The event that just happened reached its end. Quagmire finally breathed a sigh of relief as he brought his pistol and rifle back to his spatial inventory. He raised his hand and stared at it; it was dirty. Even his body was covered in dirt and grime, and a little blood was splattered all over it.
Throwing a glance at the dead giant, he cringed at the thought of a living being as big as that, with so many limbs that could automatically detect danger and compensate for it. It was like having a built-in automated defense system, which was a very terrifying thing to think about.
With that in mind, he pushed the thought back, as he needed to look at the notifications. He pulled up the notification bar with the icon of a mail and viewed the messages.
[Five Lower-Rank Ghouls Were Slain. Granting Five Hundred Coins. A Hundred Each Kill][A Lower-Rank Fat Man Was Slain, Granting Five Hundred Coins][A Total of a Thousand Gold Coins Was Granted]
Upon seeing the contents of the message, he was extremely delighted that he earned money just by doing that, and also by the fact that his theory was confirmed: any living being he killed would earn him money. It's just that he needed to try it on the sentient civilization that lived in this world to finally put the theory into further confirmation.
He closed the notification bar and pulled up his spatial inventory to confirm the rewards. Now, from having two thousand five hundred gold coins left, he now had three thousand six hundred gold coins, which was not a lot, now that he considered the method he needed to earn money.
Unfortunately, his current problem was the fact that his firearms were too loud, so he decided to check the upgrade shop to find something that could silence or suppress his firearms.
After all, the system had already shown much more advanced stuff than this, meaning a simple silencer or suppressor could have existed. Upon pulling up the upgrade shop—or center, which sounded much better—he was extremely delighted by the myriad amount of technology. Unfortunately, he did not have much in funds, as some items cost millions to billions and even trillions of gold coins—such was the hardship of an economy.
He moved the view to where the attachments were placed and saw the section where the silencers were. He clicked the first version; it cost a thousand gold coins for the pistol and another hundred for the rifle. There was also a variable silencer, which allowed him to adjust the attachment to fit any firearm, just not a shotgun.
It made more sense to choose the variable one, so he bought it, and it was immediately placed in his supplies store. Unfortunately, he felt that the first version was not enough and brought up its next form. The M2 Silencer—or version—was much more updated than the M1 Silencer.
It cost him two thousand gold coins, and he bought it almost immediately; getting a silencer was much more necessary than having to fight dozens of ghouls. After all, he only encountered six ghouls—one was a fat man, as the system called it. What if he encountered dozens, if not hundreds, of Fatmen? Or worse, a thousand ghouls? After all, the sound of a gunshot could travel up to a few kilometers—worse, more if the condition was right.
With those upgrades, he brought up the supplies store and saw that it cost five hundred gold for the M2 Silencer, and for the M1 Silencer, it was one hundred fifty. The difference was shocking, but he needed it; the silencer was also more expensive than the firearms. Maybe the first versions were to help him? He did not know. What he did know was that everything would get much more expensive, as he saw that there were items in the upgrade store that required trillions of gold.
How many must he kill to earn a trillion? Maybe there were higher-rank ghouls, as a lower-rank Fatman gave him five hundred. That meant things would become harder and more difficult as the level rose. The thought of it gave him chills. Fortunately, by that time, he would have an army.
After purchasing the M2 Silencer, it appeared in his spatial inventory, but he did not bring it out, as he had already put his firearms in the inventory. Now he had a measly hundred gold coins—unless he missed all the shots he was going to fire. Then that would mean he was not fit for this. Otherwise, he should be all right for the time being.
Pushing back all the other thoughts that did not need much significance, he looked over his grimy and bloody body. It was disgusting, the smell was awful, and the dirt could give him an infection. His poor Excalibur was out, exposed in the air. His poor family jewel had dirt on it; it might give him a disease of any sort.
With that in mind, he hurriedly moved onto the riverbank. He glanced further beyond the water, trying to see if there were more of those algae or not. Upon seeing that there were none, he calmly dipped his toes and eventually submerged himself. He felt refreshed and relieved as the cold water flowed around his body, washing all the dirty stuff away.
He cleansed his body, and when he was done, he moved out of the water and onto the land. Afterward, he brought his clothes, but first, he moved away from the area where he fought earlier, as the stench was too much, and there might be more ghouls coming in—something he did not want to fight once again, as he had just taken a bath.
With the clothes neatly lined up in front of him, he saw that his body was wet, and he did not have a towel—something he forgot to add. Well, he made it with the mind of a soldier going into the open battlefield. Such luxuries were a rarity. Nevertheless, with only one hundred gold, he could not buy new clothes, but he made sure to edit it and add a towel.
Thus, he finally began to wear his new uniform.