One of the biggest issues Mark wanted to address was his shabby swordsmanship.
He was already far ahead of schedule when it came to his Stats—now he just needed to focus on his actual combat skill. Stats were powerful boosts, but they weren't a true measure of power.
'I could probably close a 30-level gap in the right circumstances…'
What he was really missing out on was the mastery of an Art.
If one fully understood a sword Art, they could replicate it several times over—gaining the ability to pass Arts to others. Due to this, Art prices were egregiously overpriced, for it granted generations worth of value.
Mark checked what the Luikots Guild had to offer, but as a part-time member, he couldn't access any Arts, Items, or Skills of real importance.
His current school schedule included Class 1-A and a few lecture classes—with 1-A being the only one of any real importance.
Now with swordsmanship at the forefront of his focus, he decided to sign up for an afternoon supplementary Combat Clas via his watch.
'With all that crap out of the way, I can finally put some respect on my name and get some clothes.'
But there was actually something much more pressing: his legal troubles.
He also needed to set aside 10 Gold for his school fine. In total hiring that special lawyer—60 Gold coins would be taken from his new fortune.
'What kind of respected fantasy protagonist has to deal with fines, legal trouble, and money-making? None worth any damn respect. I should be out killing bastards and building a harem…'
Reality was often disappointing. With no cheap and easy early-game Items or big treasure troves, Mark would have to flail around in social systems for a while.
He was really struggling to find actual use for his vast supply of information—the early game struggle was brutal.
Maybe if he found an engineer, Mark could give them tons of different ideas from Earth.
'Wait, couldn't I manufacture guns?'
That could quite literally solve all his problems—power and money. Alas, it was too good to be true.
He vividly remembered the 'User Spilling World-Shattering Secrets' system screen that End gave him during his first class day. If guns weren't a world-shattering secret, then Mark didn't know what was.
It was getting late. There were a ton of thoughts to be had, especially with Mark's improved memory, he could recall a lot more information with ease.
…
With his business concluded in the Luikots Guild, it was time for some late afternoon shopping.
Luckily for Mark, the Glass Tower District was a high-end commercial hub—not just the home of the top-tier Guilds.
As Mark exited the Guild, he was immediately approached by two men in dark red suits: Ember Union agents.
"Mark di Abbott," the agent announced. "You've been served."
Shoved into Mark's hand was a set of folded court papers. The agents promptly walked off—all Mark did was sigh as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
'Most cordial interaction I've had with an officer…'
Looks like Mark would be making his way to the lawyer first after all. Conveniently, the lawyer was in the Glass Tower District; he wouldn't have to go far.
Pocketing the papers, Mark trudged along to his destination—the 13th floor of Raymond Tower.
The afternoon streets of the city's downtown were packed with influential aristocrats shopping and the shuffling of busy businessmen and Guild members.
When he looked, it was quite easy to tell who belonged where.
Luikots Guild members had all worn white and grey. Cristall Guild members wore an obnoxious deep blue. And worst of all, Raymond members wore a disgusting yellowish-tan color.
The last two in the top five Guilds, Mateychuk and Sillinger, wore light green and purple respectively.
Some members walked in cliques, glaring at other Guild members, both sides touting obnoxious, bright-colored suits.
'Rich kids having faux-gang wars. Adorable.'
It seemed like the aristocracy's number one priority was to flaunt their social status.
Though Mark supposed that he would also be pressured into getting a white suit of his own—at least they looked decent. The purple suits were also quite stylish—reminding him of a particular pimp.
Making his way to the Raymond Tower, his pace was slowed as a crowd gathered along the sidewalk in front.
Most were either fangirls, fanguys, or paparazzi with magic cameras, all trying to get in the action.
Security held a tight barrier as camera flashes lit the outside of the lavish gold skyscraper.
Mark managed to peer through the crowd to get a glimpse.
In the center was, of course, Lucas Raymond. However, he was also accompanied by Valeria Sarr and Ronald Montour—definitely a paparazzi's wet dream.
The main cast was swarmed as they slowly pushed through with the help of security, loading up into a carriage.
'Wait, that carriage doesn't have a horse… the Royal Family has magic-powered carriages? Why are they the only ones?'
Probably to flaunt their infinite money, as usual.
Mark would create plans for actual magic-powered cars if he could, but he was no mechanical engineer; his car knowledge was minimal.
'Let me just walk on by please…'
As Mark circumnavigated the crowd, a voice bellowed over the already loud murmurs.
"Hey, Mark di Abbott! Noble Thrasher!"
'Fuck me…'
Leaning out the window was the red-headed Valeria Sarr, she waved, using her eyes to direct others. Obviously, she was trying to fuck Mark over.
Heads began turning toward Mark, who was trying his best to squeeze into Raymond Tower.
"That's the Noble Thrasher!" someone shouted from the crowd.
"Get some photos of the Super Rookie!"
"Mr. Abbott! This way!"
'What…?'
CLICK CLICK CLICK.
About half the cameras peeled off, immediately blinding Mark with camera flashes.
His vision immediately darkened as he tried to blink his way out of it, keeping his head down.
'Fuck this micro-celebrity ego-stroking bullshit! I'm trying to survive out here! How the hell do they know me?'
A few closest to Mark tried to grab onto him, asking for autographs of various items—a newspaper in particular.
He shrugged them off and continued forward.
Eventually, as Mark began to be swarmed by cameras and bystanders, he managed to weasel his way past security and through the revolving doors of Raymond Tower.
In the relatively quiet—and massive—lobby, Mark collected his breath.
VRRRRRR. VRRRRRR…
A notification popped up on his watch with an audible vibration.
===================
To: Mark di Abbott
From: Lucas Raymond
I apologize for Valeria's antics. It seems like you may have business at my Guild—attached to this message is VIP access. Hopefully, no one hassles you any further. See you in class!
===================
'Pretty nice guy.'
Mark was willing to take drastic actions if he wasn't allowed on the 13th floor, but it seemed like it would be no issue. Lucas Raymond was quite thoughtful, all things considered.
As he prepared to ask the front desk for directions, something off to the side caught Mark's eye.
A few shelves lined the lobby wall, holding free magazines and newspapers. He could recall seeing a flash of a similar newspaper within the crowd. The title read:
'Brutality at Kolzig-Bondra: Super Rookie Thrashes Marquis.'
In just a few days, Mark had been unknowingly thrust into a ridiculous, watered-down version of Guild-based celebrity pop culture.