Elian knew that raw power was only half the battle. In Aethelgard, the economy was the true shackle. To buy a Spatial-type beast, he didn't just need money; he needed a product that shouldn't exist.
"System," Elian sat at his small desk, surrounded by the remaining fragments of Metallic Beetle Cores and a handful of common Fire-Seeds. "Can the Matrix be used to fuse inorganic materials into a stable 'Refined Essence'?"
[Analyzing...]
[Confirmed. The Matrix can perform 'Material Synthesis.' By fusing low-grade cores into a singular substrate, you can create 'High-Purity Mana Alloys.']
[Current Recipe: 10 Metallic Beetle Cores + 5 Fire Seeds + 1 Silver Credit = 1 'Molten Steel Essence' (Silver Grade).]
Elian's eyes widened. A Silver-Grade material was worth five times its components because the refining process usually required a High-Rank Fire Beast and a Master Alchemist working for days. Elian could do it in seconds.
Elian didn't dare do this in the dorms. He returned to the abandoned kiln, the place where his journey began.
"Ignis, keep watch. If anyone comes within fifty paces, bark."
The fox huffed, its glowing eyes scanning the dark woods. Elian placed the materials in a circle on the stone floor. He held his breath and touched the center.
[Initiating Material Synthesis...]
[Catalyst Consumed: 1 Silver Credit.]
Instead of a beast evolution, the Matrix projected a concentrated beam of blue light into the pile. The beetle cores melted, but they didn't run like water. They swirled into a thick, mercury-like globule. The Fire-Seeds provided the heat, turning the mercury into a glowing, translucent slab of metal that hummed with a low frequency.
[Synthesis Successful: Produced 'Molten Steel Essence' (High-Purity).]
[Market Value: 12-15 Silver Credits.]
Elian picked up the slab. It was warm to the touch and incredibly dense. He repeated the process three more times until he was sweating and his mana was nearly tapped. In his bag, he now had four slabs of "impossible" metal.
The "Gutter" was the nickname for Oakhaven's undercity—a labyrinth of tunnels where the laws of the Academy didn't reach. Elian wore a heavy, grease-stained cloak and a mask he'd fashioned from beast-hide.
He entered a shop called 'The Rusty Anvil,' a place known for supplying rogue blacksmiths.
The smith, a dwarf-hybrid with a mechanical arm, didn't even look up. "We're closed for private commissions, kid. Beat it."
Elian didn't say a word. He placed one slab of the Molten Steel Essence on the counter.
The smith's hammer stopped mid-swing. He squinted, then reached out a calloused hand. He tapped the metal with a tuning fork. It sang a pure, melodic note that lasted ten seconds.
"Where did you get this?" the smith whispered, his demeanor shifting from annoyance to predatory interest. "This is Master-refined. There isn't a forge in this province that can bind fire-mana to beetle-steel this cleanly."
"I have three more," Elian said, his voice disguised. "I need fifty silver. Total."
The smith laughed, but it was a dry, nervous sound. "Kid, if I had fifty silver in cash, I'd be living in the Inner Circle. But I know who does. There's a Guild representative—The Iron Crown—looking for materials exactly like this to forge a suit for a Diamond-rank General."
He leaned in closer. "I'll take these four as a deposit and give you twenty silver now. I'll act as your broker. For the other thirty, you have to do something for the Iron Crown."
The Hidden ContractElian looked at the "Contract of Intent" the smith pushed toward him.
"They don't just want the metal," the smith explained. "They want the 'Recipe.' They want to know which beast produced this. They've deduced it's a fire-type with a high-purity compression skill."
Elian felt a chill. They were hunting for the source—for Ignis.
"The metal is all I'm selling," Elian said firmly, picking up the twenty silver. "Tell the Iron Crown that if they want more, they provide the raw materials and pay a 'Processing Fee' of ten silver per slab. No questions asked. No tracking."
"They won't like that," the smith warned. "They're used to owning the goose that lays the eggs."
"Then they don't get the eggs," Elian countered.
As he walked out of the shop, twenty silver richer but with a massive target on his back, the System chimed.
[Warning: Subliminal Tracking Spell detected on the Silver Coins.]
[Counter-Measures: The Matrix can 'Bleed' the tracking mana into Ignis as a snack. Proceed?]
"Do it," Elian muttered. "And System... prepare for the auction. We have the money. Now we just need to find the beast that can help us disappear."
He was playing a dangerous game. He was now an unlicensed manufacturer for the military, a "cheater" at the Academy, and a target for the Void-infected spies. But as he looked at Ignis, whose charcoal fur seemed to drink in the shadows of the alleyway, Elian felt a surge of cold confidence.
He wasn't just a student anymore. He was an anomaly.