Whoa, Selling Beds
"Whoa, they're selling this?"
"50 gold."
It was an outrageous price for the mere use of a single bed. But at the same time, for users in the 300s level range, 50 gold was more than worth it to claim a solid hunting spot. Items dropped by 300-level monsters went for hundreds or even thousands of gold, after all.
There was always the risk of coming up empty-handed, but with no telling what might drop and monsters crawling all over this fresh new hunting ground, it was a smart investment.
"Fifty gold? What kind of daylight robbery is..."
Naturally, the price sounded absurd at first. If it was just for securing a respawn point, it felt iffy. The user who'd approached first scowled fiercely, ready to spit curses, but Vulcan just continued calmly.
"Limited stock, so please decide quickly. After the first 30 spots, it'll be auction only."
Limited quantity. What better way to make someone sweat? Vulcan piled on one more hook.
"Oh, and only bed buyers get access to the consumables shop."
"Consumables too?"
"Hey, if you're not buying, move it!"
"Gimme three spots here!"
"Ten for now. Give us a sec, and our guild'll take the rest."
The area erupted in chaos. Users who grasped the beds' value shoved through the crowd toward Vulcan, sparking a frenzy. Not just respawns, but supplies too? When was the last time an opportunity like this came around?
Even the hesitant ones, worried about the cost, got swept up in the hype. Sure, the consumables might not be top-tier, but stack enough and it'd work out. The ability to restock alone would speed up hunts massively, so everyone scrambled to snag spots.
'What? When did I say they were free? I said I'd sell them.'
'C'mon, it's a win-win, right? Look at 'em throwing money at me—they're doing it for themselves. Heh heh heh!'
Of course, consumables weren't free, and they'd cost more than market price. But buyers still flooded in. No need for Vulcan to sweet-talk them; they were shoving and bickering over spots themselves.
"First batch of 30 sold out! Setting permissions for you folks now—second batch coming right up!"
Thanks to the rush, the initial 30 flew off the shelves. Some guilds tried cutting in line, name-dropping themselves, but Vulcan stuck strictly to first-come, first-served. No point building ties when he was incognito anyway—this minimized future headaches.
"Take a sec."
Permissions set, Vulcan promptly saved his current location in the Book of Space. Then he warped straight to Alter City.
He'd emptied his pockets before arriving, leaving him broke until the 1,500 gold from beds rolled in. Now, time to flip that into more.
"C-grade vendor permits, stamina potions, mana potions, stamina potions again, antidotes, hemostasis potions..."
He snapped up vendor scrolls to summon NPC merchants for bed and consumable sales, then stocked up at a nearby general store. Crafting his own crossed his mind, but time was tight, so off-the-shelf it was—for 300-level users, no less. It dented his wallet, but it'd do for now. Back to Ornis Mountain pronto—can't leave 'em waiting too long or complaints would pile up.
'The Book of Space is straight honey.'
Truth was, anyone could zip between town and here like Vulcan, making his village and beds pointless. But they couldn't. His Book of Space was a rare gem.
Sure, it was called essential for high-levels, but only for rankers. Even the single-spot space runes couldn't be overwritten—if you botched the save, kiss big gold goodbye. Neither book nor rune was cheap or common, so no one rushed to bind this spot.
Vulcan's makeshift village was pure gold because of it.
"He's back!"
"Where'd he pop from?"
"Logged out?"
"Nah, teleport. Space rune? That rare thing?"
"Makes sense—50 gold a bed pays for it. Plenty left unsold too."
Another stir as Vulcan reappeared, but he ignored it and pressed on. Vendor scroll down: NPC merchant hired, stocked with a vendor-exclusive chest.
"Ooh, high-grade potions!"
"Better than expected. Enough stock and potion power could carry hunts."
"Wait, the prices...?"
First-batch buyers swarmed the merchant, checking wares. Satisfaction mixed with shock—prices tripled market rate.
"Problem?"
"N-no. For this distance... call it shipping."
Some glared like he'd mugged them, but Vulcan's bold stare shut them up. In this supply-scarce hellhole, fast restocks justified it. Delivery runners charged 1.5-2x as is—he was just a pricier courier.
'Hate it? Don't buy.'
Their own cash, sure, but fear of revoked bed access had them swallowing hard and paying up. They raced to hoard stock.
"As announced, remaining beds go to auction. Three minutes per spot, starting bid 50 gold. Use this NPC to join!"
Another vendor scroll for auction duties. C-grade scrolls ran 300 gold a pop—insane—but no time to pinch pennies. NPCs saved hours on sales and auctions; a few spots would recoup costs anyway.
'Nah, gotta block 'em first.'
No straight climb yet. With most users glued to the auction, the upper mountain was safer. Instead, he circled, laying stone foundations haphazardly.
Sharp ones had already sniffed it out, recruiting builders or NPCs to shift here. His foundations would cramp that—staking claims to block rivals.
They could smash them, sure, but it'd flag hostility with Vulcan. Worse, every bed user in his village. Village affiliation shared enemy lists—users would scrap it out themselves.
'Temporary village or not, affiliation means shared foes. They'll handle it, right?'
Attack his foundations? Instant enmity with all bed users. They might not hunt you down, but with cause? Game over. Paying premium for privileges meant they'd defend their turf—no stirring needed. New villages? Not on their watch, Vulcan here or not.
'I'll take the compliment!'
So he littered foundations everywhere, locking down prime real estate. Couldn't stop villages elsewhere on the massive mountain, but this hotspot? Safe. Safest spot drew crowds; elsewhere, monster raids could wreck undefended villages. Users would guard, but not 24/7—questless standby crews couldn't handle crises or sudden empties.
Vulcan claimed the best, checked rivals, maxed beds at 100—system cap, preserving scarcity without flooding.
"Looks settled... time for the main event?"
As they sold one every five minutes, Vulcan finally ascended. Some buyers or quitters were climbing, but his goal differed.
"Refraction of Light."
Stealthed via secret society's seal skill, geared up, Dragon Eye active. Located the dungeon with Tud's setup.
"...Huh?"
A glowing dot hit his sight, blanking his face. The entrance wasn't near the peak as expected—totally wrong spot.
"Why the hell is it there...?"
Mountain base, one spot. Ordinary woods hid it—a cave behind a tiny waterfall.
"No, why's something this important down here? Shouldn't it be at the summit?"
Outraged, he grilled Tud—the reply was peak Tud.
"Ah, yeah..."
Ridiculous, but on-brand. Everyone fixated summit-ward, ignoring base pond and falls—prank landed perfectly. Vulcan's village (bonus profit) corralled them too, hype locking eyes upward.
"What's inside anyway?"
No competition meant easy entry, no brawls with rampaging high-level mobs—win for Vulcan. Gave breathing room; despite Tud's silence, one more question en route.
Made no sense. Obvious, easy entrance—why hide it behind "not worthy" excuses? What slumbered that demanded trials? Divine Sword? Demon Sword? Choosing master via tests?
"What the...?"
Mod? Item-ish? Gibberish, and no more answers—had to see himself. Vulcan crept stealthily, trace-free, tensed and leaped behind the waterfall into Tud's dungeon.
You have entered the Hidden Dungeon: Dragon's Tomb.