Chapter 12

A man walked in, sharply dressed in business clothes, making a beeline for the counter to order himself some food without paying any mind to any of the people present in the diner, which were not a great deal many at this hour in the afternoon. His watch must cost more than my entire life is worth.

But that was not what had given Michael pause. No, it was the faint aura of magic that he could clearly see surrounding the man when he observed him with [Mana Sense] that made him almost gasp in shock. After an entire day spent trying to see if there were other people with magic, he had almost given up, almost allowed himself to draw a sigh of relief thinking that perhaps magic had yet to spread across the world. Now, seeing the feeble yet very present aura around the man, he knew it was not the case.

Although, his aura is different than mine. Weaker, yes, but it feels as if it’s been there for a long time, sedimented over his body, infusing every single cell. It was hard to tell, as it was more like a feeling or a hunch and not real data, but the magic felt old and stale, barely used, a finite resource like a stagnant pond that had not seen new water in a long time. Compared to the man, Michael’s aura was vibrant and energetic, flowing and ebbing according to strange rules he did not comprehend, and his mana was always no more than a few days old.

He ignored the man, giving him no more than a few looks—he couldn’t help himself—but trying not to bring attention to himself. The man had clearly not noticed him, either because he was unable to or because he was simply that good of an actor that Michael could not tell, but unless he did the first move Michael was more than content to pretend that he knew nothing about magic at all. At the same time, ordering another cup of coffee for himself (he could cleanse the ill effects with his healing skill once the caffeine entered his bloodstream), he pulled out his phone and made some searches.

Most of them were about the dungeon. Last time he had checked, he had found no real news about anything out of the ordinary save for some old articles published more than a year ago by some not very trustworthy websites. Even now, at a surface level there seemed to be nothing new, but a more careful search revealed bits and pieces of news that together could be taken as clues leading somewhere.

The first sighting of strange things began two years ago, and not even on the Trail. The Trail only became marginally relevant for a brief window of time around fifteen months ago, and after a couple months all news about it disappeared once again, as if it had been nothing but a fluke. Despite this, strange forums and message boards were documenting that something was going on with the world, and that some people were acting strange.

Signs of magic, perhaps? It was not exactly easy to trust pixelated YouTube videos, or shaky camera footage recorded from a CCTV network. But coincidences and strange things were piling up quickly. Europe, Africa, Japan, China. United States. It seemed that every part of the world was involved, and not just the area around the Trail where Michael had found the dungeon. There was a guy in Australia who claimed to be able to do nasty things with poisons and blood.

The theory about multiple entrances is starting to look plausible.

A 4chan thread talked about these powers in more detail, despite most of the replies mocking the original poster as a poser trying to roleplay on the wrong board. Michael had his doubts that the guy was trolling the users of the forum, though, since the way he talked about his alleged powers was strangely similar to how skills and magic worked for him, if not with some flavor differences.

It was not definitive proof by any means, but it was too much to ignore.

Back at the pawn shop, Old Dave was waiting for him in the parking lot. The heat was only barely giving in to the cooler temperatures of the night, even though the asphalt below their feet was still scalding after being under the sun the whole day. The light was dim, and being face to face with Old Dave really hammered home just how tall the man was, considering his age and wrinkles. He towered over Michael, who was not a short person by any means, but a quick look below his clothing revealed that he was thin and his skin stretched and folded, and that most of his strength had probably left him long ago.

They drove, taking Old Dave’s car to the club, and it was during the short drive that the old man gave his last instructions. “I know it’s not much, but it’s your first job. You’re there mostly to learn. Simple bouncer duty. The disco is quite tame, compared to others, so you can just stand there and look menacing. You need to learn the skill, how to exude presence, you understand? I’ll be watching you and don’t worry, once you get some practice with it, I’ll move you to more profitable jobs. Sounds good?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect. I like the look on your face. Five, ten nights tops and you’ll look a natural. Then you’ll tell me if you want to work where it’s real fun. For now, just go there and be vigilant, break up fights and stop people from shooting too much stuff up their veins if you can help it. That’s it. If there’s a brawl and you can stop it without hurting people too much, there’s extra, but I wouldn’t count on your nerves just yet. Remember, there’s other more experienced bouncers too, if you don’t feel up to it, just call them. Although… you need to show some spine. You get it.” They parked on the private lot behind the club, after which Old Dave showed him the back entrance. “Now, go change, do your job, go home when the club closes and I’ll see you at the pawn shop tomorrow with the cash. Remember, I am watching you.”

***

“These sofas really are something else,” Old Dave said, drink in hand, as he lounged in the private area on the second floor of the club. The owner was there with him, buttering him up with free drinks as most small-time business owners tended to when they found out who he was.

“Indeed, only the finest in the VIP section. People who pay should get all the benefits they deserve.”

Old Dave hummed noncommittally. While what the owner said was true, he did not really see why anyone would want to splurge fifty bucks to sit on a sofa on a balcony on the second floor when the view was nothing at all. The dance floor was minuscule, and the stage was an affront to basic building codes to say the least. On the wall, there was a miser LED wall, half of it not even working properly and flickering constantly, and the smoke and lights were barbaric. The music was decent, he had provided the venue with the DJ after all, but the speakers were awful. All in all, no reason to sit up here at all.

But clubs were profitable, and he wanted a slice of this new pie he had found.

Besides. I must be wrong in my assumptions. He thought as he looked around, seeing just how many upstart youngsters were sitting here in the VIP lounge surrounded by girls, doing nothing at all. Some of them were chatting, feeling each other up, but this was not the place nor the time to do anything more than touch some skin and clothes, and drink overly expensive cocktails. True enough, perhaps Old Dave was being too harsh with this place, and with an entry fee of only $5 for men and free entry for girls, he could see why the tiny dance floor was packed harder than Japanese trains at rush hour.

That’s when his eyes scanned the room in search of his new bouncer boy. Michael was one naïve fool, so green despite being 25 years old compared to others with much more experience and maturity working the field as early as 17 or 18 years of age. Heck, Old Dave was no slave driver who employed minors, but he knew of people who did, and some of those kids were outright scary.

But he had seen something in Michael, some eagerness to change things about himself perhaps, as if his naivete was being slowly but surely eroded away by a harsh life. Old Dave was sure, perhaps arrogantly so, that he could help polish the kid up to be a real gem one day, for he did seem to have potential despite being a late bloomer.

Right now he was standing there, scanning the crowd with unusual intensity and none of the boredom or tiredness Old Dave assumed he would see on his face after three hours of booming music. Instead the kid was studying everyone carefully, assessing, profiling. He could see it in his eyes, the way they shone whenever he saw something interesting, that he was also aching for some action. Funnily enough, most people could unconsciously tell that about him, and the troublesome ones stayed well away from him.

Not what Old Dave had hoped to see—he wanted to see how the kid would act in case of a brawl—but then again his expectations were too high for a place like this. He was still decently satisfied with his new recruit, who handled the occasional indoor smoker and the inappropriate drunk young man being less than chivalrous with the girls dancing without a care in the world. All according to the rules he had been told, nothing requiring him to really think too much. He was being a good grunt, but Old Dave wanted to really test him, see if he could trust the kid with other jobs as well. The kid needed money, but what was even better for the old man was that the kid seemed to crave recognition and connection, while Old Dave himself lacked someone who could take over some of the more troublesome parts of his many business ventures as his health deteriorated in his old age.

This could be a win-win for both of them, each getting what they wanted, if only the kid could be trusted. Old Dave, despite his ruthlessness, was too much of a softie and had been burned too many times already.

“Your new kid. He’s pretty decent,” said the owner after his rounds of ‘networking’ were over. Old Dave wanted to snicker at him, laugh at his pathetic attempts at becoming relevant, but then again by simply being here he had given the man confidence enough to feel important, if only for a night.

“Picked him up from the street, basically. I’m hoping I can avoid him turning into a delinquent, if I can.”

The owner laughed. “You truly have a soft spot for the wretched and the hopeless, don’t you? How can you even handle a pawn shop, robbing people of their cherished possessions for mere pennies?”

Old Dave shrugged. “That is business. You don’t know me well, do you?”

The owner made a face, knowing he had overstepped. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You should watch your tongue. That kid? He’s decent, he’s handling it well. I mean, not that there’s much challenge in a dump like this place.”

“Excuse me?” The owner said, a bit riled up.

“Speaking of,” Old Dave continued as if the other man had said nothing, and his voice was clearly audible even with the music, “tonight was a freebie because I needed to test the water with the kid at your expense. Next time I want payment.”

“Payment? For what?” the owner asked, now truly riled up.

“Listen,” Old Dave turned to face him, starting at him in the eye with an intensity that made the man shrink in his seat, “this place is a dump, there’s no way it can take off on its own. Not only is it in the middle of nowhere, but people can barely even dance down there. I saw you had them queue up in the parking lot, you damn moron. Is this how you do things in this day and age?”

The owner shrugged. “I work with that I have, man. The bar’s working overtime, guest list is amazing, the DJ rocks, what else do I need? So what if they are made to wait in the parking lot? It’s summer, they can deal with it.”

Old Dave sighed. “Who helped you secure the DJ, and the guests, and even the extra barista you got there? Mmh? The hot one, by the way, who’s selling twice the drinks as the others because all the drunk guys hit on her. Who did all that? I did.”

The owner said nothing at that, but Old Dave could easily see that he was displeased and wanted to say more. That’s it, no more working with morons. I already have enough on my plate as it is. Carmela is coming from Italy in a few days, and I need someone to pick her up from the airport. Perhaps the kid could do it? Well, I would need to test him first, let’s see…

Bored with the conversation already, he pulled up his phone and sent a text message. Normally he would have waited before testing Michael like this, as they had barely even met two times and only for a brief window of time, but he needed some entertainment. If it all went to shit, too bad, then he would have to look for a new recruit to mold to his needs. But if it went well? It would mean that this Michael had potential, and Old Dave could start to polish him a little bit.