Chapter 2377 Show Mercy
Chapter 2377 Show Mercy
Date: Unspecified Time: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Lil. Red Storm, Seed World, Trophy Section, Duel Realm, Crafting Sector "It doesn't matter what they're up to," Wyatt said confidently, his tone laced with assurance. "I've thoroughly mined the Orbiumite ore from that mine. If they want it, they'll have to negotiate with me. Otherwise, I'll start flooding the inter-realm network with it at dirt-cheap prices. And if push comes to shove, I'll sell the whole lot to the devil merchant code for pennies on the dollar." He leaned back, giving Biore a calm but firm look, clearly indicating he had the situation under control.
Now that he knew the Ironhold family was after his Orbiumite ore mine, pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. It explained why Bigold had reacted so strongly to the ore. The Ironhold family clearly needed it, though their reasons remained shrouded in mystery.
What Wyatt couldn't quite wrap his head around was why they were so fixated on the mine from which his Orbiumite ore was mined from. With their influence and wealth, they could easily acquire another Orbiumite ore mine. Yet, for some reason, they had set their sights on his. Could it be because the Orbiumite from his mine had a sturdier, more natural shell compared to what was commonly available in the market? But as far as Wyatt knew, that feature didn't play a significant role in crafting applications. The Ironhold family's peculiar interest in his ore continued to baffle him.
"If you've mined the ore completely, the Ironhold family has no choice but to negotiate with you for whatever stock you've stored in your warehouse," Biore remarked thoughtfully. He nodded, clearly agreeing with Wyatt's assessment. "Without any ore left in the mine, they can't rely on underhanded tactics to figure out its location anymore to steal it." After a moment of contemplation, Biore added, "Master Crafter, if I'm not mistaken, you're probably looking for buyers for your Orbiumite stock. Why not sell to the Ironhold family? They need it more than anyone else and would likely pay a premium for it. I could open discussions with them if you'd like."
Wyatt narrowed his eyes slightly, considering Biore's suggestion. "They're interested in my Orbiumite ore, sure," he replied after a pause, "but that doesn't mean they're interested in buying it outright. Still, they're scholars, not bandits. Go ahead and feel them out, but don't make any commitments without my approval," he cautioned, his tone firm yet measured. Despite seeing the logic in Biore's reasoning, Wyatt couldn't shake the concern that the Ironhold family might be willing to resort underhanded methods. However, he wasn't worried because he had Clown Mask. "Thank you. I won't let you down," Biore said, his voice weighted with determination, as if this task were a test of his worth to Wyatt.
Wyatt shook his head lightly and waved a hand dismissively. "No, you don't need to waste your time on that. I've got other employees who can handle it. Just figure out if the Ironhold family's even open to the idea. They'll take care of the rest. Got it?" He gave Biore a reassuring nod before adding, "Alright, let's head to the inter-realm city. We'll meet at the fountain and go to warehouse from there."
The others nodded in agreement, and together they entered the inter-realm network. They regrouped at the fountain near the entrance of the sector DS0909 before making their way to Wyatt's workshop in the Chaos Dwarven Sector.
When Wyatt stepped inside the workshop, he noticed it was completely empty—and that the due fines had been paid in full. After all, after losing the duel Bigold had been left with no choice but to honor the wager.
Surveying the cramped workshop, Wyatt finally understood why Bigold had resorted to an automated array formation to handle customers and sell his items. With such limited space, Bigold had clearly tried to be innovative but had chosen greed over quality. Instead of setting up array that gave premium customer service, he had stuck with a flawed rudimentary system that had cost him in the long run.
"You two find something to keep yourselves busy while I talk with Moon," Wyatt said, gesturing for Biore and Dulas to step away. He could tell Moon had been sticking close to him for a reason—there was something she needed from him, something she couldn't achieve without his help.
Moon, however, gave a small, knowing smile and shook her head. "Master Crafter, I'd rather they stay. If this goes the way I think it will, we'll all be colleagues soon." She glanced at Biore and Dulas, signaling for them to stay and listen.
Wyatt raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her confidence. Folding his arms, he nodded. "Alright, then. Let's hear it."
"Master Crafter, I'll be straight with you," Moon said, her expression serious, her voice steady despite the gravity of her words. "I want you to use your unique craft print for the Frosling corpse puppet to modify the Frosling race's traditional method of upgrading their demon core into a titled demon core—'Frosell.' Can you do it?"
Wyatt folded his arms as he considered her request. "I can," he replied, his tone calm but probing. "But can you afford that?" He arched an eyebrow, knowing full well the value of his craft print. It was already priceless, and creating a titled demon core method derived from it—even if only as a modification of an existing one—would only elevate its worth further.
Moon hesitated for a moment, her sharp eyes softening. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and lowered herself to her knees, her head bowed in submission. "Master Crafter, you're right. I can't afford it. But I'm prepared to sell myself to you." Her voice wavered slightly, but her resolve was clear. "I promise to willingly be your slave for the rest of my life—to serve you and guard you with my very life—if you'll help me with my request."
Wyatt's expression didn't change, but his gaze sharpened as he listened. Moon looked up at him, desperation flickering in her eyes. "I know the Frosling slaves aren't worth much in the market," she continued, her voice cracking under the weight of her plea. "Not even a tenth of what I'm asking from you. But I still hope you'll show mercy on my people."