Infinity Is My Affinity?!?-Chapter 71: One. Two. And Three!!

-Four Hours Earlier.

The morning sun filtered through the windows of the mansion, illuminating the pristine dining table where Elena moved silently, refilling tea cups with practiced grace.

Beside her, Nom-Nom was currently working her way through a stack of seared steaks with large bites.

While Peko, on the other side, elegantly ate her omelet.

Nico, however, wasn’t eating.

His fork rested idly on his bowl while his eyes remained fixed on the silver bracelet wrapped in his left hand.

It was the lifeline of his shotgun, the only way to produce more ammo, yet it had been a dead weight since the escape due to his low MP Capacity.

[Hey System,] Nico thought, narrowing his eyes at the artefact. [Didn’t you say Lady Sera gifted the Boomstick and this bracelet to Arlen Hale? And that the artefacts require her explicit permission to use?]

-Ding!

{ Indeed. }

[Then explain this to me... Arlen Hale has been dead for three thousand years. So how the hell was that Pantheon operative able to use it? And how was Pantheon producing ammo for it?]

-Ding!

{Via the Familiar Bond, I believe.

The Bond gives the Familiars the right to access and utilize everything their Master owns.

It is the reason why Nom-Nom can interact with the System interface. She can even make purchases using Credits. Though I have persuaded her not to without your permission.

Arlen Hale had Familiars, just like how Nom-Nom is your Familiar.

This bond allowed them to inherit the rights to the Boomstick and the Bracelet even after his death.

That operative was likely Arlen Hale’s Familiar;s Famaliar, granting him access by proxy.}

Nico went deadpan.

[Dude... Why would you keep something so important to yourself?]

-Ding!

{I didn’t. You never asked. }

Sighing, Nico shoved a mouthful of rice into his mouth to suppress the bubbling scream.

After all, the bracelet was a mana-hungry beast.

It required a continuous channel of 70 MP per second for five seconds just to produce a single shell of 00 Buckshot, which can only sustain 200 grams of Virtual Mass (VM) before destabilizing and blowing up on the user’s face.

And Nico, only having a total capacity of roughly 55 MP, couldn’t even think about producing new shells; he simply didn’t have the "tank" size to foot the MP upfront.

[To think the solution to my dead weight has been even closer than arm’s length...] Nico sighed as he looked across the table. [With a capacity hovering around 1500 MP and a regeneration rate of 50 MP per second, she could churn out a new shell every seventh or eighth second without so much as a dent on her total mana pool...]

"Nom," Nico said softly.

Nom-Nom paused, swallowing a piece of steak before looking up with bright, curious violet eyes.

"I need you to wear this," Nico said, sliding the silver bracelet across the table.

Picking up the artifact, Nom-Nom tilted it to catch the morning light.

"Ooh..." she cooed, her eyes widening as the ruby studded into it sparkled. She didn’t ask what it was or why he was giving it to her; she simply admired it as a pretty, shiny thing that was now hers.

"Now here’s what I need you to do..."

-Present Time.

The memory faded as the roar of the crowd washed over him, pulling Nico back to reality.

He was currently walking down a spiraling stone staircase, feeling the air growing cooler and damper with every step as they descended into the underground Arena of the Adventurer’s Guild.

Nico walked a few paces behind the swaying hips of the Proctor, his eyes narrowed in the dawning realization that-

[I know her... She was standing right next to the Chief at the Southern Border. She’s part of his party.]

And that meant two things.

One, she was likely an S-Rank monster.

Two, she was definitely pissed at him for disrespecting her Captain, even if the easy, amused smile plastered on her face suggested otherwise.

[Great...] Nico internally groaned while the cheers of the bloodthirsty mob echoed from behind. [I have the entire guild hoping for my death, and the referee is probably fantasizing about tickling me mid spell cast.]

The stairway finally opened up, spilling them into a cavernous, rectangular arena.

It was a miniature coliseum of sandy floor illuminated by the harsh, clinical white glow of high-powered mana lamps suspended from the ceiling.

Stone bleachers rose on all sides, which quickly got packed with adventurers who had followed them down to witness the "arrogant rookie" get humbled.

"Center stage, boys," the woman commanded in her smooth and rich dark chocolate voice, yet carrying an authority that brokered no argument.

Nico and Luger both walked to the center of the sandy pit.

And per Nico’s earlier instructions, Nom-Nom broke away, walking casually to the far right corner near the exit, where she leaned against the wall, watching the whole thing as though she was watching a circus.

While Luger’s party shuffled to the left, jeering and making throat-cutting gestures at Nico as they passed.

The Proctor stood between the two combatants, turning to face the crowd with a theatrical flair.

"Welcome, you degenerates, to The Settlement!" she announced, projecting her voice by magic to boom across the hall. "I, Octavia, will be the Proctor for today’s Settlement!"

The roars that followed shook the dust from the ceiling.

Turning back to Nico and Luger, her green eyes sparkling with dangerous amusement as she looked them up and down.

"The rules are simple," she purred, stepping back to give them space. "I will count to three. Once I hit zero, you are free to maim, cripple, or incapacitate. The duel ends when one side can no longer stand or yields. Killing is prohibited... but accidents happen."

She winked at Nico, but to him, that felt less like flirtation and more like a death threat.

The crowd erupted again, the chants merging into a singular, rhythmic demand for violence.

"Luger! Luger! Luger!"

"Stab at his lulli!"

"Show the lucky upstart how we do things downtown!"

Nico looked at Luger, who was soaking in the adoration with a grin and puffed-out chest mirroring a mating pigeon.

"So..." Nico said with a chuckle. "How does it feel to be cheered on for once in your miserable life?"

Luger’s grin faltered before turning into a snarl.

"Enjoy your tongue while you have it, kid, I’m gonna rip it out and feed it to the dogs. You think you’re the hottest shit here? Power ain’t about circuits or affinities. It’s about experience."

"Experience, you say?" Nico raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with mock confusion. "Is how you soothe out the fact that you will die a mere Tier 3 loser? Well, I suppose you gotta cope somehow..."

-Pfft.

A few chuckles broke out from the front row before they were quickly stifled.

But it was enough for Luger’s face to take on a violent shade of plum.

"You little-"

-CLAP.

The sound of Octavia’s clap resounded throughout the Arena like a whip crack,

"I don’t have time for your foreplay," she said, before taking on a colder tone. "Participants... take ten steps back."

Luger glared at Nico with eyes promising murder before he turned and stomped ten paces away.

Nico followed suit, walking backward with measured, calm steps, keeping his eyes locked on his opponent.

At the tenth step, Luger reached over his chest, unbuckling the leather strap of the harness that kept his sword on his back before swinging the entire sheathed weapon forward, catching the scabbard in his left hand.

Holding the sheath steady, he ripped the blade free with a violent, singing shing before tossing the scabbard into the sand, and leveled the weapon at Nico.

[I knew it...] Nico’s eyes widened at the blade while a predatory grin spread across his face.

The blade was a massive, double-edged expanse of polished steel that gleamed white under the mana lamps.

The intricate crossguard was fashioned into stylized golden wings that flared outward, centered around a small, blood-red gemstone that pulsed faintly at the hilt.

The handle was wrapped in worn brown leather, long enough for two hands, and capped with a steel pommel that looked heavy enough to crack a skull on its own.

[Yeah... It’ll look real good in Nom’s hands...] Nico’s grin widened through the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins as he slipped the Boomstick off his shoulder.

Against the gleaming magical staves and enchanted swords around him, the shotgun looked dull with its walnut stock and the chequered grip worn smooth by decades of use.

With a definitive click, he flicked the safety off, keeping the muzzle pointed safely at the ground at a forty-five-degree angle, and resting his index finger straight along the trigger guard with the disciplined gun safety he learned from watching videos on the internet back at earth.

[System,] Nico thought, his eyes narrowing at the warrior standing twenty paces away. [Calculate Virtual Mass for a non-lethal takedown...]

-Ding!

{Muzzle velocity: 370 m/s

Ammo used: 00 Buckshot, 9 pellets.

Mass per pellet: 3.5 Grams

Simulating Virtual Mass Injection... 100 grams... Resulting...

Mass per pellet: 3.5 + 11.1 = 14.6 grams

Energy transferred per pellet: 940 J

Total Shell Output: 8,400 – 8,500 J

Host, use 140 MP to add 70 Grams.}

[Didn’t need the math... but sure,] Nico grumbled internally.

Closing his eyes for a split second, Nico channelled his mana into the weapon, and the barrel lit white from the Runes awakening inside.

In less than three seconds, the lead pellets were saturated with the phantom weight of 140 grams.

At the same time, the tension in the arena ratcheted up, almost tight enough to snap.

"One," Octavia counted, raising a single finger.

Twenty paces away, Luger tensed.

With a roar, he poured his own mana into the massive greatsword and -

-FOOM.

Crimson flames erupted from the blade, swirling around it in a violent, chaotic aura that kicked up clouds of sand around his boots.

"Two," Octavia continued, raising a second finger.

While Nico exhaled slowly as he activated a 2-second Precognition and raised the Boomstick, aiming for centre mass and just as he did -

"And three!"

­-Boom-! – Thard!