Money Mancer; I bought my way to godhood

Ribrrip!!

"I stepped on something."

Feeling a strange sensation beneath his shoes, he looked down—his pupils dilated at the sight of what he had stepped on.

A gasp caught in his throat as he instinctively stepped back, nearly stumbling, but caught himself at the last moment.

Ribrrip!!

The creature hopped toward him.

Its body was broad and slimy, clearly resembling a mountain chicken.

Yet, due to the twisted biology of this world—or perhaps the strange garden Richard now stood in—it had more.

Crimson eyes covered its entire body. Not decorative markings, but actual blinking eyes, twitching out of sync and radiating an unnatural sensation.

Richard continued to back away, horror etched across his face.

To him, the "eye-toad" resembled something else—something terrifying.

The many blinking eyes played with his perception, conjuring illusions of dread.

Richard's amygdala was being directly targeted, stimulated to fear the creature.

Just as mice fear cats—while humans do not—his own primal instincts had been hijacked.

He felt like a cornered insect in front of a hungry predator.

"Get back!" he screamed, tearing his gaze away, searching for something—anything—to throw.

"Huh?"

He glanced down at his sweaty hands. The insurmountable fear had almost vanished, leaving behind only a lingering unease.

He turned back to the eye-toad in the distance.

Immediately, the fear surged once more, his breath becoming ragged and slow.

His amygdala screamed:

Natural predator.

Summoning every last ounce of courage, he gritted his teeth and once again forced his gaze away.

Like a dying flame, the fear dwindled—almost to nothing.

"An illusion," he muttered, his face puzzled.

Still unconvinced, he looked at it once more, then quickly turned away.

The same wave of fear returned.

"Huh. An illusion," he repeated, this time with relief.

His first encounter with a magical creature hadn't been his last.

Infuriated by the little monster's power, he stepped forward.

The croaking toad froze mid-hop, seemingly stunned.

The prey it had once cornered was now walking toward it—no, briskly marching toward it.

Each step heavy and deliberate.

Ribrrip!!

The toad feeling the danger tried to change direction, but it was too late.

Richard, eyes tightly shut, had already reached it.

He opened his eyes to get a better view of his soon-to-be soccer ball.

His teeth clenched, brows furrowed with indignation and annoyance.

The fear pulsed through him again, but he didn't stop.

He poised his right leg, ready for the first kick of this strange new life.

Where reason reigns, fear shrinks.

Though still aware of the creature's power, its hold over him had weakened.

Ready, he swung his leg and kicked the magical creature with such force that several of its eyes popped on impact.

It sailed through the air and, with a rustle, vanished into the nearby bushes—its fate unknown.

"Ugh."

He shook his leg vigorously, his face twisted in disgust as he tried to get rid of the eyes sticking to his sneakers.

With the resistance of a viscous liquid, they peeled off—not without leaving behind pungent, red stains. Most likely the eye-toad's blood.

Richard scrunched his nose.

The smell sharp, almost chemical—like ammonia—pungent and stinging.

"I need to get rid of this…"

His eyes darted around, searching for a path toward the stream a few meters ahead.

Finding no clear trail, he opted to push through the thick foliage.

To his dismay, the smell intensified, burning his nostrils and causing his nose to drip and his eyes to water.

"Ugh," he groaned again, wincing as he forced his way through.

Beautiful yet bizarre bugs scattered in a frenzy around him, disturbed by his passage, but he paid them no mind.

His watery gaze was fixed solely on the stream.

With some difficulty, he reached it—a crystal-clear body of water shimmering under the golden sun above.

Numerous peach-colored lily pads floated across the surface, swaying gently with the current of the slow-moving stream.

"Finally," he thought, exhaling in relief.

He stripped off his clothing, including the bloodstained shoe, and without hesitation, jumped into the stream, dunking his head into the waist-level shallow strea.

A refreshing sensation enveloped him, quickly dispelling the stinging in his eyes caused by the pungent smell of the Eye-toad's blood.

"Whew." He raised his head, beads of water trapped in his golden hair. Like diamonds on strings of gold, they sparkled, shimmering with the brilliance of the sun above.

"This is refreshing." He lay comfortably in the pool, gently swaying.

"I really can't hate this. When was the last…"

Ribrrip!!

An awfully familiar sound interrupted his thoughts, he unconsciously turned toward it.

"Not again," he thought, his gaze locking on an Eye-toad—no, numerous Eye-toads—resting on the peach-colored lilies, all curiously staring at the intruder, their passive skill in effect.

A wave of fear, far stronger than what he had felt earlier, washed over him as the crimson eyes—seemingly decorating the creatures—blinked ominously in sync.

"Ahhhhh!" he screamed hysterically.

A primal fear enveloped him, his body tense, failing to respond.

His gaze locked on them, his muscles tight, cold sweat beading around his pores despite the cool sensation of the river.

If not shallow nature of the stream, he would have long drowned—finding himself kneeling unconsciously, his mouth quivering.

This was fear.

Man meeting God.

Fragile before its creator.

Though an illusion, it had the same effect—especially in the mind of an unawakened.

Ribrrip!!

With a splat, one of the toads jumped into the stream.

Richard's flight mode instantly overrode the shutdown response as a rush of adrenaline surged through him, empowering his body to flee from what he believed to be impending danger.

He tore his gaze from them, swimming ungracefully toward the shore.

Despite the lack of eye contact, the fear continued. Though subdued, it was still present—haunting.

"Haah… haah…" he breathed heavily, cold sweat mixing with the dripping water on his body.

One might have looked back to check whether they were still following, but he didn't—knowing exactly what would happen.

The fear had subsided considerably, yet it lingered—not primal, but cautious.

He wouldn't turn, despite the cacophony of sounds behind him—the toads uncharacteristically croaking, seemingly annoyed he had run away… or something else.

Richard, unwilling to know what else it might be, decided to wear his clothes and get out of here.

This place was paradise, but the dangers were too great.

He turned to his clothes—his pupils dilating, reflecting the image of a snake-like creature in the process of swallowing his sneakers.