In nature, even nature overlaid with videogame mechanics, all creatures have a true nature. Birds sing. Dolphins swim. Dragons? Well, dragons have a peculiar thing all their own as well.

Scott yawned loudly just before his eyes cracked open. The various tidbits of his treasure pile shifted in place as he lifted his scaly head. A few Blu-ray discs slid down the pile, only to be stopped by a chair that had been placed seemingly at random. His looting spree left him with quite the haul, but it was nothing of great merit. He earned more resources and loose cash in one night than he might earn in a year working at Archers, but that was just the first step.

Not that the dawn had fully come, he called Ashton and let her know what he was up to at the moment. The ladies would come visit his new lair latter, but for now it was time to do some quick sorting and renovation.

“About an hour, huh?” he asked thoughtfully. He had slept for an hour, but it was natural slumber. He did not go to the dream. For once, he wanted to simply rest like a normal person.

He spent some time sorting his loot into various piles. He would have made the attempt to combine items, but he had yet to recover from his wounds. The lack of life force was quite concerning.

The large roll up gate in the back proved quite useful for hiding his vehicles, and the actual cash income from the raids made him smile in a way that only a dragon might smile.

“Seriously, I made more on that raid than I do for an entire year’s work at Archers.” Scott finished his sorting then looked at his piles.

Fencing the items would prove to be difficult in their base forms, but once his synergy abilities returned that would be no problem. Jewelry would be combined into pure forms. Furniture would become high grade wood materials for further synergy usage.

The rest of the stuff was mostly taken because he did not want the drug dealers to have it. He had even burned down the bar to keep it from being used further. It could be useful, but other than testing purposes there was little that he could do. Individually, he could sell the items at a flea market or something, but the amount of money that would bring in would be far too minor to be of any real use.

“A little over thirty grand in cash… someone’s going to be pissed. Good.” Scott looked at the pile of cash that he had slept on then grinned. There would be more where that came from. There was another concern, however.

On the floor nearby sat a small treasure trove of illegal substances. Meth, marijuana, he was not certain what some of the other things were, but he was certain that they were drugs of some kind.

Perhaps synergy could make something out of it? Scott picked up a bag of meth and looked it over. He had no issue with people choosing to put things into their body. It was what they did afterwards that mattered to him. However, people who make this sort of poison cut it with all manner of things to. There was no way to know what extra incentives and fillers they laced the stuff with in order to increase its weight and sell it for higher prices.

His first instinct was to dump it in the river, but as he was reviewing the thick baggie something strange happened. A message window appeared!

Methamphetamine

A curious alchemical substance designed to increase awareness, bolster the metabolism, sex drive, and to stimulate the mind when used in a small to moderate dosage. This substance is highly addictive. Overuse can lead to psychosis, dental and skeletal deformations, and the potential for violent mood swings.

“Alchemy…” Scott stared at the message screen for a moment. Over time more and more objects were beginning to show information blurbs even if they had no stats, yet. This meant that there was a possibility that the recent changes brought on by the patch might let him combine Earth items without the need for a dream world base.

Briefly, he wondered if he should eat a bit of it to see if it boosted his regeneration speed. There was a long period of time when it was actively prescribed as medicine, but the addictive nature of the stuff mixed with the overuse for recreational purposes led the medical establishment to focus on alternatives.

Scott rubbed his chin. He pulled out his phone and began a bit of research. It did not take long for him to discern the truth. Meth was prescribed legally for a host of issues and was not considered immediately addictive in minor quantities. Though, most recreational users took amounts far higher than recommended. Prolonged use of medical grade Desoxyn was likely to lead to addiction.

“Damn. If I had gone to the doctor for being fat, they might have prescribed me some nice refreshing meth to fight my obesity…” Scott shook his head.

It was possible that it would be useful, but in the end, he decided against it. That bastard who called himself his stepfather was an extreme alcoholic and known to use the stuff. The idea of being anything like that pile of shit did not sit right with him. Not to mention that the last thing the world needed was a tweaked-out dragon running around. The effect probably would not last long on him, or even work at all given his metabolism. Synergy might turn it into an interesting material as well.

The marijuana was not of any great concern to him. Hell, he might even grow it himself for use in finally developing his alchemy skills. Much like the meth, he had no real desire to use or sell the stuff, but it might prove useful in the future. Plus, with alchemy and synergy he might turn it into legitimately helpful medicine. Street drugs often started out as a medical discovery. Hell, cocaine was one of the main ingredients in Coca-Cola for decades. Psychological weirdoes like Sigmund Freud prescribed the stuff to everyone and professed they should use it in general.

Scott fell down the rabbit hole of Internet search discovery for a while as he investigated the history of drugs in the United States. As with most things, someone found a cool new thing then a bunch of people abused the hell out of it to the extent that they ruined it for everyone else.

“Holy shit!” Scott blinked slowly as he read that drug cartels shipped anywhere from five hundred to eight hundred tons of cocaine per year in the nineties. They were still suspected of producing two hundred tons or more per year after a series of raids dismantled the larger organizations and decentralized them into smaller ones.

He looked at the pile of drugs on the floor then back to his phone. His toothsome grin returned. “Road trip?” he asked in a sing-song manner.

In all seriousness, it was tempting. Now, however, he had to do what he could to sort his hometown’s criminal elements and collect his taxes.