Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Mark of the Capitalist

The cave fell silent.

A long exhale broke the stillness that had lasted over a dozen seconds. Colin glanced behind him.

Shana’s face was largely expressionless, yet her gaze flickered, drifting between the girl’s grave and the olive trees.

The servants looked indifferent, showing little empathy.

What caught Colin by surprise was Lee Chou—his eyes had turned red. Lee Chou rubbed his eyes and muttered, “Ah, getting old—I can’t bear to hear such stories anymore.”

...But I only said a few words. What sort of drama did you imagine in your head? Colin was sure he was the only one who knew the full tale.

He shook his head, not rushing over to the girl’s grave. Instead, he took out the parchment scroll and submitted the completed quest.

Then, Colin opened the historical quest information on the scroll and handed it to the others. “Take a look—consider it a witness.”

At the same time, the system’s notification rang in his mind: “Quest completed.”

“Congratulations, you have received ‘Hard Black Bread’ x99.”
“Congratulations, you have received ‘Bloodthirst Stigmata’ x1.”
“Congratulations, you have received ‘Level One Custom Design Blueprint’ x1.”
...

“No quest rating?” Colin grumbled inwardly, feeling that the system was becoming increasingly stingy. Surely his efforts deserved at least an S rank?

But nothing appeared.

[“Bloodthirst Stigmata”]
[Type: Level One Stigmata.]
[Item Description: In combat, each instance of damage steals 15% of the damage as health, up to 10% of your total health per minute.]
[The stigmata can be imprinted by using “Thorns of Suffering” and distributed to subordinates. Up to thirty copies allowed, each providing 5% life steal, with a maximum of 1% of your own health per minute.]
[Note: Life steal from copies will automatically transfer 30% of the amount to the main holder, unaffected by time for recipients (this can be adjusted, up to 100%)...]
[Remark: Be human! You can’t squeeze blood from robots or stone golems, so stop trying.]
[Tip: Every three identical stigmata can be synthesized once. At higher levels, robots might not be immune to blood extraction.]

“Hiss, the mark of a capitalist…” Colin was genuinely astonished.

How could someone destined to inherit society use such a capitalist thing?

A second later, he forgot his previous qualms, stroking his chin. Would damage dealt by firearms count?

If so, wouldn’t that mean he could maximize life steal every time?

Colin knew exactly what this could mean.

He decided to test it out when the opportunity arose...

Yet, the more he thought about it, the more something felt off...

With this power, he suddenly recalled how everyone only ever collected a few milliliters of filthy blood when slaying monsters—at most a dozen or twenty milliliters...

It must be his imagination. How could such an advanced civilization need to draw water from them?

Colin shook his head, then looked at the image in his inventory—drawn in simple lines, resembling a drop of blood falling onto water.

“Bind ‘Bloodthirst Stigmata’ to yourself? This binding can be canceled.”

“Yes.”

With a thought, Colin felt a slight sting on his right wrist, and a red thorny pattern encircled it.

It resembled a bracelet woven from thorns—sinister, vivid.

Soon, with another thought, Colin hid the mark.

Like the level-two title he had upgraded not long ago, this too appeared as a “tattoo” and could be concealed at will.

“Each copy of ‘Bloodthirst Stigmata’ requires about ten ‘Thorns of Suffering’—not bad, not too costly…”

“But how much should I take? Ninety-five percent?”

“No, that would be too inhuman…”

“Seventy-five percent…”

“No, let’s settle for fifty percent…”

After some inner struggle, Colin settled on a reasonable rate.

But perhaps reminded of something, he sighed. “If only I had that mysterious item, number ninety-seven on the resource list. I remember its effect is to attract all aberrants within a three-kilometer radius. As long as I don’t run into a lord-level aberrant’s territory, I could recover health anytime, anywhere…”

“Then, I could use armored vehicles to build a moving fortress and make the aberrants pay for it.”

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Colin. “Wait, I can have them capture a batch of aberrants, then execute them as needed for massive healing. Since healing is calculated by damage dealt, I wouldn’t need to kill them outright. I could chop off a hand, then a leg—so long as I don’t cut off their heads, each aberrant could be used four or five times…”

“Hmm, I feel there must be even better uses. When the time comes, I’ll convene a meeting to brainstorm…”

He then turned his attention to the final item, one that could very well elevate his entire faction’s power to a new level.

“‘Level One Custom Design Blueprint’.”

[You believe that, with this, you could craft simple firearms, but lack the necessary expertise.]

“I’ll just leave the design work to them…” Colin decided simply, planning to hand it over to Huang Weiyang, currently his “chief scientist,” in a moment.

He then put away his backpack. Barely two or three minutes had passed.

“That Church of Suffering truly does nothing decent!” Lee Chou cursed as he returned the parchment to Colin.

Even Shana was utterly disgusted by the Church of Suffering.

…Indeed, they do nothing decent, but why does that line sound so familiar? Colin stored away the scroll.

He knew better than anyone that Father Kimino, who had followed the priest, was likely caught up in the power struggle between the “Saint of Light” and other saints…

Engracia and Kimino—both could be considered sacrifices of this conflict.

Moreover, judging by the quest details of “The Withered Land of Olives,” the death of this “Miracle” girl was unlikely to be so simple.

But now was not the time for more stories. Colin regained his composure and looked at the black stone coffin not far away.

His “Withered Land of Olives” quest remained unfinished.

Around the black coffin stood six olive trees, arranged largest to smallest. These were the only olive trees in the cave.

Furthermore, these six trees were far more twisted than those outside—bizarre faces, arms, and legs grew from their trunks.

They surrounded the black coffin, some kneeling, some standing, as if clutching the coffin and weeping. Every face was etched with agony.

[Hint: During the six years Engracia performed miracles, she personally planted one olive tree each year. These six were all planted by her own hand.]

Meanwhile, Colin saw that the black stone coffin appeared to be slightly ajar, its interior deep and shadowy.

It seemed there might be another space within.

...

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