The Dragon's Staff (★★)

At first, the Dragon's Staff was so plain you could have sworn it was nothing but an ordinary tree branch—the sort of sturdy stick you'd pick up on a mountain trail and nod at, thinking it looked about the same.

Once it had absorbed the light, it began to look a little more like a staff. The grip stretched long and was smoothed to a polish, and the tip crooked and curled in a gnarled shape that called to mind the ancient-tree staves from old games. It still wasn't what anyone would call stylish.

Now it at least looks like a staff?

"Heh heh. The first husk has been shed."

The Magic Tower Lord wore a satisfied smile. For some reason, he looked a little drained.

"Cough."

"Ah—are you all right?"

"Lord of the Tower!"

"This way."

The mages who had brought the materials rushed in to support him. Coughing up blood, out of nowhere.

"I am quite all right. It simply demanded a great deal of mana. It seems even this old carcass is due to retire. Heh heh."

"? Wait, aren't you a Ninth Circle archmage?"

The doubt hit me in the same breath. A Ninth Circle archmage—by level, a mage in the nineties—and he had burned so much mana he'd coughed blood. Could I have done that at level ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠10?

"Did I not tell you the Dragon's Staff is bound by a special barrier? Only one who bears a dragon's mana may undo the seal. The first seal could still be released with a great store of mana, but from the second onward, the task is yours."

"Ahh. So there was a profound meaning to it... You might have said so sooner. I nearly took you for a greedy old miser, blinded by coin and out to fleece me."

"Heh heh heh. What use has an old man for chasing money? It is all for the mages who come after me, and for the Magic Tower."

A swell of feeling rose in me too, but the moment I remembered I'd have to pull thirty-three billion won ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out of my own wallet on the spot, I cooled off considerably.

"Still, isn't thirty-three billion a bit much? You don't have a receipt?"

"Keh-hem. Cough, cough!"

I said it like that, and handed the money over anyway.

"Please take good care of me next time, too. Start gathering the materials from now. I'll be back before you know it."

"Heh heh. A blessing upon the Magic Tower. A blessing."

"You seem a little better already?"

"Cough, cough."

This old man.

Annoying, and yet I was growing fond of him. It was probably because I held the Dragon Words Mage class, but he collected everything he was owed—and gave back just as much as he took. I'd heard that other users couldn't even dream of meeting the Magic Tower Lord, so I knew perfectly well how many privileges I was enjoying.

I hadn't had money for long, but living in a hotel had taught me that much. You get service back in proportion to what you pay. If you're going to solve everything with money, life is easier once you accept that you'll pay more than the thing is worth. Thirty-three billion or three hundred and thirty billion—if it was to make me stronger, I didn't begrudge a single won.

And the thirty-three billion did not betray me.

The moment I made the item public, congratulations poured in without end.

My own mouth fell open. Setting everything else aside, the attack power alone was +55.

I'd dug through the community plenty since starting the game, so I knew. Even at one star, the Dragon's Staff's attack power had already outstripped a level 1 five-star weapon. As a rule of thumb, high attack power at level 1 sat around +15 to +20, and climbing to level 11 didn't send that number leaping in some dramatic bound. Haven Online simply wasn't a game where the gap exploded from level to level. From what had been made public, a level 11 five-star's attack power ran about +30 to +35. The two-star Dragon's Staff in my hands now had to be reckoned roughly equal to a level 41 weapon at four or five stars.

"Heh. Give and take, just as it should be. High risk, high return. A pay-to-win hellscape. I love it."

I was moved. This was what a proper world looked like—a world where the money you spent came back to you in kind. It would fling your wallet open without end and suck it dry like a vacuum, but if it handed over something rare that no one else had, matching what you'd paid, I was perfectly willing to keep that wallet open.

"Everyone. Don't go digging. You'll get hurt. Hurt."

I understood the curiosity about my money, but that was the one thing I couldn't tell them. I'd turned the stream on to enjoy the game in peace and clown around for a little attention—not to announce to the whole neighborhood, the whole world, how much I had and what kind of person I was, and make my life a nuisance.

"All right. Then the real power-up is done. Shall we try a 5-star?"

"I'll take tomorrow off and come back the morning after, at eight. Happens to be a Saturday."

I ended the stream.

The community today was, as ever, mostly talk about Kim Siwoo.

Users grumbling about it always existed, but they never had the firepower. Until not long ago, things stayed a little quiet while a stream was live and only got rowdy once a special topic dropped. Lately, it was loud all the time—especially now, not long after the broadcast had ended. Today the stream had closed on the Dragon's Staff evolving to two stars, and everyone's tongues were itching over an incredible piece of gossip.

People were curious.

Would other five-stars show this kind of overwhelming power too? They looked, but information on five-stars was locked up tight, and they concluded it was simply unknown. Hotter than that was the interest in the item that had actually been revealed.

The options it had now were already good, but the ones still to come were even more anticipated.

Of all of it, talk about the special option was the loudest. Setting good and bad aside, a lot of people simply hadn't understood what the effect actually did.

Thanks to that rather kind explanation, even Kim Siwoo—who had been sitting there thinking, what kind of option is this?—left a comment.