Preparation!

After eliminating Old Man Mathews, the barrier that had previously blocked James vanished, leaving him with a sense of uneasy freedom.

He didn't linger in the now-quiet magic hall. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, he hurried out, his heart racing.

Once outside, he stepped into another magic shop just a short distance away. The air inside was filled with the scent of herbs and the faint shimmer of enchantments.

As he browsed, James couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability. He had no direct attack spells at his disposal. His only abilities were control skills like Fear and Straw Binding, and his Life Harvest technique could only be used on those whose life force had dipped below 20%. For far too long, he had relied solely on instinct, swinging the Scythe of Death like a crude weapon.

Determined to change his situation, he rummaged through his thoughts, finally deciding to invest the spirit crystals he had taken from Mathews. He approached the counter, his resolve firm.

"I'd like to buy two spells," he said, trying to sound confident. The shopkeeper, a stout man with keen eyes, looked up expectantly.

James selected two spells: 'Plunder', a single-target damage spell, and 'Gale', a group damage spell that unleashed a torrent of wind to wreak havoc across the battlefield.

To his surprise, the techniques weren't recorded in traditional books but were instead inscribed directly onto spirit crystals. The shopkeeper explained, "Just hold the crystal, focus your mind on it, and you'll absorb the technique."

James also noticed another spirit crystal containing a mental method called 'Spirit Art'. "This is the most basic mental method," the shopkeeper added, his voice filled with a mix of pride and caution. "It's easy to learn and can be adapted to other methods without conflict."

James felt a mix of relief and excitement. While these spells and methods weren't overly expensive, the total cost still exceeded 500 spirit crystals, a significant portion of his haul from Mathews's defeat.

After tucking the spells and Spirit art safely into his bag, James decided to seize the moment. He leaned closer to the shopkeeper, lowering his voice. "Boss, do you know where I can buy blood crystals?"

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed with interest, his expression shifting as if he had stumbled upon a particularly juicy piece of gossip. "Ah, you're new around here, aren't you? Let me fill you in. The Mercenary Association has a bit of a history with blood crystals. They were scarce at first, but not long ago, someone requested blood crystals from them, and suddenly they were everywhere in this cave."

He continued, his voice dripping with intrigue. "Initially, the Mercenary Association purchased them based on a reward system; one blood crystal for every spirit crystal by volume. But now, due to the flood of blood crystals and their limited use, mostly for healing potions; they've stopped buying them altogether. If you want to sell, you'd have to head up to a higher level. But wait, do you want to buy blood crystals? What on earth do you need them for?"

James's mind raced. If the boss's information was accurate, he could exchange his remaining spirit crystals for blood crystals at a 1:1 ratio, giving him roughly 20,000 life force points. That was enough to help him advance significantly.

"I have my reasons," he said, trying to sound casual. "Do you know anyone willing to sell blood crystals? I'm ready to trade some spirit crystals for them."

The shopkeeper studied James's face, weighing his sincerity before nodding slowly. "I might know a few people who are willing to part with them. Just be cautious; blood crystals can attract unwanted attention. Let me think, and I'll see what I can dig up."

Relief washed over James. This could be his chance to gather the power he needed to thrive in this treacherous world.

"Blood crystals? They're practically a dime a dozen around here! You could shout about them on the street, and someone would rush over to buy them," the shopkeeper chuckled, patting his belly with a hearty laugh. Then, leaning in closer to James, he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "But seriously, how many blood crystals are you looking to exchange?"

James spread his gloved hand, showing five fingers.

"Fifty?" The shopkeeper's eyes widened in disbelief. "How on earth can you trade for that many?"

James corrected him, speaking in a hushed tone. "No, I meant I want to exchange five hundred spirit crystals for them."

"What?!" The shopkeeper's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging and his beard twitching as he processed the request. "You want to trade five hundred spirit crystals for blood crystals? That's quite the haul you've got there!"

---

Later that evening, James stepped out of the shop with a sense of accomplishment. With the shopkeeper's extensive network, he had successfully exchanged his 500 spirit crystals for over 700 blood crystals, albeit with a hefty commission for the shopkeeper.

He patted the storage bag at his waist, feeling a rush of satisfaction.

"By the way, I need to report in," he suddenly recalled, remembering the city defense mission he had accepted. He glanced at the time and quickly made his way back to the Mercenary Association's mission hall.

As he entered, he spotted the man who had assisted him with his registration waving him over. "Hey, 3206! I've been waiting for you," the man called out, a smile on his face. "Now that you're here, we can head to the northern defense line. Over the next five days, everything you kill will belong to the association. Just make sure to bring your number tags back to me for your reward."

James scanned the room, noting that four other individuals had also taken the mission. One stood out as an upper F-grade, while the other three were mid F-grade.

As he studied them, he found that the upper-grade individual's presence didn't weigh on him like Mathews's had. Instead, his attention was drawn to a young man in an orange-red fighting suit, who radiated a vibrant energy.

The young man caught James's gaze and smiled, waving cheerfully.

James returned the gesture, feeling an inexplicable warmth emanating from him, as if he were standing next to a flickering flame.

"Everyone clear on the rules?" the guide asked, shifting his documents into a storage bag. "Just a reminder: the association only recognizes badges, not people. So guard yours closely; you wouldn't want someone else to take it."

As they began to walk, a mid-grade F-rank man brushed past James and sneered, "Look at you, a low-grade F-rank making us wait. You've got some nerve. I wonder how long you'll last here. Just make sure to protect your number plate; you might need your head to keep it safe."

James glanced at the guide, expecting a reaction, but the man didn't even flinch, as if such behavior was perfectly normal.

A smirk crept onto James's lips beneath his mask.

So, it's accepted that teammates can rob each other here, he mused. Having just come from a profitable encounter with Mathews, he found the idea rather appealing. In fact, he was almost looking forward to seeing what these mid-grade F-ranks might attempt.