"600 stacks of Glimmer Essence for the Dragonling Shield." "600 stacks of Darkweave Silk for the greatsword." "I'll trade Fire Blast or Repel Fire tomes for the dagger and helmet." Damon and Silas exchanged amused glances—why would a solo player need so many materials?
"600 stacks—my 30,000 men would grind nonstop all day to hit that number," Damon tested, gauging Lucas's reaction. Lucas just smiled, saying nothing—his calm confidence only frustrating Damon more. Glimmer Essence dropped from Level 1 Mana Wyrms (a measly 1% drop rate), and Damon controlled every spawn point of the creatures. Darkweave Silk, harvested from Level 3 Darkweave Spiders, was equally scarce—but Lucas knew both men would move heaven and earth for the Dragonling Shield.
"What do you need the materials for?" Silas asked. "Not your business." "Any discount?" Damon pressed. Lucas shrugged: "I need them urgently." His polite yet unyielding attitude frustrated them. Savannah and Blain had no materials to offer; their guilds were too disorganized.
"I have Repel Fire—trade for the Bull Horn Dagger," Damon said (his top Rogue would double damage with it). "Done." Lucas handed over the dagger. Silas followed: "I have Fire Blast for the helmet." "Done."
"I'll take the greatsword—I have the Glimmer Essence," Damon said, swapping the materials. Silas added: "Give me two days for the Darkweave Silk for the shield?" "Sure—I trust your word." Lucas nodded; a 30,000-man guild leader wouldn't break a promise.
"What about the Hornet Longbow?" Damon asked. Lucas had no use for it—no one could afford Gold, and he had no more materials to trade. Just then, Damon offered: "1,000 Credits. External platform trade." Lucas's eyes lit up—1,000 Credits was a fortune for a Level 4 weapon.
"Deal." They completed the trade on a third-party platform (the game banned in-game Credit exchanges, but trusted platforms existed). The crowd gaped—they'd thought Lucas only wanted Gold. "How much for the staff?" someone shouted. Savannah stepped forward: "We'll buy it!" Lila pleaded: "Please sell it to us!"
A shrill voice cut through: "Just a money-grubber. Name your price—I'll pay." It was Tristan, sneering condescendingly. Lucas frowned in disgust: "Not for sale."
The Acolyte's Staff was a top healer weapon—critical for dungeon bosses. Damon and Silas grinned; Tristan's arrogance had ruined Savannah's chance. "Sell it to me!" they said in unison. Savannah shot Tristan a sharp look, apologizing to Lucas: "I'm sorry for him. He's out of line. We'll pay 5,000 Credits."
Tristan snapped: "Why apologize? He just wants money! 5,000 Credits—sell!" The crowd gasped—5,000 Credits was far over the weapon's value. Damon and Silas paused, watching Lucas.
Tristan flew into a rage, ready to lash out, but Sebastian hauled him away before he could act. Lila stepped forward, her voice trembling with desperation: "Please—we need that staff to clear the dungeon. It's make or break for our team." Lucas smiled faintly, but his tone left no room for negotiation: "Not for sale." As Lila's face crumpled in disappointment, Lucas turned to leave—oblivious that Tristan's fury was curdling into a deadly vendetta.