze sharpened just slightly. Glancing left and right, he thought. ”This much trouble is enough to make a name here. I need to do more to get to that place.”

He leaned back, eyes scanning the silent cafeteria.

The so-called Anti-Mana Rune Technology—worthless against him. It might shut down hunters, sure, but it can’t touch the system. As long as he has mana, I’m untouchable here. And that itself gave him the confidence to venture down into the deepest parts of the prison.

He took another bite of his food, unhurried. ”How long...” He glanced at the entrance, waiting for the officers.

And a few minutes later, they were in the middle of lunch when two men cut through the hush and came straight to their table.

Both carried that easy confidence of men who knew people in every corridor — the kind of men whose names opened doors and closed mouths. Steve followed their nods with a small, curt breath and said, ”Sir, these two are...”

As Steve introduced the two of them, who were said to have quite a reach to even the deepest levels of the prison, Sungjun set his spoon down without looking up. He then lifted his right arm and rolled up the sleeve, showing the fake claw tattoo braced over the inner wrist — the mark Seongha and all of her gang members bore.

As the two of them looked like they were taken aback, Sungjun asked casually. ”Have you seen anyone else with the same mark? It should be in the same place...”

Their eyes flickered, then blanked slightly — as if a wind had passed over a dusty window.

Sungjun raised his head to look at them, and seeing their hesitation, he quietly scrolled down the screen in the skill section, and with a thought, he unleashed one of the skills, ”Overlord’s Authority, Activate, Hypnotism.” A faint glow brushed the edges of his irises, subtle enough that only those paying the closest attention would notice. Seeing the same imitated subtle glow from the targets, he asked again. ”So, have you seen or know anyone else with the same mark in this prison?”

”There’s— there’s one,” the shorter man murmured in a thin voice. ”Mr. Ryu... The Dragon.” He sucked in a breath as if the name itself hurt him to say.

”Where?” Sungjun asked.

The other answered with an unfocused gaze. ”In the deepest layer. Level—level seven. He’s been locked in there for 3 years.”