A silver-haired girl who looked like an exquisite doll, about eleven or twelve years old with a bit of baby fat on her face, was welcoming the newly entered Fati with a standard professional smile.
Before she could finish the welcome she had repeated countless times, her cute brows furrowed slightly, and her gaze accurately locked onto the bleeding bandage on Fati’s left arm.
Instantly, her tone changed:
“It seems…
you are in need of treatment.”
Seeing the girl frown and stare at the blood-soaked bandage on his left arm, Fati spread his hands and shrugged.
“As you can see, I’m not in very good shape.”
The silver-haired girl—the primary school version of Airmid Teasanare—stepped quickly to Fati, carefully supporting his injured arm to examine it, and said with certainty:
“The injury isn’t serious; it didn’t hit the bone, it’s just a flesh wound.
You’re lucky.”
Glancing down at his battered arm, Fati said with a sigh of relief:
“Yeah, that’s thanks to the gauntlets.”
Amide nodded thoughtfully:
“Armor, I see.
It must have been caused by War Shadow claws.”
Although it was phrased as a question, her tone carried an unquestionable certainty.
Clearly, this future ‘Saint of the Battlefield’ was no ivory-tower scholar; her medical Experience was quite extensive.
“That’s right, it was a War Shadow,” Fati admitted.
Amide kept a straight face and looked up at Fati seriously:
“Well then, based on this injury, I can offer you three treatment plans…”
“…”
As soon as she spoke, alarm bells rang in Fati’s head.
Sensing trouble, he hurriedly interrupted the girl’s pitch.
“The cheapest one!”
At those words, a flicker of disappointment crossed Amide’s small face.
It seemed her sales techniques still needed refinement.
After all, if she could use her magic combined with top-tier potions for a perfect treatment, the profit from this single order could easily exceed a million Valis…
“What a pity…” she muttered softly.
“…”
Fati’s eye twitched.
So young and already so calculating—what would she be like in the future?
…Half an hour later.
The wound had been treated with new medicine and properly re-bandaged by a professional.
After firmly resisting the expensive ‘panacea’ that Amide had tried so hard to sell him, Fati practically fled out the gates of the Dianket Treatment Center, nearly penniless.
‘Damn you, Dian Cecht!
Look at what you’ve been filling the head of the lovely Silver Saintess with!
You damned vampire!’ Fati roared inwardly.
The War Shadow danced, and a day’s work was gone.
Today, he had originally earned a record-breaking 6,700 Valis, which was nearly two and a half days’ worth of income for him.
In the end, Amide had fleeced him for 5,000 Valis!
“Fortunately, it’s just a minor injury.
Adventurers have sturdy bodies, but even so, it’ll take three days to fully recover.”
He flexed his bandaged left arm, acknowledging Amide’s professional skill.
“Actually, I’ll take a few days off to review and optimize my new combat patterns.
Real combat has exposed quite a few issues.”
He pondered as he made his way home.
“Thump—”
Suddenly, his shoulder collided with someone else wrapped in a hooded cloak.
Fati snapped out of his thoughts and looked sideways.
He saw the other person acting sneaky and hurried, their behavior highly suspicious.
“Damn it, watch where you’re going!” The person didn’t stop, tossing back a low curse before quickly turning into a nearby alley.
“?”
Fati’s face darkened.
Being cursed at for no reason left him a bit stunned.
Sure, he was spacing out, but the other guy was walking with his head down too.
This was clearly a shared responsibility.
“Idiot.”
He shook his head, putting the unpleasant encounter behind him.
“What’s this?”
As he stepped forward, he felt himself tread on something.
“A stick?
Did that guy drop it?” He bent down to pick it up.
“Whoa, did he drop some loot?”
It felt cool to the touch, and a strange chilling sensation traveled up his fingertips, faintly resonating with the magic power inside his body.
‘Resonating with magic power?
This is…’
Fati narrowed his eyes, his heart tightening.
He quickly scanned his surroundings, and after confirming no one was watching, he immediately tucked the item into his cloak and quickened his pace to leave the scene…
back to his base.
Fati organized his damaged gear, preparing to send it for repairs tomorrow.
After a refreshing hot bath and changing into clean clothes, he sat at his desk to examine tonight’s haul.
Three ‘war shadow finger blades’—he’d dispose of them tomorrow; they were worth 150,000 Valis.
One ‘Anti-Magic War Shadow Finger Blade,’ dropped by a Special Individual.
He needed to consult a professional about this; what if it was important?
All three tasks could be handled in one trip.
Then there were the items from the treasure chest.
A black envelope sealed with bright red wax and stamped with a Familia crest.
[Name]: kinship invitation letter
[Origin]: System
[Type]: Contract Scroll
[Effect]: Invites a destined person to join the Familia; a contract is formed upon agreement.
[Description]: A black envelope sealed with wax, containing a yellowed parchment contract.
Issued according to the user’s subconscious preferences.
…”Now this is a pleasant surprise!”
For Fati, the most important thing right now was to develop steadily and quickly to increase his ability to withstand future shocks.
And for development, ‘Money’ and ‘Experience’ were hurdles he couldn’t avoid.
He was confident he could accumulate ‘Experience’ quickly thanks to the advantages of his magic, but ‘Money’…
with his tragic luck stat, dreaming of getting rich overnight through ‘dropped items’ was just a fantasy.
He could only survive on the basic income from magic stones.
Plus, without a Supporter to handle logistics, he wasted most of his day clearing the battlefield.
If he had a trustworthy Familia teammate, these problems would be easily solved.
Holding a corner of the envelope and following the system’s instructions, he prayed silently in his heart:
‘I hope to recruit a [Vanguard], someone who can hold the line.
It would be best if they have support abilities too.
I don’t need to say anything else!’
He repeated it three times in his mind.
The black envelope in his hand began to burn from one corner, turning into ashes and vanishing within a few breaths.
“Next is the wait.
The instructions say it takes about three days for a response.” Fati looked forward to the newcomer and turned his gaze to the other item from the treasure chest.
“A double drop.
What is this?
A reward for passing the trial?”
[Name]: “Manufacturing Guide: Scholars Staff”
[Origin]: System
[Type]: Blueprint Recipe
[Effect]: Magic amplification, mental stability, doubles as a weapon.
[Description]: A two-handed staff.
The design template comes from the ‘Soul-Eating Staff.’ After modification, the shaft is engraved with runes and a magic gem is added to the head, enhancing its performance.
Because its shape resembles a fried dough twist, it is affectionately called the ‘Twist Staff,’ an excellent staff.
This was a design drawing for a staff, detailing the materials, craftsmanship, and design.
As long as one had the corresponding technology and materials, it could be crafted according to the blueprint.
Of course, as a weapon for a Mage, financial resources were essential.
Scanning the dense list of rare materials, Fati’s expression shifted, and his eyes lost focus.
“Leveling up costs money, supplies cost money, equipment costs money—everything costs money.”
“Not to mention Mage gear.
My head hurts.”
He flopped down.
“Sigh…”
“Time to sleep.
I have to go to the Second District tomorrow.”
He collapsed onto the bed and checked his gains for the day on the panel before closing his eyes and falling into a baby-like sleep.
[ability values]:
Magic: F389 → E411 (E489)
What he didn’t notice was…
[Level]: Lv.1+, the number in the column was flashing slowly like a breathing light, and an orange plus sign appeared there…
West Street, District Seven.
Not far from the intersection of West Street and Northwest Street, in the basement of a remote large mansion.
Flickering torches cast swaying shadows on the cold, damp walls and floor, dancing uneasily with the light.
“It’s about time.” A man sitting on a wooden crate spoke in a low voice.
From under the shadow of his hood, a pair of sinister eyes scanned the black-robed subordinates gathered before him.
“The ‘goods’ sent from over there, have they all arrived?”
“Chief, the entire shipment is here,” a subordinate replied respectfully.
“We split into five routes and transferred them here in three batches.
We definitely didn’t leave a trail.
The attention of the Order Familias is currently drawn to the Dungeon, and the number and frequency of patrols in the city have dropped significantly.”
The man called Chief stared sharply at his subordinate from under his hood.
“Well done.
This is thanks to Emperor of Slaughter’s scheme.” His voice carried a hint of subtle praise.
“Stirring up trouble in the Dungeon as a diversion to coordinate with this pickup.
Otherwise, with Orario’s current state of alert, getting this stuff in…
humph.”
At this point, he paused.
His tone suddenly turned cold, filled with deep wariness:
“This stuff is super contraband.
If those single-minded lunatics found out we were smuggling this, it wouldn’t just be a matter of killing a few people!”
“Chief, is it really…
that serious?” another subordinate couldn’t help but ask in a low voice.
“Shut up!” the Chief barked, his gaze under the hood as sharp as a blade.
“We just need to do our job for those above us and know nothing else—unless you want to vanish without a sound tomorrow.”
The subordinate who asked the question trembled, his face under the hood instantly filled with terror.
If Fati were here, he would surely recognize that one of the voices belonged to the suspicious figure who had bumped into him on the street and dropped the ‘loot.’ And what he had picked up was exactly the rare item these people claimed could bring about total destruction.