When soldiers changed their equipment, they rarely paid attention to the style or origin of the gear. As long as it fit and protected them, that was all that mattered.
The Arowana Empire had never mandated that its city-states use standard-issue equipment. They simply deducted the cost of gear directly from the military budget before sending the funds. If a local City Lord wanted to outfit his troops with better steel, he was welcome to do so—out of his own pocket.
Qin Ming knew the Empire wouldn't care about such details. What he didn't expect was that the orcs would notice.
"Shaman Naro, are you certain about this?" Naga furrowed his brow, deep in thought.
"Confirming it is simple. No one has the time or energy to guard every corpse on the battlefield," Naro replied, turning to leave the tent.
Naga stared at the shaman’s retreating back for a long moment before summoning an orc soldier and issuing a quiet command.
War was merciless. Even with superior equipment, the City Guard could only reduce casualties, not eliminate them.
Fortunately, the elite unit Qin Ming had formed survived the onslaught intact. Even those who suffered heavy injuries managed to pull through. The losses were concentrated among the ordinary soldiers, and the number was not insignificant.
Watching from the wall, Qin Ming felt a pang of heartache. Yet, he knew this was the best possible outcome. Without the gear from Kael’s shop, the death toll would have been at least three times higher.
After a grueling battle to repel the beast tide, the survivors celebrated their luck and hurried to rest and reorganize. Soldiers were dispatched to clean up the battlefield.
They had two tasks: retrieve the bodies of fallen comrades for burial, and harvest every single monster core they could find. These cores were the spoils of war—currency that could be directly converted into new equipment.
Qin Ming was incredibly grateful that Kael accepted monster cores as payment. While there was a market for cores, hoarding such a massive quantity would normally be pointless for a single individual. But with Kael, they were as good as gold.
However, amidst the chaos of the cleanup, no one noticed a few City Guard corpses being quietly stolen away from the piles of the dead.
Kael woke up feeling refreshed and full of energy. As expected, staying up all night was fun, but sleeping in was even better.
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He yawned and walked into the front of the shop. It was still bright outside; evidently, it was still early.
"Good afternoon, Manager," Shier greeted him immediately.
"What time is it?" Kael asked, scratching the back of his head.
"3:00 PM, Manager."
Ah, that explains the brightness. Half the afternoon is gone already... I woke up too early. What a loss.
Kael sat behind the counter, leaning back with sleepy eyes, staring blankly out the door. To an observer, he looked like he was deep in thought. Shier stood nearby, also staring into space.
The longer she worked here, the more she realized how leisurely the job was. Aside from being utterly crushed in the Combat Arena after hours, everything about this place was wonderful. Especially the feeling of her own strength growing day by day—it filled her with hope.
"Boss, why are you sitting there dazing out?"
A voice broke the silence. Blood Wolf walked in, followed by members of his squad.
"Welcome! How may I help you?" Shier quickly attended to them.
Kael lazily lifted his head. He saw the dried blood on Blood Wolf’s face and the injuries on the squad members outside. Given their state, it was safe to assume they had run into the beast tide. And since they were still bleeding, they must have run out of pills.
"You brought everyone today? The shop isn't that big," Kael remarked, scanning the crowd outside.
A shadow of grief passed over Blood Wolf’s face, but he quickly shook his head. "Not everyone."
"Some brothers... won't be coming back."
Kael understood. He was silent for a moment before saying, "My condolences."
"Dying on the battlefield is the best end a mercenary can hope for. If we don't want to live mediocre lives, we should at least find some meaning in our final moments," Blood Wolf said, his tone accepting.
When you chose the path of a mercenary, you made peace with death. He wasn't mourning their choice, only feeling the loss of their camaraderie.
"What do you need?" Kael asked after a pause.
"Pills. Armor," Blood Wolf said directly. Then he added, "Oh, and that Holy Knight Sword."
"You changed classes," Kael noted flatly. It wasn't a question; he could see Blood Wolf’s level and stats.
Blood Wolf nodded, not hiding anything. "That's right. Guardian Knight. I want to protect my brothers."
"A noble thought," Kael nodded slightly.
He reached onto the shelf and handed Blood Wolf an Ironclad Pill. It was a Rare-grade pill universally useful for all Knight classes, permanently increasing physical defense.
This was the key difference between pills and armor. Armor only protected the specific body part it covered. Pills, however, toughened the user’s body directly.
"You really know how to do business, Boss," Blood Wolf chuckled.
A Guardian Knight was different from a Heavy Knight. While both were tanks, Heavy Knights relied on their own bodies to absorb damage. Guardian Knights, however, specialized in protecting others—a defensive support class. But making himself tougher certainly wouldn't hurt.
"Just business," Kael replied calmly.
"Fair enough. But honestly, the reason so many of us made it back is thanks to your gear," Blood Wolf said, his tone shifting from teasing to grateful.
Due to the shop's small size, the Blood Wolf Squad entered in shifts to replace their broken equipment and restock on pills.
Watching them cycle through, Kael suddenly spoke up. "You don't have a Class-rank skill yet, do you?"
"Sharp eyes, Boss. Skill Crystals are just too rare," Blood Wolf sighed, his voice tinged with helplessness.
What he really meant was that Skill Crystals suitable for a Guardian Knight were practically non-existent.
