Leo stepped into the tent and glanced over Akara's wares—staves that boosted skills, each priced absurdly high, along with some scrolls and potions.
He pulled out a Minor Healing Potion and a Minor Mana Potion, handing them over.
"Please, Lady Akara, appraise these."
Her expression shifted slightly as she accepted them.
"These Minor Potions… I cannot yet craft them. But if I had enough samples to study, perhaps soon the Rogue Encampment could produce them as well."
Leo let out a quiet breath of relief. Interest was good—disinterest would have been a disaster. He set the rest of the potions on the table.
Akara saw his intent, realizing this wasn't simple.
"Warrior, if you have proposals, speak freely. The encampment will always remember those who aid us."
Leo placed the Small Charm he had found earlier onto the table.
"Lady Akara, I need charms like this. My party can supply excess Minor Potions, and maybe stronger ones in the future. In exchange, I hope we can obtain charms that can be carried in inventory."
Akara smiled faintly. "Indeed, charms are an excellent way to increase strength in the early stages. Rogues cannot use them, lacking inventory space. Still, when defending this camp, many sisters fell, and such items do exist here. Though adventurers rarely sell them, the camp has some in reserve.
If you require them, I can make the trade: three Minor Healing or two Minor Mana Potions for one Small Charm. Four Healing or three Mana for one Medium Charm. Six Healing or four Mana for one Large Charm."
Leo then brought out two Rejuvenation Potions.
"And these, Lady Akara?"
She lifted one, the purple liquid like a nebula swirling with countless silver sparks. Her voice trembled.
"With Rejuvenation Potions… one may be traded for three Small Charms, or two Medium, or one Large.
And if your party can continue to supply them, once our camp masters their production, one percent of the pure profits from sales over the next five years will go to your party."
Leo hadn't expected such generosity. He eagerly exchanged all of his potions for charms, walking away with seventeen in total.
Among them:
* Small Charm of Strength (Sea Blue): +5% Poison Resist, +1 Strength — eleven pieces.
* Small Charm of Strength (Reddish): +5% Fire Resist, +1 Strength — six pieces.
Sliding the trinkets into his inventory, his Strength jumped to 81, Dexterity to 58—on par with a level 30 character.
Since the Blood Moor's ranged monsters relied on poison, and he now had 15% Poison Resist, he was far safer. Pity the camp's stock had run dry, or he would've maxed the resistance.
Now he could fight the Blood Moor's regular monsters head-on.
Satisfied, Leo bid Akara farewell and returned to join the two women at the tavern. Over food, they discussed their plans.
Potions were no longer scarce; they even had surplus for trade. Gold was plentiful too—besides monster drops, they had sold a pile of white gear. Leo set aside 6,000 coins as a logistics fund under Gotti's care, and the rest—another 6,000—was split evenly among the three.
Drinking ale, enjoying the lively atmosphere, Leo ate contentedly.
Then a young barbarian approached, nervously greeting Gotti with great respect. Leo chuckled—it was like a lumbering bear bowing to a trainer.
But the next moment the barbarian slammed the table. Cups jumped, ale splashed into Leo's lap.
Maijessie sprang up like a startled cat, dagger in hand—the unique Gull glinting dangerously.
The barbarian froze at the sight of the dark-gold weapon, avoiding her eyes. Still, he glared at Leo with raw hatred, as if Leo had cuckolded him.
Leo calmly pushed his plate aside, laid his hand on the table, and gave him a look: Come on, if you're a real man, arm wrestle me.
The commotion silenced the tavern, then the drunks roared encouragement.
"Do it!"
"Whoever backs down is no son of mine!"
"Hah! That barbarian's got less spine than my grandma's cat!"
Red-faced, the barbarian sat across from Leo, towering over him, his arm thicker than Leo's thigh. The crowd howled in excitement.
Their hands locked. The barbarian's expression shifted like stage masks—first full of confidence, then startled by Leo's equal strength, then straining red with full effort while Leo remained unmoving. Finally, Leo squeezed. A sharp crack, and with a slam he forced the barbarian's twisted arm down.
The tavern fell silent.
Leo looked at the young man curled on the floor clutching his arm. "Not bad, kid." He tossed him a Minor Healing Potion. "Drink it. Stand and talk."
The barbarian took it with his left hand, bit the cap off, and downed it. His right arm straightened, whole again.
He stood defiant. "Even if you heal me, I'll never thank you. From the moment you accepted Sister Gotti into your party, you became the enemy of the Barbarian tribe."
Leo stared, dumbfounded. What twisted cub logic was this?
Gotti burst out laughing, her voice sharp. "Thrall! You little punks left me out of your parties, forcing me to beg others. Now that I've found a team, you want to wreck it? Tired of living, are you?"
Thrall stiffened. Childhood fear washed over him. He stood ramrod straight, head bowed, arms clamped to his sides like a scolded child.
"B-big sister… don't interfere. Our business with you is one thing. Our business with him is another." His volume rose, voice booming so loudly Leo's ears rang.
He shot Leo a fierce glare. "You won this time. But it's not over." With that he ran off, the other barbarians scattering behind him.
Leo rubbed his temples. Watching them run off, he felt like what they carried away was his lost youth.
After the interruption, the three lost interest in revelry and retired early.
Back at the tent, Leo sat reflecting. His strength felt unruly—he'd only meant to give Thrall a scare, yet had snapped his arm instead. He used meditation to adjust, trying to adapt to his sudden surge of power.
Maijessie quietly meditated by the fire.
Gotti, meanwhile, bustled around the camp, buying supplies for tomorrow.
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