The group saw many scrolls and skill books in the store, but each one was extremely priced. Even basic skill books demanded thousands of crystals, while advanced techniques soared into the hundreds of thousands.
Selena's expression grew darker with each price tag. Thomas and Elara exchanged glances, their faces reflecting the same growing unease that settled over the entire group.
They got back into the streets, walking in heavy silence. The bustling crowds around them seemed oblivious to their struggles, chattering about purchases and clan business with casual ease.
Everyone was circling around the same question that Adrian had in his mind.
Adrian's voice broke the silence first. "Lord Septimus… if it takes so much just to survive, then how does one build a clan?"
The question froze the group. Kael's steps faltered, while others turned toward Septimus with keen interest.
It was the question they were all thinking, but none had dared to voice. The question that had grown larger with every overpriced scroll they'd witnessed.
Septimus rested his staff against the ground, gaze drifting upward to the banners of Lexaria glowing above. Golden sigils pulsed with authority, casting long shadows across the polished walkways.
"To build a clan," he said slowly, "is not a matter of strength alone. It is a task of centuries."
"A tree that takes root not in soil, but in blood, crystals, and patience." His hands gripped the staff tighter.
He lifted his staff, pointing at the crowds flowing around them. Merchants haggled over prices while clan recruiters called out promises of security and advancement.
"Strength alone will not build you a clan. You need capital, you need land, you need people who will bleed and sweat under your banner."
"And more than all of that, you need something unique. Otherwise, you are nothing more than a name written in sand, washed away by the tide."
Draven barked out a laugh, the sound harsh in the busy street. Several passersby turned their heads, then quickly looked away from his intimidating presence.
"And if you can't pay your people? They'll leave. Happily."
"And when they do, they'll sell your secrets to the highest bidder. Happens every cycle." His scarred knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists.
Adrian's brow furrowed, processing the brutal reality. The galaxy operated on principles far crueler than Earth's united defense.
Septimus continued, his voice carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "The process itself is deceptively simple. First comes registration."
"Half a million mana crystals, up front. The empires don't want millions of petty banners cluttering their territories, so they set the bar high."
"And even if you gather the wealth, money alone is not enough. The empire demands that a clan's leader must stand at the Stellar Stage."
Elara inhaled sharply, her golden eyes widening. Half a million crystals should represent lifetimes of earnings for most cultivators.
"Without it, you won't even be acknowledged." Septimus's tone brooked no argument.
"And then," Septimus said, "you must declare your specialty. A clan cannot register without one."
"Mercenary, Inscriber, Logistics, Transport, Artisans, Resource harvesting, or even Merchants. A clan needs something that defines it." He gestured toward various clan buildings visible in the distance.
Thomas frowned, his mind already working through possibilities. "What if we choose something too common?"
"Then you'll drown," Septimus said flatly.
"Take mercenary clans, there are thousands, but only those who carve their name in blood survive."
He pointed at a large tower as they crossed it, "That's the Bloodfang Clan, they are a mercenary clan."
"They never once failed a contract. That reputation alone feeds them recruits. If we choose something too common, then we need to build a reputation." Banners bearing a crimson fang symbol fluttered from every level.
"Without such weight behind your name, people will starve… and the clan will dissolve." The tower's imposing presence seemed to emphasize his words.
Then, they passed a plaza where tired cultivators stood behind rickety stalls. Makeshift banners promised wages, training scrolls, protection in faded letters.
But the passersby ignored them, their desperation hanging like smoke. A few young warriors lingered, but even they seemed uncertain.
Septimus gestured toward the struggling cultivators. "See? Common specialty and no reputation worth fearing. No resources to lure loyalty."
"They will dissolve within the year." His voice carried neither mockery nor pity, only cold assessment.
Draven spat onto the cobblestones, the sound sharp in the relative quiet. "That's not a clan, that's a campfire waiting for the wind to snuff it out."
Moments later, they turned a corner. Another sight awaited them, a wealthy clan's towering building that dwarfed everything around it.
Guards in polished armor stood at attention, their weapons gleaming with runic enhancements. Banners glowed with authority, displaying symbols that commanded respect.
A long line of cultivators stretched toward its gates, each one hoping to be admitted. Their faces bore expressions of hope mixed with desperate need.
Elara's lips pressed thin as she observed the stark contrast. The difference was like night and day.
Draven sneered, voice dripping with disdain. "See the difference? One starving, the other overflowing."
"That's clans. Always has been." His scarred features twisted with bitter knowledge earned through experience.
"Crystals," Septimus said softly, his staff tapping against the stone. "Scrolls, Cultivation grounds and Protection."
"These are what clans provide in exchange for loyalty and labor. If we have these, even with a common specialty, the clan can last generations. But without them, no one stays."
"That is why the empires are not ruled by individuals, but by webs of clans."
Silence pressed on them again, heavier than before. Everyone realized it, just having a Stellar Stage wasn't enough.
They needed their own specialty, and if the specialty was something common, then they needed resources and also needed to build a reputation.
Everything would take decades or centuries.
Kael's shoulders sagged slightly as the magnitude of their task became clear.
Septimus stopped at the edge of another wide avenue, turning to face them. His eyes softened, though his voice stayed steady.
"Do not let this crush you. You've just stepped into the galaxy."
His staff struck the stone once more, the sound echoing off nearby walls. "Remember this. No tree grows in a single night."
"To plant a clan is to plant a forest. And forests… are watered with centuries."