Point of View: Primordial Merchant
The bar was more crowded than usual.
It wasn't just the number of customers.
It was how long they stayed.
Before, they would arrive, consume, and leave. Information was exchanged quickly, directly, without deviation. Only what was necessary for conquest—nothing more.
Now, they lingered.
"We still need two more," someone said from a nearby table. "I'm not entering the dungeon without a full group."
"We're already five," another replied. "But we haven't decided roles yet."
"Then you're not ready."
That kind of conversation repeated throughout the entire establishment.
Incomplete groups. Discussions. Planning.
The change was evident.
Before, conversations revolved around conquest routes, resource distribution, or reinforcements needed in other worlds. Everything had a clear purpose.
Now…
It didn't.
"The system only showed information for the first five floors," one commented. "We don't know what's deeper."
"Better," another replied. "Makes it more interesting."
Interesting.
That word kept appearing.
Too often.
Plates arrived at the tables, prepared by primordial medics. No one ate in silence. Even eating had become part of preparation.
"This should help stabilize my energy," one said, observing his meal. "If the fights are continuous, I'll need it."
"I bought an elixir," another replied. "Faster to use."
The resources hadn't changed.
Their purpose had.
Before, they were for enduring prolonged wars.
Now…
For immediate performance in combat.
At another table, the conversation shifted.
"Are you signing up for the arena?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"At first. I want to understand how it works."
"That's risky."
"That's why it's worth it."
Again.
Interest.
There was no necessity. No obligation.
Just pure interest.
I lowered my gaze and continued writing.
Longer stay duration in establishments. Active group formation. Consumption oriented toward immediate preparation. Interest in individual performance.
Conquests were predictable.
This wasn't.
Another group spoke in lower voices.
"If you stand out in the arena, you enter the rankings."
"And that gives you visibility."
"And opportunities."
That was new as well.
They weren't just seeking power anymore.
They wanted recognition.
I closed the notebook for a moment.
There was no need to observe further to understand it.
This didn't replace conquests.
But it was changing how they prepared…
And why.
Later, I would send the report to the Arcadia Council.
As always.
It wasn't an obligation.
But it was necessary.
Point of View: Primordial Blacksmith
The requests changed.
Not gradually.
Immediately.
"I need something lighter."
I didn't even look up.
"Dungeon?"
"Yes."
Expected.
I set aside the piece I was working on and checked what I had available.
"How many in your group?"
"Five."
"Role."
Silence.
I looked up.
"If you don't know your role, you don't know what you need."
He hesitated.
Another voice spoke from behind.
"He'll be the tank."
I nodded.
"Then you don't need the heaviest armor. You need to endure without becoming slow."
I pulled out a mid-weight piece.
"This. Less weight, enough resistance. It won't slow you down."
He took it without arguing.
It hadn't been like this before.
Before, everyone came with a clear idea—equipment for long wars, constant attrition, absolute endurance.
Now…
"I want something that lets me finish fights quickly," another customer said.
"Durability?"
"Don't care."
I tossed him a weapon without hesitation.
"Then use that."
No explanation needed.
If they wanted speed, they sacrificed durability.
Simple.
The requests continued throughout the day.
Lighter. Faster. More specific.
And something else.
"We need full equipment for three."
That became common.
Before, I sold individual pieces.
Now, I sold sets.
"He's a warrior. I'm the medic. He's a mage," one said, pointing at his group. "We need everything to fit together."
That was new.
Synergy.
Not just surviving battles—
But coordinating properly.
I placed both hands on the table and looked at them.
Then I asked the only thing that mattered.
"If you don't know how you fight together, equipment won't fix it."
They exchanged uncertain glances.
"Then test that first. Come back after."
They didn't argue.
They left.
Good.
Less useless work.
Sales had increased.
But not just in quantity.
In type.
Before, the biggest demand came from conquests.
Entire armies preparing. Heavy equipment, durable, built to last.
That still existed.
But it was no longer the main focus.
The dungeon was generating more movement than expected.
Not because it was necessary.
Because they wanted to enter.
That was the problem.
Or the opportunity.
The next customer placed a full set of equipment on the table.
"I want to modify it."
I examined it.
Too heavy.
"Not suitable for dungeon use."
"I know."
"Then it's not modified. It's replaced."
"Do it."
I nodded.
"I'll take this as partial payment."
No further explanation needed.
The pattern was clear.
Less durability. More efficiency. More specialization.
I looked at the constant flow of customers.
The city was still the same.
A place to prepare, to grow stronger, to advance.
But now…
It was also a place where they wanted to test themselves.
Measure themselves.
Stand out.
And that was generating more movement than any conquest ever had.
As I watched them, a thought crossed my mind.
What kind of beings will truly stand out?
A faint smile formed as I murmured—
"It'll be interesting… when they carry the weapons I forged and become famous…"
That might earn me a name among blacksmiths…
…Or perhaps I expect too much.