Trial Crystals for class advancement were universal, making them relatively accessible if one was willing to pay the price. However, Skill Crystals were an entirely different matter.

  Once an adventurer reached the Class-rank, only the foolish or the desperate would settle for a skill that didn't align with their specific path. After all, what use was a raw Strength-buff to a Mage? Or imagine a Berserker suddenly trying to chant a Fireball mid-frenzy—it would be a farce. This demand for compatibility was exactly why Blood Wolf considered Skill Crystals to be so vanishingly rare.

  "If you're willing to wait," Kael said evenly, "I might eventually have a Skill Crystal that fits your needs."

  "Really?" A flash of hope lit up Blood Wolf's face.

  "Probably. I just can't tell you exactly when," Kael replied, glancing toward the skill stones on the shelf.

  He didn't believe the system only possessed those three specific stones. He was certain that as long as he kept pulling from the supply channels, a dedicated Skill Stone category would eventually appear. Mentioning it now was simply a way to lock in a high-value customer; after all, Skill Stones were significantly more expensive than pills or standard gear.

  "That's enough for me. I’ll wait on your word, Boss," Blood Wolf laughed heartily. Without a massive organization backing them, most freelancers found their class-specific skills through pure luck. The alternative was using "Universal Skills," but those often diluted the unique strengths of a specialized class.

  "If everyone’s done picking, report your totals. It’s time to settle up," Blood Wolf shouted as his last teammate stepped away from the racks.

  "No need. I’ve kept track," Kael interjected. He wasn't worried about anyone being dishonest—the System was far more meticulous about Spirit Crystals than he was. Cheating the System was a fool's errand. "The total is 42,920 Spirit Crystals, including that Holy Knight Sword in your hand."

  "Done." Blood Wolf didn't even pause to do the math. He trusted Kael—partly because someone selling this level of gear had no reason to nickel-and-dime him.

  He dropped a heavy sack of monster cores on the counter and took his leave. Watching the sea of mercenaries depart, Kael let out a small, satisfied chuckle.

  "Good business."

  If things continued like this, Qin Ming would likely be back in a few days to restock the army. That would be the real windfall.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "Shier, where did you put that roast leg of lamb Zi’er brought by?"

  "Ah! Manager! I left it on the counter in the shop next door!" Shier snapped out of her daze, startled by Kael's sudden question.

  The beast tide seemed to follow a rhythm: one massive assault per day.

  As night fell, the wounded were ferried back into Cloud Mist City. In a siege, the defenders held the logistical edge. The City Guard began pitching tents and lighting campfires, eating in shifts. Scouts were deployed to the edge of the forest to monitor the treeline. On this battlefield, no one dared to remove their armor, even while resting, for fear of a midnight raid.

  Technically, the City Guard could have stayed behind the walls, but the horde contained several species capable of battering down fortifications. If those behemoths reached the gates, the city would fall in hours. Holding the line outside was a grim necessity.

  "I wonder how many more of them are out there," Qin Ming mused, reviewing the casualty reports. Soldiers weren't machines; if this became a war of attrition, he would need to pivot his strategy.

  After a long silence, he realized the room had gone quiet. The briefing was over.

  "Track the consumption rate of the pills and the durability loss of the gear," Qin Ming ordered, tapping the desk.

  War was, fundamentally, a battle of resources. Spirit Crystals were being poured out like water. The speed at which Kael's shop absorbed capital was terrifying, though the influx of monster cores from the front lines helped cushion the blow to the city’s treasury.

  Deep within the Cloud Mist Forest, Orc Encampment.

  Inside Naga’s command tent, several sets of bloodstained armor lay on a table—trophies stripped from the fallen City Guards. Shaman Naro and Naga stood by as the tribal blacksmiths conducted a rigorous inspection.

  Finally, the lead blacksmith set down a breastplate and bowed. "Chieftain Naga, Shaman Naro... we have finished our examination."

  "And?" Naga asked, his voice booming with authority.

  The blacksmith tapped the metal, listening to the solid, resonant thud. "The quality is... unparalleled. Both the materials and the forging techniques are beyond anything we've seen. I estimate it would take a Brave-rank offensive monster to puncture this quickly. Low-level beasts will do nothing but scratch the surface."

  He hesitated, wanting to ask who could have possibly crafted such masterpieces, but the look on Naga's face silenced him.

  "You were right, Shaman Naro. Your eyes are as sharp as they say," Naga admitted. Naro had deduced the change in the humans' strength just by observing the battlefield for a few minutes. "Can our forges replicate this?"

  "I apologize, Shaman," the blacksmith replied with a shake of his head. "Even if we had the materials, the methodology is a total mystery. We cannot forge this. We can only admire it."

  "It doesn't matter," Naro waved him off.

  "One more thing," the blacksmith added. "The weapons found with the armor... they carry the same signature. The craftsmanship is equally flawless."

  Naga’s brow furrowed. It wasn't just the protection—their lethality had been upgraded too. Where are these humans getting such high-grade steel?

  Naga sighed heavily. "It seems we have no choice. I wanted to save the surprise for the end, but we’ll have to play our hand early."

  He looked toward the dark treeline, his eyes narrowing.

  "But first... we must find the one supplying these weapons."