INFINITY MONEY SYSTEM: Buying My Way to the Watchers' Legion

CHAPTER 7

 

The energy vortex surrounding Marco intensified with each passing second. Golden mana spiraled inward like a hurricane, the phenomenon so powerful it created visible distortions in the air. The absorption radius expanded beyond the alley, pulling ambient energy from blocks away.

Isabella's analytical gaze never left Marco's form. She extended her senses deeper, trying to understand the impossible transformation occurring before her. What she discovered made her breath catch.

"The mana patterns on his skin..." she whispered, her ice-blue eyes widening. "Those formations are more complex than anything I've ever seen. Even Archmage-level awakeners don't display such intricate structures during their initial awakening."

Envoy Marcus moved closer, squinting at the glowing symbols that had begun manifesting across Marco's exposed skin. Ancient runes and geometric patterns interwove in impossibly complex designs, pulsing with golden light. "Lady Isabella, those patterns... they're self-forming. I've never witnessed anything like this in forty years of observing awakenings."

"Because it shouldn't be possible," Isabella replied, her voice tight. "Every awakener follows the same fundamental process—mana condenses into a core, the core stabilizes, then power flows outward. But he's doing everything backward, and the patterns suggest a level of sophistication that takes decades to develop."

The vortex pulsed. Marco's body shuddered, and a wave of power exploded outward.

[Novice Rank Level 1 Achieved]

Isabella's eyes narrowed. "He just broke through to Novice Rank. But at this speed—"

Another pulse. The golden light blazed brighter.

[Novice Rank Level 2 Achieved]

Marcus stumbled backward. "Two levels in seconds? That's impossible! Even S-rank talents require hours between—"

[Novice Rank Level 3 Achieved]

[Novice Rank Level 4 Achieved]

The breakthroughs came faster now, each one accompanied by a surge of power that made the very air tremble. The mana patterns on Marco's skin grew more intricate with each advancement, forming layers upon layers of interconnected formations that defied comprehension.

Isabella's hands clenched into fists. A cold sensation settled in her chest—something she rarely experienced. Unease. "This defies every law of awakening. He should be hitting bottlenecks, experiencing mana rejection, struggling with foundation instability. Instead he's advancing like—"

[Novice Rank Level 5 Achieved]

[Novice Rank Level 6 Achieved]

"—like it's effortless," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus's face had gone pale. "Lady Isabella, even you required three days to reach Novice Rank Level 5 during your awakening. And you were hailed as a once-in-a-century prodigy!"

Isabella's jaw tightened. He was right. Her own awakening had been legendary—achieving Novice Rank Level 7 within a week had shocked the entire Moretti family and secured her position as the Duke's heir. Nobles from across the continent had sent congratulations. Her name had become synonymous with genius.

And now this nobody was matching her pace in mere minutes.

[Novice Rank Level 7 Achieved]

[Novice Rank Level 8 Achieved]

Isabella's ice-cold composure cracked. "Seven... eight..." Her voice trembled with something between awe and disbelief. "In the time it takes to brew tea, he's reached a level that ninety-nine percent of awakeners never achieve in their entire lives."

The vortex reached its peak intensity. The golden light became blinding. Every piece of loose debris in the alley lifted into the air, orbiting Marco like a planetary ring. The mana concentration was so dense it became visible as shimmering waves of energy.

Then, with a sound like thunder cracking directly overhead, the final breakthrough occurred.

[Novice Rank Level 9 Achieved]

The vortex collapsed inward, all that gathered power condensing into Marco's body in a single instant. The light vanished. The debris fell. Silence returned to the devastated alley.

Marco opened his eyes. They glowed with soft golden light, and his entire presence had transformed. Where before he'd seemed ordinary, unremarkable, now he radiated quiet power. Not overwhelming, not oppressive—but undeniable.

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. "Interesting. This feels... substantial."

Isabella stared at him, her expression frozen somewhere between shock and calculation. Novice Rank Level 9. The same level she'd achieved—the level that had made her a legend. But she'd done it through years of preparation, exceptional natural talent, and what she'd always believed was the advantage of her past life's experience.

He'd done it in five minutes without even understanding what he was doing.

"You..." Isabella's voice was cold, carefully controlled. "You have no mana core. No traditional energy pathways. No proper foundation. Yet you've reached Level 9." She stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. "What are you, Marco Deluca?"

Marco met her gaze calmly. "Someone who solves problems with available resources, apparently." He brushed dust from his sleeve with casual indifference. "Though I admit, this particular resource feels more useful than gold coins."

"You speak as if you've simply purchased a new coat!" Marcus sputtered. "Do you have any comprehension of what you've just accomplished? Novice Rank Level 9 in a single awakening! There are grandmasters who would kill for—"

A groan interrupted him.

All three turned toward the sound. Among the scattered, unconscious Santoro warriors, one figure stirred. Unlike the others who wore the family's crimson colors, this man wore tattered black robes that had once been expensive but now hung in strips. He pushed himself to his feet with obvious effort, blood trickling from a cut above his eye.

He was young—perhaps mid-twenties—with sharp features and intelligent eyes that held both bitterness and calculation. A faded family crest on his torn collar identified him as nobility, but the crest had been deliberately defaced, scratched nearly beyond recognition.

"Finally awake, are we?" Isabella's voice returned to its usual cold indifference. "Another piece of Santoro trash. Marcus, dispose of—"

"Wait," the man rasped, raising one hand. His voice carried the cultured accent of high nobility despite his bedraggled appearance. "I'm not with them. Not anymore."

Isabella's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You wear their colors. You attacked with their forces."

"I wore their colors because I had no choice," he replied, meeting her gaze without flinching. "But I am Alessandro Santoro, third son—disowned, cast out, and declared dead by the family three years ago." His lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I was conscripted for this attack under threat of actual death. But now..." He looked at the devastation around them, at the unconscious elite warriors, at Dominic's humiliated retreat. "Now I see an opportunity."

"An opportunity?" Isabella's hand moved to her weapon. "To betray your forced allies and join the winning side? How predictable. How pathetically opportunistic."

"To join those who just utterly destroyed the family I hate," Alessandro corrected, his voice gaining strength. "I have information. I know the Santoro Family's secrets, their weaknesses, their hidden resources. I request to join the Watchers' Legion."

"Absolutely not," Isabella said flatly. "I don't accept garbage with questionable loyalties and obvious ulterior motives. Your family cast you out for a reason—probably because you're worthless even by their standards."

But Marco was studying Alessandro with unusual intensity. Something about the man triggered his instincts—instincts honed from reading countless stories in his previous life. The disgraced noble. The mysterious past. The convenient arrival at a crucial moment. The bitter determination mixed with hidden potential.

Every sign screamed "protagonist material."

Alessandro wasn't just a desperate survivor. He was a variable. A wildcard that could shift the entire game board.

"Lady Isabella," Marco said quietly, his golden eyes never leaving Alessandro. "Perhaps we shouldn't be too hasty in our rejection."

Isabella turned to him, surprise flickering across her features. "You can't be serious. This is obviously a trap or—"

"Or an opportunity," Marco interrupted. "You said it yourself—information about the Santoro Family could be valuable. And..." He smiled slightly. "I have a feeling about him."

Alessandro's eyes widened, hope sparking in their depths. "You... you'll consider my request?"

Isabella looked between Marco and Alessandro, her analytical mind racing. Finally, she let out a long breath. "Fine. But you're Marco's responsibility. If this garbage betrays us, you deal with him." Her ice-blue eyes fixed on Alessandro. "And understand this clearly—I don't trust you, I don't like you, and the moment you become more trouble than you're worth, I'll kill you myself."

Alessandro bowed deeply despite his injuries. "Understood, Lady Isabella. You won't regret this."

"I already do," she muttered.