Life in the village had become a whirlwind of activity in recent weeks, so much so that Lancer hardly had a moment to breathe, let alone visit the dungeon. Word of his exceptional metals and weapons had spread far and wide, drawing merchants from across the region. The influx of trade had transformed the once-sleepy village into a bustling hub of commerce.
To keep up with the growing demand, Lancer had built a dedicated weapons shop, a collaborative effort between him and the dwarves. The shop sold everything from raw metals to expertly crafted weapons, each item meticulously ranked based on quality. The ranking system mirrored the one used for adventurers and monsters: F, E, D, C, B, A, AA, S, SS, SSS, and the elusive T-class.
Lancer learned about this ranking system from a particularly talkative merchant who was eager to share his knowledge. T-rank, as the merchant explained, was reserved for the absolute pinnacle of strength and skill in the world, a rank so high that no weapon or monster had yet achieved it. Only the Sephira—the ten strongest individuals alive—held the title of T-class. At their peak stood the Spirit Queen, revered as the most powerful being in existence.
Hearing this, Lancer couldn't help but compare his own work. His weapons were ranked B—a respectable accomplishment, but not quite groundbreaking. The merchant suggested that if Lancer could improve the mana absorption rate of his weapons, their rank might rise even higher. For now, his B-rank weapons were still in high demand, selling at a staggering price of 2 gold coins per bar of metal. Given that one gold coin was equivalent to 1,000 silver coins, the profits were nothing short of extraordinary.
The newfound wealth and popularity brought changes to the village. Once a quiet and unassuming place, it now saw new arrivals every week—adventurers, merchants, blacksmiths, and even curious onlookers. The dwarves worked tirelessly alongside Lancer, but even their combined efforts struggled to meet the ever-growing demand.
Lancer found himself stretched thin, juggling production, customer inquiries, and planning for future expansions. Yet, amid the chaos, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. The village was thriving, and his work had played a pivotal role in its transformation. Even so, a small part of him missed the thrill of exploration and the quiet focus of his dungeon delves.
For now, though, there was no time to dwell on that. Business was booming, and the village was counting on him.
The metals weren't the only things selling like hotcakes. One day, Lancer joined Remus on a hunt in the forest after tasting some meat that resembled beef. He had been curious, suspecting there must be cow-like monsters in this world too. Remus eventually led him to the source—a group of creatures called Tauro Silvestri.
The Tauro Silvestri were massive, far larger than the buffaloes Lancer was familiar with. Their sharp horns gleamed with a metallic toughness, and their hides were thick and resistant, making them formidable beasts. Yet, despite their appearance, they weren't the primary reason Lancer was interested. He didn't just want their meat—he was more intrigued by their potential as livestock.
Using Atomic Collapse, he swiftly defeated a group of them, much to the shock of Kanto and Alastor, who had tagged along. "You defeated B-rank monsters that easily?" Alastor asked, clearly shaken.
Lancer shrugged. "They're big, but they're not exactly fast."
Later, with the system's assistance, he worked on their DNA to neutralize their aggression. It was no small feat, but when he was done, the once-ferocious Tauro Silvestri became docile enough to be herded into a large shed he constructed for them. "Congratulations," Davi quipped. "You've turned monsters into oversized cows."
"Cows that give us milk," Lancer corrected with a grin.
When word spread about the milk, the villagers were skeptical. "We don't really drink milk," Livia explained, wrinkling her nose. "It makes people sick."
"That's because of bacteria," Lancer said.
"Bacter-ria?" Livia asked, frowning.
"It's… uh, small stuff that makes you sick," Lancer explained vaguely, waving it off when her confusion deepened. "The point is, we can fix that by heating the milk. It kills the bacteria and makes it safe to drink."
Gathering the villagers, he demonstrated the process of pasteurizing milk. To prove it worked, he took the first drink, earning gasps from the crowd. Davi took a swig as well. "Not bad at all. Smooth, even."
With Davi's endorsement, the villagers reluctantly followed, and soon enough, milk became a common commodity. But Lancer didn't stop there. He had Livia organize a group of villagers who were skilled at baking. Together, they began producing baked goods using the milk—breads, pastries, and other treats. These items proved to be just as popular as the weapons, drawing in a whole new wave of customers.
"Who knew something so simple could taste this good?" Davi said, munching on a sweet roll.
Lancer smirked. "It's not simple. It's science and skill."
The Tauro Silvestri shed became a staple of the village, housing the now fully domesticated creatures. They produced an incredible amount of milk, more than enough to meet the growing demand.
One afternoon, Livia approached him while supervising the bakery. "I never imagined something like this when I first met you," she said with a soft laugh.
Lancer shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. "Neither did I, but I guess we make a pretty good team."
She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Don't forget—you still owe me a proper explanation about those 'bacter-ria.'"
Lancer groaned, waving her off. "Maybe next time.Now come on, I've got something to show you," Lancer said, gesturing for Livia to follow him.
Livia tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Something to show me?"
"You'll see," Lancer replied with a mischievous grin as he led her behind the bustling cake shop to a smaller workshop he had set up.
Inside, Livia's eyes darted around the room, taking in the strange setup—glass bowls, buckets of milk, sacks of sugar, and containers filled with colorful berries. At the center of the room, a small pile of frosty bowls sat atop a counter.
"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the glass bowl filled with a cold, creamy substance.
Lancer laughed. "It's called ice cream. Well, something close to it."
"Ice cream?" Livia repeated, confused.
"Yeah. I made it by mixing milk with sugar and some of the berries I gathered in the forest—or bought from Ostia. Then, with a little help from Boreas, I froze it into a treat."
He handed her a wooden spoon and motioned for her to try it. Livia hesitated for a moment, then scooped a small bite and placed it in her mouth. Her eyes widened instantly, and she froze mid-motion.
"Is it bad?" Lancer teased, but she didn't respond right away.
Instead, she clutched the spoon, visibly shaking, and exclaimed, "What is this? It's so cold, so sweet, so... perfect!" Her voice rose with each word as if she were about to faint from the delight.
"Relax, it's just ice cream," Lancer said, chuckling.
"Just ice cream?!" she protested, grabbing another spoonful. "Lancer, this isn't just a dessert—it's a masterpiece! You have to teach the others how to make this."
Lancer crossed his arms. "Only if you get more people to work the cake shop. We'll need extra hands if we're going to make enough ice cream to keep up with demand."
"Done!" Livia said immediately, a smear of ice cream on her lip.
Before long, ice cream production was in full swing, rivaling even the success of the cakes. Nobles, merchants, and commoners alike flocked to the village to get their hands on the cold, creamy dessert. The village became more popular than ever, with crowds gathering outside the shops each morning, eagerly waiting for the first batches to be served.
One morning, Lancer barged into Davi's room and yanked the blanket off him.
"Ugh, what's the rush?" Davi groaned, squinting against the morning light. "Do you know how late I was up yesterday?"
"Don't care," Lancer said, pulling him up by the arm. "You're manning the weapons shop today."
"What?" Davi whined, his voice dripping with indignation. "You're kidding, right? I'm not cut out for standing around talking to sweaty adventurers all day."
"It's about time you pulled your own weight around here."
Davi flopped back onto the bed dramatically. "Come on, Lancer. Do I look like a shopkeeper? I'm a free spirit. A wanderer. This whole 'work' thing cramps my style, you know?"
Lancer rolled his eyes and started dragging Davi by the arm. "Too bad. You're doing it. And if you slack off, I'll have Typhon keep you company."
Davi groaned louder but reluctantly stood up. "Fine, fine. But only because I don't want that big mutt shocking me every time I yawn."
"Good. Now get dressed," Lancer said, patting him on the back.
As Davi shuffled off to grumble his way into some proper clothes, he called out, "Where are you going, anyway?"
Lancer glanced over his shoulder. "The capital."
"The capital?" Davi repeated, suddenly more awake. "Oh, great. You're off on some grand adventure while I'm stuck selling pointy sticks."
"You'll live," Lancer replied already heading out the door. "Try not to scare the customers!"
Davi muttered something under his breath, but by the time he looked up, Lancer was already gone.