In the workshop.
Richard went over his finances once again, then slapped the table in frustration.
"Damn it! How did the money run out so fast?!"
If he wanted to build a floating city, he couldn't afford to be broke.
But making money in the United States? That was a headache in itself. Richard had considered some "local customs" — like zero-dollar purchases — but unless he robbed a bank, that sort of small change wouldn't fund his plans.
If not for the last bank job, sourcing materials through official channels would be nearly impossible now. Richard wasn't opposed to robbing another one — just to see how far he could go.
As for holding down a regular job? At that rate, it'd take him decades. Now, if corporations were hiring the undead, that'd be a different story. Richard could summon a few hundred skeletons to do shifts and rake in the cash.
Unfortunately, people in this world had a deep prejudice against the undead. Back in the Floating City 'Star of Wisdom', undead workers were the most reliable labor force — low cost, no need for sleep, no wages, endlessly hardworking. Aside from being a bit disgusting and intellectually challenged, they were the perfect tools.
Unable to earn money using undead labor, Richard was genuinely disappointed. He'd have to find another method to make a living.
"Maybe I can borrow a little from the local gangs," he muttered, thinking of the now-defunct Hungry Wolves gang. That had been a very profitable venture. He gave a heartfelt thanks to nature for its bountiful gifts.
Still, that wasn't a sustainable plan — even fruit needs time to ripen before harvesting again.
You couldn't put all your eggs in one basket. In addition to this "natural donation" method, he decided to open up a second income stream — solving supernatural incidents.
This world might look normal on the surface, but according to his observations, there was no shortage of strange events.
Rich people, especially, would pay top dollar to have these incidents resolved. After all, why do supernatural happenings always seem to target the wealthy? The poor barely have the strength to sin, let alone attract curses.
If someone really wanted to go seek out trouble or provoke paranormal forces, well... that's their choice. May whatever god they believe in offer mercy.
And so, Richard opened a paranormal investigations agency in a nearby neighborhood. It would earn him money by handling supernatural cases, grant access to rare magical materials, and — equally important — let him collect intel and rumors.
In a low-magic world like this, any paranormal phenomenon was bound to be tied to some rare magical item or magical residue. Even the events themselves might serve as magical materials.
Although Richard could cultivate certain magic resources, he was still unable to open his demi-plane. That meant he was limited in the types of materials he could produce.
Many rare components needed highly elemental environments to evolve. Take mithril, for example — this magical metal only forms in worlds that have undergone elemental tides. In ordinary realms, the only way to trigger its evolution was by saturating raw ore with intense elemental energy — and even then, the success rate was terrible.
Richard prepared a wand for himself. It was crafted from the heartwood of an ancient oak tree he found in the forest behind his villa, infused with elemental energy, and embedded with a gemstone.
After enchanting it, the wand could store three Tier-2 spells and three Tier-1 spells.
He loaded it with:
Energy Shield
Lesser Deflection Field
Featherweight
Arcane Missile
Flame Jet
Rainbow Spray
With offense, defense, control, and escape all covered.
Each spell could only be used once and needed to be recharged afterward. At present, this was the most advanced magical item he could create.
As for why he chose a wand over other weapons — Richard had trained in staff combat. In a pinch, he could just whack enemies with it. Besides, blunt weapons were particularly effective at dealing critical hits against female enemies — something he'd learned through painful experience.
---
The paranormal agency stayed dead quiet for several days after its opening. Richard's dreams of raking in cash hadn't even started yet.
With nothing else to do, he decided to stroll through the old district. Maybe — just maybe — nature would once again offer him a generous gift.
Just as he was about to lock up and leave, the phone rang.
He picked up. A few minutes later, he hung up with a wide grin.
"Finally! First case, here I come!"
The call came from a wealthy businessman. The situation was a bit tricky. His newly acquired mining site had been experiencing strange incidents. Humanoid beasts were attacking workers, and several miners had gone missing.
The police treated it as a simple missing persons case. After a routine investigation turned up nothing, they left.
And just days after their departure, more workers disappeared. When the businessman called again, the police simply cordoned off the area and put up warning signs. Solving the problem? Not their concern.
Come on — you think American cops get paid enough to risk their lives? Since when has their job been to protect taxpayers?
With no other options, the businessman hired a private search party — only for them to be attacked in the woods. Only one barely made it back alive.
He hadn't believed in supernatural occurrences before. But now? Facts were facts. And if you think a capitalist would give up a mine just because of a few monsters, you clearly don't understand capitalists.
With no better choice, the businessman started hiring all kinds of weirdos: gypsy witches, self-proclaimed exorcists — even Richard's paranormal investigations office.
Michigan wasn't close to New York. The Great Lakes were in the way. Fortunately, air travel in the U.S. was convenient, and Richard arrived without issue.
Michigan, known for its abundant mineral and natural resources, had its largest city in Detroit — which no one would guess would go bankrupt in just over a decade.
By the time Richard got there, several other teams had already arrived.
There were three burly men who seemed to be working together, an old man, and a strangely dressed woman — probably the gypsy witch.
As Richard was observing, a middle-aged man with a commanding presence strode in.
"You all know the situation," he said. "I don't care if you're frauds. Whoever solves this problem gets $300,000. If you can't—hmph."
"Damn it! I've had enough! Do you even know how much I lose every day the mine isn't operating?"
"Mr. Smith," one of the muscular men stepped forward, "I think you should leave this to real professionals. These old folks and misfits are just going to slow us down."
As he spoke, he shot a mocking look toward the old man, the witch, and Richard.
The old man scoffed. "Muscle won't solve this. You'd best walk away while you still can. Or you'll need divine intervention to survive."
"You looking to die, old man?" The muscular guy took a step forward.
But before he could do anything, the old man smoothly drew a revolver and aimed it straight at him.
"Enough!" Smith barked coldly. "I'm not here to watch a show. Just fix the problem!"
"Henry, take them there."
A young man stepped out from behind Smith and began leading the group toward the site.