Cohen's smile froze on his face.
"Lord Klein, three thousand Golden Suns... that price is simply too high. While the vines' effects are astonishing, it is ultimately a new product untested by the market. The risk is enormous. Besides, that much money could buy a small town with a port in the southern territories."
Velin, holding his water cup, glanced at him impassively. "Risk? Steward Cohen, you only see the risk, but you don't see the profits behind it, profits sufficient to overturn the entire construction industry?"
"My lord, I represent the Golden Sail Commerce Association and must be responsible for the association's interests. A flat price of three thousand Golden Suns... I can't justify that to my superiors."
'These merchants,' Velin sneered inwardly. 'They never act without seeing a reward.'
He set down his cup. "It seems the Golden Sail Commerce Association lacks sincerity. Fine. The Haidi Duchy doesn't have just one commerce association. The Blackrock Hand Commerce Association specializes in ore, and the Azure Gold Commerce Association focuses on stonemasons. I imagine they would be more interested in my technology."
He had thought these words would make the other man nervous and create a bidding war.
To his surprise, Cohen was stunned. He looked at Velin with a bewildered expression. "Lord Klein, why would you say such a thing? In the Haidi Duchy, every major commerce association has a great noble backing it; they carved up the market long ago. Stone Heart only deals in ore and transport, and Azure Gold only deals with the stonemason's guild. They only want to protect their monopoly profits and wouldn't risk a single coin on an innovative product!"
"Lord Klein, only our Golden Sail Commerce Association, only our President Caroline, is keen on such things! You came to us for this deal not because we are the best choice, but because we are your *only* choice!"
'A miscalculation.' Velin admitted to himself that he had underestimated the commercial barriers of this world and overestimated the boldness of these old powers.
The bidding advantage he had tried to create was effortlessly dismantled by the other man's words.
No emotion showed on Velin's face, but his mind was racing. "Then... what about the Casson Alliance? They're a commerce association that deals in timber, aren't they?"
The expression on Cohen's face froze.
Velin pressed his advantage. "What I'm selling has never been just vines, but an opportunity. An opportunity for you, a mere steward of a small branch, to leap into prominence as an honored guest at the Golden Sail Commerce Association headquarters. Three thousand Golden Suns. That price is non-negotiable. Take it back and show it to someone who can make the decision."
Cohen suddenly felt the blood rush to his head. His eyes became bloodshot, and his heart pounded wildly. He understood. Velin was right. This wasn't just an opportunity for the association; it was a chance for him, Cohen, to soar! This was a win-win!
"I... I understand! I'll get on it at once!"
Cohen left, filled with ambition. The three-thousand-Golden-Sun offer, like a divine decree, would burn in the steward's heart until the moment he reached the headquarters of the Golden Sail Commerce Association.
Velin, however, couldn't be bothered to give him a second glance.
Business was a minor matter. There was a more important problem now.
He walked toward the building being used as a warehouse. Barrett and old Walker were already waiting there. The former looked grim, the latter a bit nervous—Velin had taken an interest in cultivating the hunter who had performed so well in the defensive battle.
"My lord."
Velin nodded to them and led the two men straight into the depths of the warehouse.
The thick, mixed smell of blood and coarse salt assaulted their nostrils. In the center of the warehouse, the skinned corpse of a Gray Swamp Giant Crocodile lay on an oilcloth, its pale white fat and dark red muscle starkly contrasted as they wrapped around the skeleton.
"My lord, why did you call us here?" old Walker asked, confused by the bloody scene.
Velin circled the corpse, finally stopping at the crocodile's back. "Don't speak of today's matter to anyone." He extended a finger, pointing to an inconspicuous spot.
"Barrett, come here."
The experienced guard captain immediately stepped forward, and his signature thick brows furrowed.
It was a gruesome wound—a circular hole nearly the width of a bowl that had cleanly pierced straight through the crocodile's thick back muscles from top to bottom.
"We didn't do this." His voice was a bit hoarse. "Our heavy crossbows couldn't possibly inflict this kind of injury... unless some lunatic jumped off the wall holding a lance, which is obviously impossible."
"Could it have been the horn of a Rock-Breaking Rhinoceros?" Barrett subconsciously suggested.
"No." Velin immediately dismissed the idea, as calm as if he were delivering a lab report. "A rhinoceros attacks by charging and goring. The wound would have tearing marks, and the angle would be from the bottom up, or straight through horizontally. But this one,"
He traced the edge of the wound with his finger, not quite touching it. "Look, the edges are perfectly smooth, as if it were pierced by some enormous spike, without any excess tissue damage."
Old Walker leaned in closer. He reached out to touch it, but his fingers jerked back when they were still inches from the wound.
"And the angle..." Velin's gaze sharpened. "Straight down. More importantly, look at this piercing wound. It luckily missed the spinal column and also happened to avoid any vital organs. That's how it was able to continue attacking our camp with an injury like this."
Barrett, a veteran who had lived on the knife's edge for years, instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, only to grasp at empty air. He then remembered he had unequipped his weapons upon entering the warehouse. His large, calloused hand clenched awkwardly at his empty hip.
"Then the most likely possibility is that it was already injured."
Velin paced as he thought.
"And with an open wound like this, even if it didn't hit any internal organs, it wouldn't have survived for long. Infection would only be a matter of time..."
Having been a hunter for many years, old Walker's head snapped up, his gaze meeting Velin's.
"They were attacked in their own lair?" He trembled. "So... they were... driven out?"
A Level 3 Magical Beast, driven out of its own territory by something.
"Based on the current deductions, that is the most likely possibility," Velin's voice remained calm.
His gaze swept over the two men as he asked, word by word, "Barrett, you've participated in large-scale wars. What is the highest-level Magical Beast you've ever seen?"
Barrett took a deep breath, his one eye aching faintly. "Level 4... It was a tyrannical Earth-Shaking Bear. We had a hundred-man heavy infantry unit, and just being grazed by the shockwave of its charge resulted in over thirty of our brothers dead or wounded. That thing... we couldn't even get within a hundred paces of it."
"Could that Earth-Shaking Bear do this?" Velin asked, pointing at the hole in the corpse.
Barrett's head shook like a rattle drum, his face pale. "Impossible. Although an Earth-Shaking Bear is stronger than a Gray Swamp Giant Crocodile, it couldn't win with a single, decisive blow. The crocodile might be smashed to a pulp, but it wouldn't be left with a clean wound like this."
The air in the warehouse grew heavy.
Old Walker's lips trembled. He tried to speak but no sound came out, his eyebrows twisting into a knot.
Barrett's chestplate rose and fell sharply. As a veteran Mercenary, he knew better than anyone what this implied.
He struggled to raise his head and look at Velin. His gaze no longer held the reverence one shows a lord, but was instead like that of a drowning man looking at his only straw.
"My lord..." His voice was incredibly strained, as if each word was being forced through clenched teeth. "If... if a Magical Beast did this, then its level... is most likely..."
"Level 5," Velin finished for his subordinate, his voice calm.
Level 5.
It was as if the words had taken physical form, hanging in the air between the three of them—something none of them wanted to look at, yet couldn't look away from.
Old Walker muttered to himself, "Level 5... a Magical Beast on the same level as a young dragon..."
Barrett stared at Velin—the lord to whom he had sworn fealty, the man who had just worked a miracle.
But in that moment, all the joy of their victory, all their hopes for the future, were devoured by the unknown terror brought by this single piercing wound.
He struggled to ask a single question.
"My lord... maybe we should just run."