Inside the dimly lit "Everything is Recyclable" shop, the old Elf wore a pair of Rune glasses. Holding a ruler, he meticulously measured a pile of dust-covered ancient parts on the counter.
"The alloy formula for these transmission shafts has been lost. Although their precision has degraded, melting them down will yield a good amount of Thorium," the shop owner muttered, jotting down notes in a black notebook like a miser counting his pennies.
Allen sat on a high stool across from him, toying with a scrapped ancient core. His expression was calm, but he was mentally calculating his repair checklist. PX-0's left arm needed recasting, its armor required repairs, and the Spider Slayer needed a battery replacement...
"A total of four thousand, two hundred Magic Stones." The shop owner took off his glasses and rubbed his slightly red eyes. "Young man, I'm already paying a premium. After all, apart from smelting, these things only hold collection value."
