From the day the Black Widows arrived and the Crimson Church accepted its new inhabitants, time fell into a steady rhythm. The halls were no longer silent or empty. While Freya managed the administrative burden and integrated the new recruits, Luthar spent his days reinforcing defenses, upgrading weapons, and drafting countermeasures against Mephisto.
To an outsider, it might have looked like fear. A young man preparing for an impossible enemy. But Luthar knew better. The problem was not defeating Mephisto. The real challenge was doing so without reducing the world to ash.
Under normal circumstances he would not have cared about a single planet. But Earth was different. In the years ahead it would give birth to countless miracles—from time machines to interstellar weapons.
Simple precautions were no longer enough. He needed backups for his backups: like blasting Mephisto directly with system energy, opening a gate and sending a fully armed vessel into the demon's kingdom to reduce it to slag, or acting like a Grey Knight and sealing him by force.
He checked the system energy module. Seventy-six percent.
That made the first option worthless. Running out of energy in this universe would be dangerous. His thoughts drifted to what weapons he could finish next when a soft voice cut into his concentration.
"Mr. Luthar. Mr. Luthar?"
He blinked once and returned to the present. Elna stood in front of him, her brown hair slightly disheveled, watching him with a worried expression. His eyes lowered to the notebook she carried.
"What is it?" Luthar asked.
Elna held the notebook to her chest. "There is Miss Ais from Loki Familia—she has come several times asking to purchase 'chain-swords.' I tried explaining we don't sell chain-swords… but I'm not sure she understands."
She flipped the notebook open, a faint crease of worry on her brow. "And there were other customers asking about the magic weapons you used on the eighteenth floor."
Luthar frowned. "Magic weapons? We don't sell those."
Then the memory clicked. The eighteenth floor. The weapon that tore through Black Goliath armour and change the battlefield.
They meant the quick-cannon.
Of course they did.
He exhaled through his nose. "If they're searching for magical armaments, they're in the wrong place. This shop does not deal in divine tools, spellcraft, or enchanted artifacts."
Elna looked relieved and troubled at the same time, as though unsure if adventurers would even believe her.
Luthar muttered, "I barely understand how magic weapons are made. The idea that I'd casually sell one is absurd."
He shook his head and returned to business.
"Reject all custom requests. We only sell what we can mass-produce."
Elna nodded immediately. "Yes, Mr. Luthar."
Luthar reached beneath the counter and retrieved a compact sidearm. A sleek, matte-black pistol—lightweight, durable, and suited for emergencies.
"Elna."
She blinked. "Yes?"
He handed the weapon to her. "Take this with you when you leave the shop or walk alone in the city. A standard las-pistol, simple. Reliable. It will fire even if the world refuses to cooperate."
Elna accepted it slowly, examining it with cautious curiosity. "Is this… a weapon?"
"You work here," he said flatly. "And this city has a talent for creating trouble at inconvenient times. Use it if you're alone or if someone tries something stupid."
She held the grip with awkward seriousness, as though afraid to tilt it wrong. "I don't know how to use—"
"That's simple enough," Luthar interrupted. "I'm heading into the Dungeon tomorrow with a few others. You'll come along. We'll train you in basic self-defense."
Elna bowed her head slightly. "Thank you."
He stood and swept his gaze across the workshop. Shelves fully stocked. Boxes filled with cheap blades ready to be sold.
"Once I finish the new drones," he said, half to himself, "deliveries will be automated. You won't need to collect supplies from the church every day. I'll still stop by to check on things."
Elna nodded. "I don't mind collecting the supplies. Besides, this is the only way to…"
She hesitated, the rest fading as if she wasn't sure she should say it.
Luthar didn't comment. He simply adjusted his cloak and turned toward the door, the movement a clear signal that she now had control of the counter.
Before stepping out, he added without looking back, "Don't worry about being replaced or paid less. The workload may change, but your position won't."
"Yes, Mr. Luthar."
The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped outside.
He turned left—only a few steps—and entered Miach's shop next door. Rows of potion bottles shimmered along the walls, filling the air with the scent of herbs and alchemical powders.
Naaza looked up from the counter, ears perking slightly. "Welcome."
Luthar handed her a folded parchment. "Do you know where I can buy these ingredients?"
Naaza took the parchment and scanned the list. Her ears twitched sharply—once—recognizing most of the items as components for high-grade beauty potions.
"No shop will have these," she said. "They only appear inside the dungeon, on the lower floors."
She pointed to the first item.
"Stonetooth Root… grows on the backs of Rockbell Lizards around the forty-second floor. I've never heard of anyone actually finding it."
Her finger moved down.
"Abyssal Resin… harvested on the forty-fifth floor. Extremely difficult to obtain, and it breaks down outside the Dungeon."
Then she tapped the last one.
"Voidcap Mycelia… forms only in mana-saturated caverns past the fiftieth floor."
She exhaled and folded the parchment.
"To be honest, the ingredients are rare and practically useless to collect. There are alternative herbs with similar effects."
Luthar shook his head. "I checked the alternatives. They don't work for what I need, so I'm asking if there's any place that might stock them, even irregularly."
"Nobody keeps stock of these." Naaza sighed. "If you want them, you'll need elite adventurers willing to go that deep. Even then, you're still gambling. There's no guarantee they'll find anything."
A dull disappointment settled in Luthar's chest. It wasn't that he couldn't hire elite adventurers. The issue was certainty. Even if they went that deep… even if they returned alive… even if they found all three ingredients… there was no assurance any of it would actually solve his problem.
He folded the parchment and turned to leave, but Naaza stepped forward and blocked him.
"Wait."
Her ears lowered slightly, somewhere between concern and irritation.
"Don't be so quick to run off," she said. "Ask Miach first. Before you start throwing money and risking lives, at least talk to him."
She hesitated, then added, "He doesn't look like it, but he's one of the best when it comes to potioncraft. If anyone can guide you about herbs, it's him."
She hadn't liked Luthar at first—thought he was just another idiot with strange ideas—but that changed the day he rebuilt her arm. The crude mechanical limb she once relied on was nothing compared to what he crafted.
Helping him now was the least she could do… and if she earned a few extra coins along the way, well, that would be great.
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