General Pov
For the first time in years, Hedin Selland could not find the next move.
He did not move at all.
The cold, silver tip of Max's rapier rested firmly against his throat. The Chief Strategist was kneeling in the dirt of the Dungeon, his skin bleeding, his magic completely smothered… and he himself defeated.
"Match," Hogni's voice echoed across the cratered remains of the safe zone as he stepped out of the shadows, his voice carrying the impartial finality of a judge. "Maximus is the victor."
At that, the cavern settled into a heavy, ringing silence. It felt as if the Dungeon itself was pausing to process what had just transpired: a Level 5 executive, the supreme tactical pillar of Folkvangr's might, brought to his knees by a rookie who had been in the city for less than three weeks.
Max didn't move. He kept the silver tip of his rapier leveled squarely at Hedin's throat.
But the moment the match was called, bone-deep exhaustion crashed over him.
The crimson-black aura of his Destruction armor didn't just fade—it fractured, the magical upkeep suddenly too heavy for his depleted reserves to sustain. A blinding migraine spiked behind his eyes like driven glass. In hindsight, he should have dispelled the Thought Projection of Gojo before pushing himself this far. Maintaining a distant construct while fueling two simultaneous Auto-Evade protocols and a suffocating suit of erasure armor had been reckless. Now, as the adrenaline faded, that upkeep was demanding its toll.
Truthfully, he was only still standing because his passive regen was fighting a brutal, losing battle against his near-empty reserves.
Gritting his teeth against the ringing in his ears, Max looked down at the Chief Strategist. Hedin's usually immaculate uniform was scorched and torn, a thin line of blood trailing down his shoulder. But what caught Max's attention was the sharp tip of the White Elf's ear protruding from his disheveled blonde hair.
His brain, currently fried, offered a delirious thought: I could touch it. The ultimate weeb milestone. It's right there.
He killed the impulse immediately. Absolutely not. Letting his first pair of elven ears belong to a sour-faced, violently stubborn executive felt like a cosmic waste. Besides, if he reached out right now, his arm might actually cramp and refuse to move. He would try his luck with Riveria or Ryuu before he violated his own standards.
Max lowered his rapier with a sharp flick of his wrist, stepping back. "I believe we had an agreement, Hedin."
Hedin said nothing immediately. The White Elf slowly pushed himself up from the cracked earth, his movements stiff with suppressed pain as he pointedly ignored the blood trickling down his shoulder. Reaching into the inner pocket of his ruined cloak, he produced a sealed envelope bearing the Guild's wax crest and held it out.
Max took the letter, slipping it into his pouch. "And the funds?"
"I shall instruct Clemon to release the frozen assets when I return to Folkvangr," Hedin clipped, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "The surplus, beyond the debt you cleared, will be processed into your personal account."
"Excellent. Glad we cleared the air," Max breathed, trying to sound brighter than he felt.
"However," Hedin continued, his eyes narrowing behind his cracked glasses. The elf was beaten, but his tactical mind refused to surrender entirely. "Regarding the remaining stipulation. Your insistence that I refrain from interfering in your business."
Max crossed his arms to hide the slight tremor in his hands. "Those were the terms."
"They are the terms of an amateur wasting his own potential," Hedin countered smoothly, stepping back into his element. The anger was receding. What replaced it was the calculating eye of a master instructor. "Your raw power is undeniable, Maximus. But your efficiency is atrocious. You leak Mind like a cracked vessel. Your spell structures are incredibly brute-force. I am willing to negotiate a waiver of those specific terms in exchange for my personal tutelage. I will teach you the true heights of magical manipulation, concurrent processing, and refined control."
Max stared at the elf. He had to admire the unmitigated gall. The man had a rapier at his throat thirty seconds ago and was already trying to leverage himself back into a position of authority.
"I'll bite," Max said, a challenging glint entering his amethyst eyes. "Teach me the principles behind Varian Hildr."
Hedin froze.
Silence blanketed the cavern. Hedin stared at the boy as if he had just demanded the moon on a silver platter. Varian Hildr was the culmination of decades of elven arcane mastery—Hedin's ultimate technique. The sheer audacity of it was staggering.
Seeing the elf go quiet, Max decided to press his advantage. He forced a final, stubborn surge of mana through his aching channels and snapped his fingers.
The air popped.
A jagged, hyper-compressed arrow of blue lightning snapped into existence, hovering inches above his palm. It wasn't nearly as stable as Hedin's, but the color, the shape, and the distinct, humming oscillation were unmistakable copies of his Caelus Hildr.
Hedin's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, transfixed by the blue spark. He is running on fumes, yet he merely observed the spell and replicated it?
"My magic," Max explained casually, letting the shock settle over the executive, "allows me to learn and replicate any spell, provided I understand the underlying concept and physical mechanics behind it."
He dispelled the lightning with a flick of his wrist. "I can figure out the basic arrows on my own. It's just compressed voltage and directional intent. But your ultimate spell... it's different. I felt it when it detonated against my barrier. It doesn't just strike; it makes the air feel dead. There is a unique density to it, a foundational principle I haven't cracked yet."
Max stepped closer. "So, unless you are willing to teach me the specific principles behind that uniqueness, I am not willing to listen to your negotiations." He turned his head toward the edge of the flower field. "Hey, Hogni. Doesn't this bargaining violate the 'no interference' condition we agreed on?"
Hogni, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, stepped forward. The Dark Elf crossed his arms, assuming the role of impartial arbiter with sudden solemnity.
"It does not," Hogni ruled, shaking his head. "An offer of tutelage is a transaction, not a direct interference in your affairs. The Abyss deems his negotiation permissible."
Max let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great. I have a feeling I'm never going to get rid of you now, am I?"
Hedin didn't answer. He was still staring at Max's empty hand, his face pale, his mind vibrating with an intoxicating, pedagogical hunger. To mold a student capable of replicating anything he saw... it was a temptation no master mage could possibly resist.
But before Hedin could voice his terms, a blur of blue shot across the clearing.
Ki!
Kairu launched himself from Hogni's shoulder and landed squarely on Max's chest. Without waiting for a command, the slime flattened out, his mass rapidly enveloping the scorched steel of Max's chestplate and the notched blade of his rapier. A soft, rhythmic hum filled the air as Kairu began to aggressively devour the damaged equipment, stripping away the ruined metal to process and repair it internally.
Hedin watched the display in muted disbelief. They were on Floor 28, surrounded by the oppressive atmosphere of the deep Dungeon. Yet this gelatinous familiar was cheerfully devouring armor as if they were lounging in a sunny courtyard on the surface.
The White Elf's gaze shifted from the slime to its master.
A chill brushed against Hedin's spine. The casual dominance, the refusal to bow to the established laws of the world, the crushing gravity of his presence even while teetering on the edge of exhaustion... it reminded Hedin of a ghost.
The sudden loss of weight from his armor pulled Max's attention back to his familiar. He looked down as Kairu bounced happily on his shoulder, vibrating with a series of enthusiastic Kis.
"Yeah, buddy. I know," Max grinned tiredly, giving the slime a fond pat. "I did it."
Hogni offered a slow, respectful nod of approval.
Kairu, however, was not finished. The slime extended a tiny pseudopod, pointing it straight back up toward the ceiling, and vibrated insistently. He formed the shape of a jagged '2' and a '4' on the surface of his blue body.
Max laughed softly, the motion tugging at his sore ribs. "Yes, yes, I know. You want to face that Green Dragon right now."
An enthusiastic pulse of agreement shot through their bond.
Max thought for a second. His own reserves were entirely tapped. He desperately needed to drop Gojo, get back to his room, and rest. But Kairu was vibrating with unspent energy, hungry to prove himself.
"Alright, it's a deal," Max agreed. He turned, fully intending to ask Hogni if he wanted to supervise the slime's hunt.
But Hogni suddenly stiffened. The Dark Elf pressed his fingers against his new comms bracelet as if hearing something. His expression, which had been uncharacteristically relaxed, instantly hardened into a mask of sharp focus.
"W-We will be there," Hogni muttered into the bracelet.
He lowered his hand and turned to Max. "Maximus. There is an urgent Executive Meeting. Can you send us to Babel?"
Hedin, who was just pushing himself to his feet and brushing the ash from his ruined cloak, opened his mouth in immediate protest. "Wait a moment here. What in Lady Freya's name is going on? There will be no departure. I still have a multitude of matters I must discuss—"
"Your discussion will wait, Hedin," Hogni interrupted, his voice cold and flat, cutting through his rival's demands with effortless authority. "The meeting was called directly by the Mistress. She requires our presence atop Babel immediately. If you have objections, convey them to her personally."
Hedin's jaw clicked shut. He glared at Hogni, then at Max, his eyes promising that their negotiation regarding Max's tutelage was merely postponed, not canceled.
Hogni offered a single nod to Max.
Channeling his remaining mana, Max fought through the migraine to adjust the spatial coordinates in his mind. "Top of Babel, coming up."
As the crimson circle flared to life beneath the two elves, Max saw Hedin observing the intricate arcane geometry of the circle with intense, analytical hunger. He just chuckled at the elf's persistence and before he could object to anything else, Max activated the circle.
VWOOM.
The two executives vanished in a flash of light.
Max let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders immediately slumping as the silence of the destroyed floor settled around him. He looked down at the slime on his shoulder.
"Alright, Kairu," Max sighed, a tired but genuine smile touching his lips. "I think you're more than ready to handle this yourself."
Ki? Kairu tilted his body, pausing his excited jiggles.
"You want that Green Dragon? It's all yours," Max laughed softly. "Go wild on Floor 24. Eat whatever you want, test your limits, and when you're full... just pop back safely to our room in Folkvangr."
Kairu's core flared with ecstatic light. He bounced off Max's shoulder, landing on the ground and expanding his mass with a joyful, quivering sound.
Max activated another circle on the ground, linking it directly to the anchor on Floor 24. "Have fun. Don't die."
Kairu gave a jaunty, perfectly formed salute with a pseudopod, hopped onto the circle, and vanished in a pulse of magic to begin his solo rampage through the Middle Floors.
Watching the empty space for a moment, Max shook his head with quiet amusement. He had humbled the Chief Strategist, thwarted his efforts to assert control, and gained some highly profitable ideas on how to manipulate lightning magic. All in all, a productive few hours.
If only Guild bureaucrats were this fast, Max thought wryly.
With a final, agonizing surge of mana, another teleportation circle flared beneath him, and he vanished toward his suite in Folkvangr to finally rest.
-◈ -
Max
The first thing he did upon returning to his suite was summon his Thought Projection.
Gojo flickered into existence beside the table, leaning back with his usual effortless, irritatingly relaxed posture. Max didn't even bother sitting down before demanding an update, and a quick exchange confirmed there was no emergency. Lili was fine—annoyed and busy, but completely safe on the Upper Floors.
That was all he needed to know. Max severed the connection.
The invisible vice gripping his mana reserves released at once, sending a soothing rebound through his core. It was barely a fraction of his total capacity, but after the abuse his channels had just taken, that tiny surge of returning magic felt like taking a full breath for the first time in hours.
He opened his eyes and looked straight at his bed.
The urge to change his clothes, collapse onto the mattress, and sleep until tomorrow was a physical weight pushing him down. The Guild could wait. Ouranos could wait.
Then his stomach cramped with a violent rumble. He hadn't just bottomed out his mana; his body was quietly cannibalizing itself to fuel his regeneration as well. Out of the corner of his eye, the wax seal on the Guild envelope caught the light from his desk.
Food first, he bargained with himself, tearing his eyes away from the letter. If I still feel like a corpse after eating, I'll sleep.
Leaving the letter untouched, Max dragged himself down to the mess hall. He worked through five stacked plates of food in total silence, pausing only to send a quick mental ping to Kairu to eat the monster stones they'd harvested for energy.
By the time he scraped the last plate clean, the heavy influx of calories finally gave his regeneration the fuel it desperately needed. The blinding migraine smoothed out into a dull throb, and the faint trembling in his hands stopped entirely. He wasn't at a hundred percent, but the bone-deep exhaustion had backed off. He was functional.
Walking back into his suite, Max looked at the bed one last time. He let out a quiet sigh, rolled his shoulders, and turned his back on it.
Morbid curiosity had officially beaten his exhaustion. He genuinely wanted to see what creative, bureaucratic excuse the Guild had cooked up to shortchange him on the missing metal.
The nap would have to wait. He walked over to the desk, picked up the Guild letter, and broke the seal.
As expected, the missive was from Royman. The Guild Head started by addressing the missing loot—dancing around the name only because Guild bureaucracy apparently considered stating 'Orichalcum' aloud too explicit for formal correspondence. Even so, the meaning was obvious: a premium price had been authorized to compensate for the "loss."
Max clicked his tongue in mild disappointment. So they were just going to buy him off. He was very much looking forward to experimenting with a magical metal of that caliber. If the Guild is going to aggressively hoard whatever they find, I'll just have to mine it myself. He made a mental note to ask about specific spawn floors during the meeting.
The next section named Rehmer as his officially designated liaison for all future business. Max smiled. One direct contact was infinitely better than dealing with a rotating cast of bureaucratic idiots who never knew what the last guy had said.
Then the letter shifted tone entirely to discuss Lord Ouranos. The Guild had received the supreme deity's directives, the necessary preparations had been made, and they were eagerly awaiting Max's arrival.
Max set the letter down.
Everything he wanted to do was fast-tracked. He wasn't just dealing with middle management today; he had the literal ruler of Orario waiting on him. The items he was about to introduce would fundamentally alter the survival rates of the Dungeon. He had the chance to rewrite the fates of thousands of adventurers, and he refused to treat that casually.
Massive changes were coming to the city, and he needed to be razor-sharp.
To purge the last lingering pull of sleep from his heavy meal, Max summoned a paper-thin layer of Destruction magic across his skin. The crimson-black aura flared for a fraction of a second, the erasure aspect literally killing the drowsiness in his system like a physical threat.
His eyes snapped wide open. The fatigue was instantly burned away, replaced by a cold, calculating focus.
It was time to get this done.
Focusing inward, Max let his magic wash over him, triggering the transformation. His height shrank. His jawline softened. When he opened his eyes, the friendly, golden gaze of Rimuru Tempest looked back at him from the mirror. With a small build and a soft face, it was a form people instinctively underestimated. The perfect disguise for a merchant.
Using his own transformed body as a blueprint, Max shaped his magic and extracted a Thought Projection of the slime. With a mental push, he merged the newly formed projection directly into Kairu's clone, giving the construct a physical anchor in the real world.
Then came the heavy lifting. He carefully wove the Complex protocol of his Independent Action into the anchor.
Bracing himself, Max downed a Mind Potion just as the sudden drain hit his core. It stung, but noticeably less than his very first attempt—proof that his magical capacity and control were already adapting.
With a familiar click in his mind, the connection finalized.
Max dropped his own transformation, snapping back to his original body. He let go of the reins entirely, issuing a blanket order for the projection to act and speak without his interference.
The proxy animated immediately. Rimuru struck a confident pose, flashing a cheerful, disarming smile. "I'm not a bad slime! Yo! Nice to meetcha!"
Max watched critically. The voice, the easygoing mannerisms, and the underlying diplomatic cheer perfectly matched the slime from his anime memories. The instinct to negotiate and deflect rather than threaten was fully intact, operating entirely on its own autonomous logic.
Max gave a slow nod of satisfaction. "Wait here until I summon you."
Rimuru offered a jaunty salute.
Satisfied that his trump card was prepared, Max activated a crimson circle beneath his feet, teleporting directly to the base of Babel.
The brief walk through the bustling streets to the Pantheon gave him the perfect opportunity to arrange his thoughts. He mentally organized everything he wanted to share, everything he intended to withhold, and exactly how he was going to leverage his position.
The Guild lobby was its usual chaotic sea of adventurers and clerks, but Max ignored the main boards. His gaze settled on a man standing somewhat apart from the others, positioned off to the side rather than behind the standard counters. A small, polished nameplate on the desk beside him read: Rehmer — Liaison, Merchant Affairs.
Max made a beeline straight for him.
Something about the man's features tugged faintly at the back of his memory—an anime background character, possibly—but the details refused to surface. Max gave a mental shrug and let it go.
On his way across the floor, he caught sight of Rose. She noticed him almost instantly and lifted a hand in greeting with a bright smile. Max waved back warmly without breaking his stride.
Rehmer looked up just as Max reached the desk. Recognition flashed across the section head's face, and with it came a visible straightening of his posture. It was the look of a man whose day had just become significantly more important.
"Good afternoon, Mister Rehmer," Max greeted, keeping his tone respectful and easy.
Rehmer set his clipboard down. "Mister Maximus. It is a genuine pleasure to meet you formally."
The liaison offered a small, professional inclination of his head, but when he spoke again, his voice dropped a fraction. It was a deliberate, measured shift—just quiet enough to keep their conversation from drifting into the crowded lobby.
"We received the official notice from your Familia regarding your status update," Rehmer murmured, his formal register softening into something far more candid. "I had some time to review the broader context of your recent activity. I must offer my sincere congratulations on your victory over the Goliath, and your subsequent Level up. What you accomplished is not something I can file under 'routine.'"
Max held the man's gaze, noting the lowered volume. There was no cheap flattery in the delivery; Rehmer wasn't trying to stroke his ego. He was speaking with the quiet, guarded precision of a man who knew exactly how rare that achievement was—and how much chaos it would cause if the rest of the room overheard it.
"It was a one-of-a-kind experience," Max replied, matching the man's hushed volume with genuine modesty. "Not one I'll be forgetting soon."
A brief beat of silence passed between them—both of them allowing the words to fade.
After a moment, Rehmer picked up his clipboard and tucked it under his arm. "Shall we? I believe we have a great deal to discuss."
"After you," Max said.
As he followed, Max expected to be guided toward one of the side booths used for standard private conversations. Instead, Rehmer led him past the lower-floor traffic entirely, up the stairs toward the upper levels of the Guild, to a highly secure, heavily soundproofed private chamber.
Less noise. Better materials. Thicker doors. It was a room built explicitly for conversations the Guild preferred not to have drifting through public air.
Once they were settled inside, Rehmer inclined his head. "If you will give me just a few minutes, I will retrieve the compensated materials from the vault. Please make yourself comfortable."
"Take your time," Max said, leaning back in his chair.
Rehmer rose and made his way out. The heavy wooden door shut behind him with a firm, muffled click.
The instant Max felt the section head's presence recede far enough down the corridor, he moved. He pulled out his storage pouch and began laying out his items on the table. A pulse of magic stretched beneath him, and Rimuru materialized into the room. The blue-haired projection hopped up onto the neighboring chair with an easy, entirely too innocent smile, looking completely at home despite having just bypassed the Guild's highest security wards.
-◈ -
Rehmer
Several minutes later, Rehmer turned the handle and stepped back into the chamber, carefully balancing a secured case in his arms.
He stopped dead in the doorway.
A cheerful, blue-haired figure was now sitting comfortably in the neighboring chair. Rehmer blinked, his gaze snapping from the impossible newcomer back to Maximus. His mind scrambled to process the scene. The chamber was highly secure, possessing no windows and only a single, guarded entrance. He had been gone for exactly three minutes. How in the world had a second person bypassed the Guild's internal security wards and entered this room?
Before the questions could spill from his mouth, eleven years of Guild discipline clamped down hard on his confusion. Royman's explicit instructions rang in his head: He is backed by Lord Ouranos. Do not ask unnecessary questions. Rehmer forced his expression neutral, prioritizing the business over his own mounting alarm.
"My apologies for the surprise," Maximus said immediately, his tone smooth and disarming. "Please relax. Allow me to explain." The young adventurer gestured toward the newcomer. "I will not be personally fronting this operation, for reasons I hope will become clear. This is my business representative."
The blue-haired figure sprang to his feet, extending a hand with a radiant, self-assured smile. "Rimuru Tempest! Merchant extraordinaire. Pleasure to meet you, Mister Rehmer."
Rehmer stared at the offered hand for precisely one moment. Swallowing the dozen security inquiries burning on his tongue, he accepted the handshake with practiced grace, set the heavy case carefully on the table, and took his seat.
"I am glad to meet you, Mister Rimuru," Rehmer said carefully, mentally filing the impossible intrusion under 'unusual occurrences'. "I had been wondering how I was going to address the subject of operational separation."
"Then I will save you the trouble," Maximus said. "This operation is entirely separate from official Freya Familia affairs. Anything related to it goes through him." He nodded toward Rimuru. "You can reach me directly for anything urgent, but day-to-day business flows through Rimuru."
Rehmer nodded, making a brief note on his clipboard. Brilliant, he thought. Dealing with the Freya Familia directly was always a political minefield; having a dedicated, unaffiliated proxy made the Guild's side of the ledger considerably cleaner.
"For that reason," Maximus continued, reaching into his storage pouch, "a token from my side to the Guild."
He set three objects on the table. Bracelets. Clean in design and elegantly constructed, they were entirely unlike standard Guild issue. But what held Rehmer's attention was the faint, deliberate hum of active enchantment running through the metal. They were functional.
"The blue and silver one is for Lord Ouranos," Maximus said.
Rehmer's gaze darted to it immediately.
"They function simply," Maximus explained, sliding one bracelet across to Rehmer and another to Rimuru. "Channel your intent, think of the person you wish to speak to, and wait for the confirmation ping. Once you hear it, speak. The linked partner receives your voice regardless of distance."
Maximus tapped the face of his own bracelet. "By default, they operate on a local loudspeaker mode, so anyone in the immediate vicinity of the receiver can hear the transmission. However, if you funnel a slightly sharper burst of intent into the band before speaking, it switches to a silent, direct-to-mind channel for private communication."
He looked at Rehmer directly. "Go ahead. Try it."
Rehmer examined the band for a moment before slipping it onto his wrist. Composing himself, he channeled a careful, measured pulse of intent, thinking of the blue-haired figure across the table.
Ping.
"Testing," Rehmer said quietly.
Rimuru's bracelet hummed, and Rehmer's own voice came out of it audibly—clear, immediate, and carrying no degradation or delay.
Rimuru beamed. He focused on his own bracelet, but instead of a soft hum, a sharper pulse of intent flared for a fraction of a second.
Loud and clear, Mister Rehmer, Rimuru's voice echoed, not in the room, but directly inside Rehmer's head.
The liaison set his hand flat on the table, saying nothing for several seconds.
His mind, however, was moving incredibly fast. He knew, better than almost anyone, the logistical nightmare of the Guild's current communication network. During a crisis, they relied entirely on runners—vulnerable employees who had to physically sprint through the chaotic streets of Orario, dodging panicked crowds just to deliver a scrap of paper. Travel times were a massive, sometimes fatal bottleneck.
This bracelet erased all of that.
If this technology scaled—if the Guild could distribute these to the heads of the major Familias—they could coordinate city-wide responses to Dungeon outbreaks in minutes instead of hours. It was a paradigm shift sitting quietly on a wooden table.
Rehmer looked up, his tone far more serious now. "Mister Maximus... who else currently holds these?"
"Most of the Freya Familia executives," Max answered easily. "And Lady Freya."
Rehmer let out a slow, quiet breath. Controlled distribution. That was deeply reassuring. If these had been sold on the open black market, the intelligence risks would be catastrophic.
"I will need to present these directly to Director Royman," Rehmer said, his mind already formulating the pitch. "The operational value of this tool cannot be overstated."
"Feel free," Maximus said with a slight smile. "And as I mentioned, you can contact me directly through that bracelet whenever necessary."
"Understood. We are profoundly grateful." Rehmer carefully set his own bracelet aside, treating it with the reverence of a priceless artifact. Taking a steadying breath to ground himself back in the meeting's original agenda, he reached forward to open the secured case. "Now. Regarding the compensated materials."
He lifted out two ingots and set them on the table. One carried the characteristic pale gleam of refined Mithril. The other, darker and denser, was unmistakable Adamantite.
"These represent the highest quality currently available in the Guild's reserves," Rehmer stated, slipping back into the clean, factual register of a professional presentation. "I must reiterate that Orichalcum remains unavailable. It is not actively stocked and cannot be reliably sourced at this time."
Max reached forward and picked up the Adamantite ingot, turning it once in his hand. "Understood." He set it back down. "Then let me ask directly—where in the Dungeon does it naturally available? I prefer to source it myself if the Guild cannot supply it."
Rehmer paused, folding his hands on the table. "At the beginning of the Age of the Gods," he began, shifting into the careful cadence of institutional history, "Orichalcum was found throughout the Dungeon with relative frequency. As exploration expanded and systematic harvesting became standard practice, supply diminished significantly."
He met the young adventurer's gaze. "Today, confirmed natural deposits are documented only in the deep floors—specifically the 44th floor and beyond. Our research suggests active depletion without meaningful natural regeneration."
Maximus processed that in silence for a moment. Floor 44 and below.
"Noted. Thank you." The boy straightened in his chair. "Then let us move to the main purpose of the meeting."
Reaching into his storage pouch, Max produced a carefully sealed container of potion vials, setting them on the table beside the metals. "These are standard Mind Potions of my own formulation. I would like to discuss the possibility of the Guild incorporating them into the standard adventurer support package."
Rehmer leaned forward, his merchant instincts immediately taking over as he examined the vibrant blue liquid.
"I am prepared to supply them in whatever volume the Guild requires," Max continued. "To give you something concrete to evaluate, those are one hundred units. Consider it a trial batch. I have already tested the formula on a mixed party representing most of the major adventurer species. Efficacy was consistent across all of them."
Rehmer noted that down with practiced efficiency. Cross-species stability was usually the hardest hurdle for mass-market potions to clear. "We will have our apothecary team evaluate them immediately. Pricing structure for supply?"
"I will share that once the trial confirms viability from your end," Max said. "No point in negotiating numbers before you know what you have."
Rehmer gave a nod of deep professional approval. It was rare to deal with an adventurer who actually understood proper market sequencing.
"Next," Max said, reaching into the storage pouch again.
He set three rings on the table. They were simple in design, almost deliberately understated, but the faint magical resonance emanating from each made Rehmer's pen stop moving entirely.
"Trinitas Rings," Max began. "Each ring carries one of three enchantments. A defensive barrier, a binding spell, or a direct-damage lightning spell." He paused, gesturing toward his projection. "Rimuru will take it from here."
The blue-haired clone leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with easy confidence. "The rings are tiered to match adventurer Level, so the power scales appropriately and doesn't put unsafe tools in the wrong hands."
Rimuru produced a clean, neatly organized chart and laid it flat on the table. Rehmer pulled it toward himself and began to read the breakdown.
Tier 1 — Target: Level 1s and Low Level 2s
Maiden's Lament: Lightning strike equivalent to a solid Level 2 Mage output.
Price: 10,000 Valis.
Father's Fist: Six rods of binding light. Immobilizes a target long enough to retreat, heal, or regroup.
Price: 15,000 Valis.
Tier 2 — Target: Solid Level 2s
Maiden's Lament V2: Significantly upgraded output to hit like a Level 3.
Price: 50,000 Valis.
Father's Fist V2: Same binding function, stronger hold, capable of binding Level 3 monsters.
Price: 50,000 Valis.
Mother's Shield: Blue pyramidal barrier. Withstands Level 2 impacts comfortably; can absorb a solid Level 3 strike with additional Mind.
Price: 75,000 Valis.
Purchase Caps per Individual:
Maximum 4 rings of your own Level tier.
Maximum 8 rings of lower Level tiers.
Maximum 1 ring of an upper-Level offensive enchantment.
Maximum 2 rings of upper-Level defensive enchantments.
"Current stock covers Tier One and Tier Two completely," Rimuru added pleasantly. "Development is underway for two additional tiers covering second-class and first-class adventurers, but those will require additional testing."
Rehmer studied the chart in absolute silence. His mind, honed by years of Guild commerce, instantly grasped the sheer economic weight this parchment represented.
The pricing was brutally efficient. Ten thousand Valis for a Tier 1 offensive ring was the exact price of a standard High Potion. Rehmer mentally placed the rings next to the only comparable market equivalent: Magic Swords.
Magic Swords offered devastating elemental output, but their prices were exorbitant. Because of that cost, adventurers treated them as desperate trump cards, hoarding them until it was often too late. These rings, however, were cheap enough to be used freely in a standard battle. They were a sustainable, scalable alternative that would completely revolutionize Upper-floor survival rates.
But looking at the faint, steady magical resonance of the rings on the table, Rehmer noticed something else. The metal was unique—dense and perfectly forged.
He looked up. "A question of logistics. Magic Swords shatter when their durability expires. Are these rings disposable? They appear far too sturdy to simply crumble after use."
Rimuru's smile widened into something undeniably sharp. "That is where the true tactic lies. The rings do not break; they simply empty. If an adventurer brings an exhausted ring back to us, they receive a twenty percent discount on their next purchase."
A quiet realization settled over Rehmer.
Twenty percent.
It was a staggering discount, but the genius of it hit the liaison a second later. A twenty percent markdown on a necessary survival tool guaranteed an almost one hundred percent return rate. Maximus wouldn't have to mine or buy endless supplies of that unique metal; he was creating a closed, self-sustaining economic loop. The adventurers would willingly hand the materials right back to him to be recharged.
More than the profit, though, it forced adventurers to cycle their gear safely. It encouraged them to survive, return to the surface, and re-equip. Rehmer looked at the calm, silent young man sitting across from him. The caps. The affordable entry price. The massive return incentive. Maximus wasn't just trying to dominate a market—he was systematically trying to save lives.
Rehmer made a final series of notes and set his pen down.
He took a moment to recalibrate his entire assessment. He had walked into this room expecting to appease a powerful, perhaps arrogant new Level Three. Instead, he was sitting across from a sovereign logistical entity.
"I will need to present the potions and the rings to Guild leadership for formal consideration," Rehmer said, his voice dropping into a register of sincerity. "Nothing you have placed on this table today is trivial, Mister Maximus."
Maximus held his gaze, perfectly calm, and gave a slight nod.
"However," Rehmer continued, folding his hands together on the desk. He let the silence stretch for half a second. "As significant as these proposals are, merchant affairs are not the real matter at hand."
Rehmer's gaze drifted to the secure, locked door of the chamber, then back to the cheerful blue-haired figure seated across from him. The impossible entry. The bypassed security. The bracelets that ignored distance.
One by one, the pieces aligned in his mind, and a faint chill of awe crept down his spine.
"Teleportation."
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
Looks like Hedin doesn't like to stay quite, huh. Bro was just defeated and the next thing he does is to negotiate how he can train Max and influence his business, lol. Also thanks you all for voting in the poll though it was on short notice.
What do you think of Hedin training Max though? Don't worry it will be purely transactional if it happens. Obviously only if Hedin and Max are available and for the coming week, that is very hard, heh.
Also the guild part, finally we reached to the point of negotiation and obviously the most important parts: Teleportation and Taxes will be discussed in the next chapter, heh. Let's how it goes.
Do share your thoughts on how how much Max should pay in guild taxes and if you have any suggestions to improve it in a review/comment.
If you'd like to read 9 chapters ahead(around 45k words), support my work, or commission a story idea, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m/b3smash
Please note that the chapters are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Next update will be on Friday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.