With the excitement finally dying out, Quagmire refocused on himself. He breathed in and out with a pleasant smile, intending to stabilize emotions that had strayed too far. Along with the accompanying calmness and tranquility, he felt the gentle breeze dampening his body, slowly but surely lowering his temperature to a much more comfortable level. The sounds of nature permeated his hearing. Calmness finally triumphed over him.
Who would have thought he would be able to experience this after the earlier baptism of fire? Maybe he really deserved the rewards and the rest he was able to enjoy at this time, as he might be in for a tougher battle in the future. A brief respite is nothing compared to a responsibility, after all.
Nevertheless, as he stared into nature and the world before him, he remembered that there was one last message in the mail, so he pulled it up and read it.
[Your accomplishments and dedications delighted the world. To celebrate the arrival of "The Emperor Of Man," a gift of five thousand gold coins was transferred into your inventory.]
After seeing this, Quagmire immediately looked over to his spatial inventory, and when he pulled it up, an even greater shock struck him. The coins were stacked in a single bar, which meant that items of common identity or value were grouped together.
There were only sixty slots in the spatial inventory, so receiving five thousand gold coins could have been a disaster if the stack had a limit. The slots would have been immediately filled up—thankfully, that wasn't the case. With that in mind, he decided to check the shop—maybe that's where he could use the gold coins—and before that, he decided to bring out a gold coin.
With a single thought, a gold coin was brought out. He stared at it; it was purely made of gold, and this utterly shocked him. In his world, gold was such a valuable commodity for currency production and a form of central bank backup. Did that mean gold was insignificant here in this world? No matter what, if he could use it in the shop, then it must be valuable—if he had to gather it, then it would also be valuable in this world he now stood on.
He did not let those kinds of thoughts linger further as he pushed them to the back of his mind and started browsing the shops. There was the supplies store, where he could buy weapons and other gear. Unfortunately, he was the only one who could purchase and use them. It was a restriction meant only for him, which meant the items were bound to him and could never be lost.
Another was the skills store. He could buy skills using skill points and also use those points to upgrade existing skills up to ten times. The way to earn skill points was by completing daily missions, which, unfortunately, had a set limit on how many he could earn each day. That meant he couldn't abuse or farm them. Worse, a single upgrade or skill could cost hundreds or even thousands of points, which meant he really needed to rely on his command ability and strategies to build everything. It was terribly obvious what the system was telling him.
Lastly was the technological upgrade store, where he could enhance weapons, technology, techniques, methods, and all sorts of things used in developing a civilization—including irrigation, husbandry, and similar aspects. It was like a research lab. After researching an upgrade, it would appear in the supplies store for firearms and in the database for droids and facilities. This meant that if he researched a plane engine, he could immediately order the manufacturing plants to produce the engines.
Unfortunately, while that all sounded good, it wasn't entirely ideal, as there was a severe limiting factor—and that was resources. He needed ores to build guns, wood to build houses, and as the tech tree expanded, more advanced materials were needed. Thus, more dedicated factories were required, and the cycle continued. This also included goods used in trade. If anyone had to handle all of this, they might faint from the sheer amount of work and responsibility. Not only that, but efficiency had to be optimized—even the routes or roads where the droids moved had to be efficient.
Quagmire, just thinking about the incoming challenges, got so many headaches that he pushed all those thoughts to the back of his mind—including the responsibilities he would have to bear in the future. After all, he must not count his chicken eggs before they hatch, as he was still just starting, and a lot could happen. So, he would think about it when it was actually near and truly happening.
Anyhow, he now had money. With that thought in mind, he pulled up the supplies shop. Since he was the only one who could use it, that meant there should be uniforms and supplies.
After pulling up and browsing the supplies store, his eyes widened as he stared at the window in shock. What he found was that he could customize his uniform, swords, watch, and support equipment for only a hundred gold. That was such a steal—not only could he modify it further in the future.
Quagmire did not dwell too much on the excitement, as the most important thing at the moment was acquiring firearms. If the firearms were expensive, he would be in big trouble, as he also needed to buy ammunition to keep firing. He couldn't stab heads forever, after all.
Fortunately, once his eyes darted around to where the weapons were, his expression turned into one of excitement, as his heartbeat grew louder with emotion.
"A single M1 Pistol is only a hundred gold?!" he muttered under his breath.