As the world stirred, the hulking cogs of war machines shook, overcoming static friction and beginning to roll wearily.

It didn't take long at all for Weaving Fate to realize her mistake.

“Brother Lionheart, I was so wrong … and you were right. These scrolls are so valuable that the various guilds will be stockpiling them now. It's so smart of you to have mentioned priority for bringing you one. Still, you might have trouble getting 20 in a day, and their price will soon skyrocket …”

“Mhm, I know. We will try to buy as many as we can with the money I make today. Worse comes to worst, I'll use Scrolls of Threat and rely on Toothy. Did you judge the mood of the market yet?”

“Only Superficially. Preliminary review indicates 35-40 gold per slot. I'd recommend an initial buyout of 20 gold for scroll holders, though it will probably drop to 10 or below by the end of the day.”

“That much? Wow …”

“Haha! It's all your charisma, brother Lionheart! Your guarantees appear so solid, that everyone trusts you will not trip up. Even if competition springs up, you should still be strongly preferred. You're just that attractive for business.”

“Oof, no pressure …”

“Of course, take it at a comfortable pace. Now I have to go, I'm sorry. A new vice guild leader has been appointed, and I need to bring her up to speed.”

“Who's that?”

“An old rival of mine … I … never liked her …”

“Keep up the good work, and don't let her get to you.”

Weaving Fate was likely meant to replace Radiant Bulwark originally, but her ties with Carl had now put her in a precarious position.

Disconnecting the call, Carl got ready to face the horrid wolf once more. This time he only took a good mana potion and a common stamina potion, which cost 5 gold together, instead of 25. This was also the quality that Skyborne Lions agreed to supply for their five runs – Carl couldn't afford his own supplies at the moment, and Radiant Bulwark couldn't help him with that, either, as he and his loyal subordinates had to relinquish the guild assets they wielded. They were now indebted for all the non-recoverable money invested in them, and in the process of settling up.

“Oh, that poor guy looks so ridiculous!”

The jolly Theodore was now wearing a magically enhanced fine quality monocle eye-patch, another tracking device missed by the elven enchantress – the system assist for NPCs really was a blessing for anyone they got employed by. As the lisping huntsman simultaneously used his monocular telescope on the other eye and spoke, the effect was hilarious.

“Found them, Master Lionheart!”

“Hmm? Aren't we closer to the portal than before?”

“We are, Master Lionheart!” Toothy jumped in the air several times, unable to withhold his excitement. Meeting his idol and receiving praise from the illustrious man had put him on a new high, and he couldn't stop smiling.

“Awesome!”

Eager to set another record, Carl sped along the distinct trail. What encouraged him the most, surprisingly, was not the expert level Ripping Claw. It was by far Last Hurrah. For 60 mana per second he could gain additional 5 points of strength, but this was merely the icing on the cake – because the boost to acceleration was incredible! It was just the perfect buff for swift assassination, and with it he could also recover from mistakes much easier.

Jarring Fist!

Carl only smiled internally, because the blitz permitted no time to revel in delight. The horrid jaws shut around the bite sleeve with frightening pressure, but Carl also applied a fair amount of mana current to the Resilient Arm. He felt tremendous strain … but it hardly hurt!

He got shoved back by the collision, which nearly broke his hand, but the Black Fang was on course …

Vicious Hook!

This skill was definitely much safer for striking bone. Longitudinal stress was what fangs were designed for, after all, and lateral impacts is what usually busted teeth, so Carl didn't want to gamble with Ripping Claw if he didn't have to. But if the blade was already sunken in the enemy, then …

Ripping Claw!

Ripping Claw!

Ripping Claw!

… And it was done. Just like that, the evolved boss died instantly, having its cranium demolished from the inside. Carl still had a minute and 15 seconds to satisfy his bloodlust …

…

“What the hell? How long has it been?”

“20 minutes …”

“Is he seriously doping with stamina potions?!”

“They'll exhaust him, won't they?”

“Heh, wouldn't you be excited if you had an opportunity like that?”

“Yeah, but he should know better. He'll need premium rest soon.”

Carl was very satisfied. There was a big bruise on the arm, but no bleeding. The hardened steel sleeve suffered some major damage, but it would hold for many more runs, so long as it didn't get bit in exactly the same spot, and Radiant Bulwark planned a conquest of a rank 4 wild boars' nest later, for a backup one while the other was being repaired, as there wasn't any of this caliber on the market. Carl was not looking forward to fighting boars at all, even the small ones, for he would surely end up with broken legs in no time, yet the man seemed strangely confident.

There was also the official auction thread, which got posted by Amaranthine Bushido, and it was generating an insane amount of traffic. Although most of the visitors merely wanted to know the details of Camp Redmont quest, quite a few tried discussing bulk deals in order to circumvent the auction altogether, even going as far as offering large amounts of upfront payments.

Still, Carl needed Scrolls of Danger, and those were disappearing at an alarming rate. He could only hope they were bought out in order to be given to him, but he wasn't that naive. On one hand, there would be price gouging, and on the other – resellers would spring into action, patiently hoarding their stockpiles until the value got artificially inflated.

While finishing up the remaining three runs, he was now reluctantly considering to expand his repertoire by ghost hunts in the imminent future, despite the ancient dig site, a new dungeon unlocked by conquering the haunted battlefield, being nowhere near as tempting to gatherers as Camp Redmont. There was no going around this problem – Scrolls of Threat would undoubtedly make Toothy work for it, extending the runs to unacceptable lengths.

The third conquest was smooth sailing all the way through, on the fourth one the horrid wolf didn't bite at first, but Ripping Claw protected Carl until it did, and on the fifth one the radius in his right forearm broke from the tension. Ignoring it, Carl instakilled the boss and let Ripping Claw dance, inflicting gaping wounds on the surrounding prowlers, slaying some and scaring the rest away. He was now even with the Skyborne Lions.

Meanwhile, the first round of auctioning was underway …

“What?! Only one slot is available?!”

“Three suckers actually sold their Scrolls of Danger for 20 gold? Possibly less?”

“Yeah, how much do they think they can make in Camp Redmonth in a day? Obviously the ledgers won't be easy to find. Amateurs.”

The consensus was that a slot would end up going for up to 40 gold, that included a rank 5 reward worth around 25 gold, and approximately 15 gold of markup, which would have to be recovered with substantial interest from the unlocked dungeon before the whole deal could become profitable for the bidders. Therefore, selling the precious Scrolls of Danger for a priority buyout at this time – that is paying 20 gold and handing a single scroll over to get a guaranteed spot before the auction started – seemed like wasteful impatience, as they could potentially double in value within a single day, if not better.

“30 gold!”

“Hmm? The Highlanders are the first to bid?”

“First to bid, first to quit. Watch them cry again once the price goes up, hehe.”

“Oh, if it isn't the eminent Zodiac! Do you have a better offer, or are you all talk?”

“Sure we do, we're not as cheap as you beggars. 35 gold!”

“35 gold once!”

“35 gold twice!”

“40 gold!”

“Who is this guy? Why can't I see his affiliation?”

“Haha! Oh boy, it's Hivemind! The Blood Brothers' coalition forces!”

“40 gold once!”

“Poor Blood Oath can't let it go … good for him!”

“Wait, are they allowed to bid, then?”

“40 gold twice!”

“Looks like it.”

“Yeah, it's humiliating enough for them to sponsor Lionheart, let them bid!”

“Mhm, and it seems they've won. Not much point going over 40 gold.”

“50 gold!

“What the … who's this?!”

“Her avatar's appearance … is she Asian?”

“50 gold once!”

“Damn Asians are at it again! For crying out loud!”

“Hold your tongue. She's not just any Asian, she's Chinese …”

“Oh great …”

“50 gold twice!”

“55 gold!”

“Huh?!”

“Another Asian chick … we can just go home, boys, resume our meager adventures …”

“60 gold!”

“Whoa, whoa, what are they doing?!”

“Looks like it's China vs India again. Nothing for us here but eat some popcorn.”

“65 gold!”

“Unbelievable …”

“Hehe, check this out, guys … I have a Scroll of Danger! I want to buy out a slot!”

“65 gold once!”

“The buyouts are closed now, you moron! Should have thought about it sooner.”

“Haha, they'll surely be increased for the next round! Probably to 40 gold or better!”

“These blasted–”

“70 gold!”

“… Asians!”

…

“Err … brother Lionheart, we have a big problem … well, not really a problem, but …”

“What is it? Just spit it out.”

“How far out are you?”

“Almost there.”

“Good … you better handle this yourself …”

Carl was nonplussed. What could it be? Did Blood Brothers interfere with the auction?

Arriving in the expedition hall, he could already feel the commotion going on downstairs on the temple plaza. It wasn't loud, not like the regular order of business at all, but it was an eerie murmur instead, so pervading that it felt like it was coming form inside his head. Within this weird background noise, he could hear two fervent females bicker.

“180! Knock it off, you tramp! Trying to beguile this noble man? Dream on!”

“185! Haha! You think you're so pure and virtuous yourself, yet all you want is to steal him away from us!”

“190! Sure I do! You don't deserve him!”

“195! You're so full of it!”

“What … in … the world … ?!”

“200! Eat dirt you filthy commie!”

The spectacle was truly jaw-dropping. The helpless Amaranthine Bushido stood at the edge of the platform, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time, two fantastically clothed women squabbled on the steps, their luxurious apparel in vivid colors merely a lifestyle option to represent status, and tens of thousands of gawkers watched on in wonderment.

Almost nobody noticed the blood-soaked warrior as he approached the swordsman, everyone so focused on the two beauties lavishing their boundless wealth – or that of their guilds, rather. This was way beyond reason …

“I – am Charles Lionheart, and I am not for sale!!!”

It was like a thundering bolt from the blue sky. It instantly silenced both the women, and most impressively – the entire crowd, ceasing the unbecoming whispers.

“You, who just bid 200, ready your party member. But do not think you can buy my graces with your generosity!”

“Brother Lionheart! I am–”

“I said no!” Carl admonished powerfully in his mighty voice, subduing everyone once more. “You are both excluded from future auctions, together with your forces! Now gather up, the first four!”

While the angered hero had his forearm mended and supplies restocked, the astonished mob was still reeling back in dread and awe.

What a legend!