I wonder where I should burn my money next.
With the task of leading the army handed to Karina, my thoughts drifted back to my ever-growing mountain of wealth—wealth I didn't really need anymore. I leaned back in my chair, letting the reality of my riches wash over me, an absurd idea creeping into my mind: Maybe I should build a palace entirely out of mana crystals. A moment later, I chuckled to myself.
Too much? Nah.
I pulled out a rough ledger and began tallying my daily income. Let's see:
The mana potions—sold at 50 gold a bottle through the Chamber—brought in 450,000 gold daily. Producing 10,000 bottles every day was no small feat, but I had mastered efficiency.
Then, there were the mana crystals. At 400 gold apiece, those raked in a cool 3.6 million gold daily. Not bad, not bad at all.
Now, here's where it got interesting: I'd been converting the mana crystals into magic cores and then trading those for common talent fragments. Each cycle earned me 16 fragments. And sure, if i sell those fragments at 100 and 800 gold guaranteed me 32 fragments per day. It was a foolproof system.
Say your thanks Kirin , I'm a father first and a businessman next.
Just as I was considering what to do with my overflowing wealth, Lucia burst into the room, her face flushed, clutching a crumpled piece of paper.
"My lord!" she practically yelled. "This is ridiculous! Every single plan you've approved adds up to almost 10 million mana crystals in construction requirements. Where in Kesha does anyone even have that many?"
I blinked at her, a bit taken aback by her theatrics. Then, with a calm smile, I pointed at myself. "You're looking at one."
Her jaw dropped. "Huh? But… but, my lord, you don't even—" She stopped mid-sentence, realizing what she was saying. "Ah, my bad, my bad. I'm sorry, Master."
I stared at her, debating whether to feel offended or amused. She had the nerve to question me, but she did call me Master again. In the end, I decided to let it slide.
"With 693,410 mana crystals in my possession," I said, leaning forward, "that should suffice for initial funding, right?"
Lucia stared at me as if I'd sprouted wings. "I… I think I heard that wrong. Did you just say 693,410 mana crystals?"
"Correct."
Her hands trembled. "How many kingdoms did you rob without telling us? Is that why the Virelith Army is invading? Not because we were rude to their envoy?"
I sighed. "Calm down, Lucia. Take a deep breath."
Lucia complied, inhaling deeply—then promptly collapsed onto the floor in a faint.
"Oh boy," I muttered, shaking my head. "I really need to work on her mental fortitude."
Benny, my ever-reliable steward, entered the room with perfect timing. His calm demeanor was almost irritating in situations like this.
"Benny," I said, gesturing toward Lucia, "take her to her chamber and make sure she gets proper rest. And maybe a cold cloth for her forehead. She seems… overwhelmed."
"As you wish, my lord." Benny bowed slightly and lifted Lucia with surprising ease, carrying her out as though she weighed nothing.
No sooner had the door closed behind them than Rem burst into the room, practically vibrating with energy.
"My lord! I have a new proposal!"
"What is it this time?" I asked, pretending not to be intrigued.
"A mana-crystallized castle!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. "As a lord, you need prestige. And what better way than a castle made entirely of mana crystals? Oh, and statues imbued with dragon hearts! Imagine the power, the grandeur!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Statues with dragon hearts? What would those even do?"
"I'll explain later!" she chirped, bouncing on her heels.
The idea intrigued me, but I decided to keep my composure. "Good idea. For now, focus on the castle. We'll revisit the statues later."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Rem practically sprinted out of the room before I could remind her to act more formally in front of her lord.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "I'm magnanimous," I muttered to myself.
But Rem's suggestion sparked something in me. Why stop at a castle? Why not redefine what was possible in this world? Why not make the rarest of legendary items as common as pebbles on a beach?
I pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and began sketching out my grand plan.
---
By nightfall, my office was a mess of papers, diagrams, and half-formed ideas. Benny returned to check on me, a tray of tea and snacks in hand.
"My lord," he said, setting the tray down, "perhaps you should rest."
"Rest?" I scoffed. "I'm revolutionizing the world here, Benny. Did you know that in every fantasy novel, dragon hearts are treated as the ultimate treasure? Rare, powerful, and unattainable. Well, I'm going to change that. In this world, dragon hearts will be as common as bread."
Benny didn't flinch, though I thought I saw a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. "An ambitious goal, my lord."
"Ambitious? Try groundbreaking." I stood, gesturing wildly at my scattered notes. "Dragon hearts, Titan cores, Phoenix feathers—all of it! We'll mass-produce them. Mythical and legendary items will no longer be myths; they'll be commodities. And do you know what that means, Benny?"
"That the economy will collapse?"
I paused, momentarily thrown off. "Well… no, not if we manage it properly."
"Of course, my lord," Benny said with a small bow, though I could hear the faint sarcasm in his tone.
"Think of it!" I continued, undeterred. "Every mage with access to a Titan core, every warrior wielding a blade forged from dragon bone. Imagine the power, the progress! And the best part? I'll still have more wealth than anyone else, so I won't even feel the pinch."
Benny nodded politely, though I could see him suppressing a sigh.
---
After Benny left, I stood silently by the window, my gaze drifting over the familiar contours of my home. It was humble, unassuming—a house that cost a mere 50 gold. Nothing about it spoke of grandeur or wealth, yet I had no desire to change it. In its simplicity lay a charm I cherished, a quiet reminder of where I came from. It wasn't the walls or the roof that made it special; it was the comfort of its memories, the sense of grounding it provided amidst the chaos of my ever-growing city.
The soft glow of lantern light spilled through the streets outside, casting gentle halos on the cobblestones. Laughter and faint chatter carried through the air from the nearby tavern, mingling with the distant hum of crickets. The world felt alive, yet unhurried—a rare moment of peace in a life constantly driven by ambition.
I thought of sitting and eating with the townsfolk. It was to be an ordinary meal, yet it reminded me of something precious. Back in my old world, that's how it worked—eating together, sharing stories, passing bowls around the table. I used to take it for granted, too caught up in my own pursuits, gambling and living recklessly.
But here, in this life, I had rediscovered the simple joy of connection, of being part of something larger than myself.
With a soft sigh, I leaned against the wooden frame of the window, gazing upward. The stars were breathtaking tonight. They spilled across the sky like scattered diamonds on a canvas of deep indigo, their brilliance undimmed by the petty concerns of the world below.
Each one seemed to twinkle with a life of its own, a tiny, eternal beacon in the vastness of the universe. The sight filled me with a quiet awe, a sense of smallness and wonder that I rarely allowed myself to feel.
The breeze was gentle, cool against my skin. It carried the faint scent of grass and earth, a reminder that despite my lofty dreams and endless plans, I was still connected to this world—to its people, its rhythms, its beauty.
Slowly, the weight of the day began to melt away, replaced by a soothing calm. My thoughts grew hazy, drifting like the clouds that occasionally brushed against the moon.
I felt my eyes grow heavy, lulled by the peace of the moment. The stars above shimmered like a lullaby, and the soft rustling of leaves became a whispered melody.
I leaned my head against the window frame, letting the night embrace me. The world faded into a blur of starlight and serenity as I slipped into sleep, the calm breeze wrapping around me like an old, comforting friend.
---