Chapter 59: The Rapid Infantry

"Hmm? It seems like I have another way to get soldiers!" Rynar pondered for a moment, then realized—how could he forget that he had a system shop! 

The only problem was that everything there was ridiculously expensive... so Rynar rarely ever bothered to look at it since it was basically window-shopping for him.

"Open the shop!" Rynar quietly commanded the system.

Whoosh! A light screen that only Rynar could see unfolded before his eyes.

"Damn it! It's all amazing stuff!" Rynar almost drooled in disbelief.

"Item 1: Flame Dragon Rider General: Tier 5! Quantity: 1. Price: 1 million wealth points."

"Item 2: Light Sage: Quantity: 2. Price: 800,000 wealth points."

"Item 3: Time-Space Annihilation Forbidden Scroll: Tier: Grand Forbidden Spell! Uses: 2. Quantity: 1. Price: 1 million wealth points."

...

"Emm, they're all great items! But what can a poor guy like me with only 400,000 wealth points even afford?" Rynar suddenly understood the feeling of a hero being stopped by a lack of money.

"Item 12: The Half-Damaged Rapid Infantry Legion! Description: This was originally a full-strength Rapid Infantry Legion, but after facing various natural and man-made disasters, only 1,500 soldiers remain. Discounted price: 300,000 wealth points!"

"What the hell? System, you planned this, didn't you? You set the price to match my balance exactly!" Rynar's face turned green as he did the math.

"Come on! 200 wealth points per soldier? Are you robbing me?" Rynar quickly made an excuse to Elandor and dashed back to his tent, where he started arguing with the system.

"Wasn't it 5 wealth points for a soldier in the past?" Rynar vaguely remembered the old prices.

"Take it or leave it! Haven't you heard of inflation?" the system finally responded, coolly.

"You're taking advantage of a national crisis!" Rynar now had a much deeper understanding of how shameless the system could be.

"..."

The system played dead.

"Damn it! I'll buy it!" Rynar, thinking about his underpowered army, clenched his teeth, slapped the table, and made the purchase.

Shing! Rynar's wealth points shrank rapidly until he was left with only 100,000.

"Whatever! For these lifesaving troops, I'll endure it!" Rynar sighed. 

Even if they were just light infantry, he would have bought them. He desperately needed soldiers! These 1,500 troops would be enough to get his war effort going.

"Marcus is going to be thrilled!" Rynar thought. 

After all, Marcus, the commander of Zaltarion City's defenses, was once known as an impenetrable fortress of a man. 

His understanding and command of infantry were practically an art form. 

With this Rapid Infantry Legion, Marcus could truly shine. Rynar suspected that city defense battles, rather than open-field skirmishes with orcs, would dominate the upcoming southern war.

Rynar walked over to a corner of the tent where a simple map centered around Riverguard was laid out. 

The terrain features, mountain heights, and other things not represented on regular maps were clearly marked. 

Rynar looked at the two cities standing at the mouth of Long Lake, feeling increasingly uncertain about the coming war.

"I've gathered all the allies I could find and summoned every soldier I could. If we still can't win..." Rynar rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of it all.

"My lord! Sir Elandor has left," Caslow said as he lifted the tent flap and entered.

"Yeah, he needs to hold down the fort over there," Rynar waved him off, unconcerned.

"My lord, I didn't know you had a Forbidden Scroll! Why didn't you use it earlier? I just saw Lord Radir brooding at home, muttering to himself," Caslow asked curiously. 

Thinking about Radir's defeated expression, Caslow couldn't help but chuckle.

"Uh, well, that scroll was buried at the bottom of my stuff. I only just remembered I had it," Rynar quickly made up an excuse.

"Right, makes sense. With all the heirlooms passed down through the generations, it wouldn't be easy to find," Caslow filled in the blanks for himself.

"..."

Rynar's lips twitched. Heirlooms? It was all from that shameless system! 

Every time Rynar signed in, it was a gamble—he even got Durex once... what was he supposed to do with that? It was unsettling... (Ahem, getting off track!)

"By the way, how's your injury?" Rynar asked with concern. 

After all, Caslow, a third-tier knight, had gone head-to-head with a fifth-tier warlord. 

If it weren't for Vanervi going berserk thanks to the pull of Manikati, Rynar figured they'd all be laying flowers at his grave right now instead of having a conversation.

"I'm fine! Just needed a day of rest, it was just a small wound!" Caslow dismissed it like it was nothing.

Rynar couldn't help but feel envious. That's what happens when you're bonded to a dragon—the recovery rate was just like one.

"King Rynar! Huh? Caslow? You're here too?" Vanervi peeked into the tent, surprised to see Caslow there. "You healed that fast?"

"Yes, Lord Vanervi, I'm fine now," Caslow gave a respectful bow. After all, Vanervi wasn't just a sixth-tier powerhouse but also the future king of the elves!

"What's up, Lord Vanervi?" Rynar still addressed him as "lord," as Vanervi hadn't yet donned a crown or founded his kingdom, making it improper to call him king.

"I just came to check on you! And to thank you for your help," Vanervi said gratefully. 

Without the Elven Holy Sword Manikati that Rynar had given him, he would've been dead for sure.

"No need to thank me. Didn't you also save Caslow's life?" Rynar waved it off. 

Manikati was just a decoration in his hands, but he hadn't expected it to help forge a new elven king! 

No wonder it was called the Sword of Flames—its power even transformed its wielder's attributes and boosted their tier.

"But I still have to thank you." Vanervi gave a deep bow.

"No need for formalities. Helping you also helps ourselves," Rynar said nonchalantly.

"So, what's your plan now?" Rynar was curious about Vanervi's next move. 

The prairie elves were few in number, and with Vanervi already at the sixth tier, there weren't many places they couldn't go. 

Whether they moved west across the Misty Mountains or north to the Grey Mountains, Vanervi had the strength to lead them safely. Such was the power of a sixth-tier professional.

"If you want to take your people and leave, the orcs won't be able to stop you," Rynar said, sensing Vanervi's silence. 

The prairie elves were much stronger now, and Azog and Bolg, no matter how brain-dead, wouldn't sacrifice their soldiers against a near-elf-king.

"I plan to stay and help you," Vanervi finally said after a long pause. 

The prairie elves were not an ungrateful people—on the contrary, they were passionate and straightforward, far different from typical elves.

"Then you are most welcome! If we survive this battle... I'll make sure I'm there to watch you crowned king of the prairie elves," Rynar smiled sincerely. 

Friendships between kings were simple, weren't they?

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