Chapter Three: The World of the Ninja

"Hey, Cain, you've been ditching me again these past few days. If you don't come and help me beat that video game soon, you'll lose an exceptional trader like me!"

Carl Shelton slung his arm around Cain's neck, threatening him in a mock-serious tone. Carl's father was a well-known stockbroker on Wall Street, and under his father’s influence, Carl had been studying the American stock market from a young age and had developed quite a talent for trading.

After discovering Carl’s trading skills, Cain decided to entrust him with some funds, asking him to open an account on his behalf. With Carl’s father’s help, the process was much quicker than Cain could have managed on his own. Once the account was open, Cain handled the strategy and Carl simply carried out his instructions.

So far, both of them had made a decent amount of money. Carl, having grown up with his father warning him about the dangers of the market, never invested too much and therefore hadn't made as much as Cain. Most of Cain’s capital was managed by himself, with just a little over a million dollars still entrusted to Carl.

"I haven’t been ditching you, Carl. It’s just that, compared to gaming, I think you need this even more."

Cain pulled out a few textbooks—well-used, with his handwritten notes scribbled across the pages. They weren’t specifically prepared for Carl; it was just that Cain happened to have them with him today.

"Carl, once you finish reading these, you should be set for any exam at school."

Carl flipped through one, and the dense notes made his head spin. The only thing that could ever make him sit down and read seriously was a Wall Street financial report.

"Cain, my goal isn’t Columbia. This stuff..."

"What? You mean you don’t need this? Carl, look at these notes, then look at me. How long do you think it took me to prepare this for you!?"

Cain spoke up righteously, launching a relentless assault on Carl’s sense of guilt before he could protest.

"Come on, you know me. If I tried to get through all this, I’d end up in the ICU," Carl apologized, feeling genuinely guilty after seeing the effort Cain had put into the notes, yet unable to accept the gesture.

"Forget it, maybe I didn’t think this through. It’s not your fault. But listen, Carl, there’s something I need your help with..."

Seizing the opportunity, Cain brought up his request before Carl could recover. Apart from his keen sense for the stock market, Carl was slow on the uptake in just about everything else. To still be a virgin in senior year of high school, only Carl could manage that.

"No problem, if it’s something I can do, I won’t refuse," Carl agreed without hesitation.

His father’s connections were wide, certainly better than the downtrodden Pent family’s, and Cain had plenty to keep him busy. Having Carl run errands was a much better use of his time than letting him waste it on video games.

"I need to rent a warehouse with good security, and help me find a reliable supermarket supplier—I might need one soon."

Cain had no idea what kind of world the next transaction would take him to, but all he had to offer for now were daily necessities, medical supplies, and weapons. He couldn’t yet provide weapons on a large scale, so he could only hope the first transaction would go smoothly.

Carl looked at him quizzically. "You’re opening a supermarket, man? That’s not a great move. Are you disbanding the Wall Street Lightning Team...?"

"I have other plans for it, Carl. Just help me out, and I’ll be in touch. And that Lightning Team you talk about never existed. I’ve never joined any group, especially not one with a weird name like that."

With that, it was nearly time for class, and Cain ended the conversation.

Cain enjoyed the most freedom in school—so long as he didn’t disturb others or break American laws, no one bothered him. His grades guaranteed his place at Columbia, so there was no need for him to relearn things he’d already mastered.

He even decided to ask his teacher for an extended leave, so he wouldn’t waste any more time at school these days.

Thinking it over, he realized he still knew too little. But if he spent four or five years learning before making use of the trading system at the peak of his life, he doubted he could wait that long. It was like telling a gamer to hone his skills before joining a brand-new server—completely unrealistic, because the temptation was too great.

A few days later, Cain arrived early at another residence set up for transactions. Though there were plenty of buildings here, few people actually lived in them; his parents had bought the place but seldom visited.

That evening, Cain spotted a small truck pulling up to his house. After the driver blinked the headlights three times, Cain opened the garage, letting the gun shop owner drive in.

"Everything you wanted is here—ammo on the outside, guns and rocket launchers inside. Once I leave, I’ll never admit I sold you any of this."

The gun shop owner helped Cain unload the crates of ammo, opening them one by one for inspection. Once he was satisfied, Cain climbed into the truck to check the weapons.

The handguns, rifles, and submachine guns were all in perfect condition, their mechanisms crisp. Cain had handled guns for years and could tell these were brand new. As for the rocket launcher, he’d never seen one before, but still picked it up to examine it.

"All good, boss. A pleasure doing business."

Cain went back inside to fetch the remaining payment, handed it over, and said, "Boss, next time, I hope you’ll give me a good discount. I’m looking at this as a long-term arrangement."

Cain had no choice but to buy arms from these people in the beginning. Once his influence grew, he might go straight to Stark Industries for his purchases.

"Call me George. Next time, I promise you a fair price—I’d never cheat a regular customer."

Once he’d confirmed the payment, George drove away, planning to take a month off after this deal—at least until he was sure Cain hadn’t gone crazy, before reopening his shop.

After he left, Cain packed the sorted ammunition and weapons into the system’s spatial backpack. Before doing so, he loaded every magazine, including the rocket launcher.

"Pretty handy..."

He tested withdrawing a firearm from the spatial backpack and materializing it in his room—it happened in an instant, giving him the element of surprise.

"Now, it’s time to have the system search for the first trading world."

With his weapons ready, the house had served its purpose. Cain drove back to his main residence, which was much safer than the previous place.

"System, search for a trading world."

At his command, the system interface clouded over, then countless stars flashed by, until a single, dazzling point of light appeared. Cain quickly tapped it, and the system displayed scenes from this world.

People in thick, multi-pocketed green vests fought fiercely on a battlefield—not with firearms, but by performing hand signs to release torrents of water, fire, wind, and lightning. There were four-pointed throwing stars and bladed kunai with strips of cloth tied to them.

Beyond the battlefield, Cain caught glimpses of daily life: civilians shopping for supplies, merchants feasting and laughing in taverns, discussing business.

"This is... the world of the ninja."