Exclusive Deal (1)

Hoarding.

Scalping and bulk buying had finally reared their ugly heads in the marketplace. Specifically, someone was sweeping every single item out of the food and weapons categories.

I couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

"Man, took them long enough."

Given how much time had passed since the marketplace opened, it was frankly astonishing that mass hoarding had only shown up now. What was even stranger was that whoever was doing it wasn't reselling at marked-up prices, seeing as zero reports had been filed about price-gouging.

What's more, the hoarder wasn't just a single person.

As my point income had surged, the sheer volume of goods listed on the marketplace had expanded exponentially. Instantly buying out every restock the second it refreshed wasn't something an ordinary individual could pull off.

"Even your average noble family couldn't afford this, right?"

It had to be an organized syndicate—or perhaps an entire kingdom—to attempt a cornering of the market on this scale. And thanks to their sweeping monopoly, the gallums were violently thrust back to square one.

Thanks to the marketplace, everyone had been guaranteed at least one decent meal a day, but the monopolistic buyout had severed that lifeline. They had regressed to the dark days of rummaging through hills and fields for edible wild weeds or chewing on gamey demonic beast meat.

"Yeah, this won't do."

I didn't care if people hoarded luxury goods. But cornering food and weapons—the very supplies keeping forum users alive—was a serious threat. Naturally, the gallums began witch-hunting to identify the culprit, one clue at a time...

Before long, the suspects emerged into the light.

Dwarves had been spotted in El-Ladh, casually chewing on the exact marketplace provisions that had vanished from stock. And it wasn't just an odd wanderer or two; dozens of heavily armed dwarves had appeared, organized into what looked distinctly like forward reconnaissance units.

The mass purchasing of food and weapons, combined with dwarven scouts reconnoitering Eladrien...

No matter who looked at it, these were unmistakable omens of war. The elves collectively went into total panic.

The dwarves despised elves. Despised was putting it mildly—they loathed them down to their very marrow.

When an official poll revealed they hated elves almost as much as the demonic beasts threatening continental extinction, that said everything. Elves and dwarves were notorious, legendary blood enemies.

Yet, they hadn't always loathed each other quite so bitterly. Back during their first historical exchange, their relations had actually been rather civil. The dwarves had supplied forged weapons and armor, while the elves traded raw materials from El-Ladh and shared magical knowledge.

Of course, elf social graces were unhinged both then and now. Still, it hadn't quite been enough to completely shatter diplomatic relations. The real problem arose roughly a month into their pact.

After a mere handful of transactions, an elven diplomatic delegation had swaggered into the Dwarf King's throne room brandishing that very parchment.

"What in the blazes is this?"

"Henceforth, the dwarves shall observe the aforementioned terms whenever presenting yourselves in Eladrien."

It was an outright extortionate contract. Watching the envoys hold their noses high in the air, demanding feudal subservience with total smug entitlement, the dwarves were left utterly dumbfounded. Naturally, the ancient Dwarf King arrived at only one logical conclusion.

"Do these pointy-eared bastards think their scrawny necks are forged of tempered steel?"

He promptly opened a grand guillotine gala for the elven delegation.

"Off with their pointy ears and their heads!"

"Eeeek!"

"Hieeeek! Spare this gorgeous, flawless, radiant elf!"

The dwarves converted the elven delegation into a severed delegation on the spot, and that lit the fuse. Thus began the Elf-Dwarf War, which predated even the Great War. Though the apocalyptic eruption of the Great War had eventually forced both sides to pause their vendetta just to survive, with the marketplace restoring basic necessities, it wouldn't be surprising in the slightest if they decided to run it back.

"That's insane."

Learning this history made my blood run cold. A race war while the demonic beasts were still running rampant? That was a one-way ticket to continental suicide. Fortunately, having dwarven forum users on my friend list, I immediately reached out to King Taldain's trusted right-hand commander, Thaldru.

Did he think playing dumb would work when I already caught them red-handed? Anyone could see they were hoarding war supplies, and armed dwarven scout parties had already been spotted in the field. I knew most races despised elves like a continental reflex—whenever something went wrong, you just blamed the pointy-ears.

Still, now was definitely not the time for war.

The dwarves were completely in the dark. In other words, this was yet another piece of baseless forum hysteria blown wildly out of proportion.

Lately, the dwarves had dialed back their forum browsing. Naturally, with no dwarves around to extinguish the rumors, the gallery had been ablaze with doomposting.

The dwarves who belatedly checked the forum were thoroughly bewildered.

Warfare had always been about bluffing. Humans, masters of deceit and bluffing that they were, refused to buy the dwarves' excuses at first. After all, the very archetype of a dwarf was a stubborn, battle-crazed warmonger.

Yet, there was one piece of irrefutable proof that the dwarves were not preparing for war.

Seventy percent of a dwarf's physical body was composed of alcohol. As much as their belligerent nature made them crave battle, if they started an unsanctioned war, I would instantly yank the marketplace offline. Which meant starting a war required being prepared for absolute, involuntary sobriety.

Naturally, the very concept of war hadn't even crossed their minds.

"Then why did they buy everything out?"

The core mystery remained unsolved. If not for war, why hoard so relentlessly?

No matter how charitably one viewed it, stockpiling provisions and weapons looked like war preparations. But the answer arrived soon enough in a single thread.

Demonic beasts had converged upon the Kingdom of Kilgroth. The real problem was their overwhelming numbers.

Dwarven engineering and battle prowess were more than enough to crush one or two waves. However, situated deep beneath a frozen mountain range in dead winter, the kingdom never sallied out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to suppress waves that erupted far from their mountain pass. Unchecked, one wave after another had burst forth, coalescing into an apocalyptic swarm.

"Though compared to the old Great Wall reclamation battle, the numbers out front are actually fewer, aren't they?"

Of course, if that were the only issue, it wouldn't have been a crisis. Dwarves were unmatched masters of choke-point defense, having repelled far larger hordes in the past.

The fatal catch was that another entrance had opened up—deep inside their own territory.

The cluster of rifts tearing open inside their active mine shafts could erupt at any second. They had built their kingdom beneath the mountains so there would only ever be a single choke point for enemies to assault, but that geographic blessing had inverted into a deadly bottleneck.

"So the scouts were actually surveying land to find a site for a new kingdom."

The dwarves were trapped in a desperate siege where they could neither push out nor allow relief in.

They had no room to be picky about taste. While most users sympathized once the full picture came to light, there was no shortage of bitter detractors.

To them, why should they care about the survival of another race when their own stomachs were rumbling? Of course, the solution was straightforward enough on paper.

"I mean, I could just increase the market stock limit."

Except that posed a problem for me. Even if dango served as my primary experience source, I still needed to keep a healthy buffer of Moderator Points. Flooding the market beyond this point meant my point expenditure would vastly outpace my point income. Besides, I couldn't just throw supply volume at the problem every single time a crisis flared up.

"Hmm... war provisions."

Something that could easily stave off hunger in wartime, was highly portable, and had a practically indefinite shelf life. On top of that, it needed to taste reasonably decent, and above all, be dirt-cheap so it could be distributed en masse.

"Does something like that even exist?"

Of course it did.

There was one combat ration I had bought and chewed on until I was sick of it in the military PX, all because of how dirt-cheap it was.

Considering standard individual ration bags were around 30 grams each, it was an insane quantity for an absurdly low price. In practical terms, it was virtually seventy won a bag—a deranged miracle of cost-efficiency.