Return Of The Strongest Player

"Could I help you?" The lime-colored man asked, peeling his eyes away from a screen, which was probably his status window. The lime-colored man, also named Ferhill Igueno, was a man obsessed with money.

His obsession rooted from his weakness, which Arthur had no qualms exploiting.

"Could you show me your top model for mana-supplying stones?" Arthur inquired, observing the items on display. The crimson-eyed man had no plans on buying, as he did not possess any more tokens.

Even if he did, Ferhill would be the last person the crimson-eyed man sought out for an actual purchase. Others might not be aware of it, but Ferhill's track record was horrendous. Most of his items were counterfeits.

Ferhill nodded, allowing a diplomatic and business-like smile to blossom on his face. He stood up, closing his status window with a swipe of his hand. Then, he approached the back of his store.

Hundreds of items lined the shelves. When Ferhill disappeared into the back room, Arthur began observing the items on display.

'This one has broken artificial mana channels,' thought Arthur, glancing at a silver rock the size of his palm. The number in front of the stone was astronomically high, yet the product was virtually useless.

If the mana channels of the rock were obstructed, one couldn't use it.

However, by setting such a high price on the item, Ferhill avoided buyers while building his credibility. Many customers/new players believed that high prices were equivalent to high quality.

But that wasn't the case.

The stronger players avoided stores in the Outer District, while the weaker players couldn't afford such items. However, as the weaker people glanced at the prices, a subconscious feeling of validity settled in their mind.

If an item was priced so high, the shopkeeper was certainly selling equally useful products, right?

Wrong.

The door to the back door opened, revealing Ferhill. His eyes contained blatant greed, while in his hand was a pitch black stone. The stone was the size of a pea, and could be mistaken for the button of a shirt.

But Ferhill treated it as if it were the holy grail.

With light footsteps and a gaze that focused on the stone, Ferhill calmly approached the crimson-eyed man. "This is a stone of obsidian, an amazing mana conductor found on the 63rd floor."

Arthur nodded. Ferhill smiled, explaining the origins of the stone.

He explained the climate of the floor on which the obsidian was located, the influence of clans on the particular floor, and, most importantly, how difficult it was to obtain the stone. He did so in order to inflate the price.

"You purchase it for a meager 35,000 tokens," Ferhill announced, smiling widely. Arthur scoffed internally. The price was not too expensive for an actual stone, but it was still a player's income after clearing 3-4, perhaps 7-8 of the bottom floors.

Purchasing it could help in the short-term, but one could simply increase their mana reserve by training, or purchase a better stone on higher floors. However, even that was only applicable when referring to an actual stone with the capabilities Ferhill described.

'But this stone is a counterfeit,' thought Arthur, smiling widely internally. 'It'd be useless for anyone above the fifth or, at max, tenth floor.'

It wasn't that Ferhill's product was absolutely useless, as even a regular player could easily discern a blatantly worthless item. The lime-haired man's product was simply not up to the standards that he described.

"Is that so, Ferhill?" Arthur asked, stroking his chin. At that moment, Ferhill's face paled.

"Who's Ferhill?" The man asked, looking around. His alias was "Edward Anderson," and since Ferhill was his true name, he refrained from distributing such information to others. Arthur couldn't describe the shock he must've felt.

'His heart probably dropped, hearing the name escaped someone else's lips,' Arthur thought, finally allowing a smile to blossom on his face (not internally).

"How's Lexi?" Arthur inquired, taking a seat. The chair creaked, supporting the crimson-eyed man's bodyweight. Ferhill's expression crumpled, and the fake smile he conjured faded. His complexion darkened.

Lexi was Ferhill's wife; his weakness.

Lexi was diagnosed with a chronic illness a few years ago, and was bedridden for the most part. Ferhill yearned to treat his wife, which was the reason behind his numerous scams. However, he did not have sufficient power to earn by clearing floors, or ally with a clan.

The latter option would simply be asking for betrayal.

One should never depend on someone if the other party wasn't dependent on them. Doing so was practically begging for betrayal, exploitation, or blackmail. Depending on a clan to provide money when one did not possess sufficient power was foolish.

Since that was the case, Ferill was forced to stoop to such lows, depending on scams and selling counterfeit products. His life fell apart after the diagnosis, forcing him to always be on the run, abandon his social life, and maintain his privacy.

If someone discovered the matter about his wife, it was over for him.

Unfortunately, the worst had finally occurred.

Ferhill felt like his world was spinning.

"How do you…"

"It doesn't matter, does it?" Arthur shot back, crossing his legs. His expression radiated confidence, and with a faint smirk on his face, Ferhill was forced to believe every single word that the crimson-eyed man uttered.

'I didn't want to stoop so low, but my financial situation isn't any better than his,' Arthur said internally. He wished to avoid the matter about Ferhill's familial situation, but he couldn't choose. Without tokens, life in Heaven's Spire was meaningless.

Before he attempted the first floor, Arthur wished to prepare extensively.

"What do you want?" Ferhill asked, crossing his arms. His mana permeated across the closed space, causing a stinging sensation to assault Arthur's skin. It was definitely uncomfortable, but nothing noteworthy.

'As expected, he's not completely worthless,' the crimson-eyed man noted. Ferhill's composure still hadn't crumbled. He was on his last legs.

Ferhill, at that point, was simply trying to convey that he wouldn't crumble without a fight, and to signal Arthur to move on to easier prey. A prey that resists is less beneficial than a prey who succumbs.

Not in enjoyment, but in terms of profit.

But Arthur wasn't one to withdraw so easily.

"I wish for us to become business partners."