No Money!

The incense in the tent seemed to grow even thicker.

Vivian sensed this was no ordinary opponent.

Though in terms of raw power, Angst, the dark elf, was likely a matron-like figure among her kind,

She paled in comparison to Vivian, both in status and sheer strength as a Demon Lord.

Yet Angst appeared utterly unpressured,

Casually lifting the hem of her skirt to offer a graceful curtsy.

“Angst, Chief Manager of the Goldmelt Caravan’s First Division, [Blade of Freedom], offers her highest respects to the Demon Lord.”

She dipped her head slightly, her golden eyes rising to meet Vivian’s violet demonic gaze without a hint of deference.

“…Vivian, Demon Lord of Evernight. This is my head maid, Aria. Thank you for your visit.”

After Angst introduced herself, Vivian nodded in acknowledgment,

Briefly introducing Aria as well.

What caught her off guard was that Angst bore the title [Blade of Freedom], not tied to any dark elf family.

The so-called Blade of Freedom referred to those who had broken from or been exiled by their clans.

Some chose to conceal their status, but for dark elves, where family ties were paramount,

Angst’s open declaration of her independence from any clan, representing only the caravan, was significant.

The drow’s social structure was a intricate, brutal web where family was the core of survival.

Betraying or being exiled from a family often meant death or endless pursuit.

To boldly claim the title of [Blade of Freedom] required not only formidable personal strength but also the backing or protection to defy traditional clan powers.

Angst’s move was both a statement of her sole representation of the Goldmelt Caravan, unbound by drow families,

And a silent proclamation of her strength and confidence in her “freedom.”

“Please, have a seat.”

Angst smiled faintly, gesturing.

Vivian sat as indicated, while Aria stood respectfully at her side, a vigilant statue.

“No need for pleasantries. Let’s get to the point.”

Once seated, Vivian fixed her gaze on the dark elf and spoke bluntly.

“My territory needs manpower—lots of it. For farming, construction, smelting, combat, accounting, even hauling stones. Anyone with a skill, I want them.”

Her voice was steady, and her directness caught Angst off guard.

The drow paused briefly, surprised, but quickly regained her composure.

She hadn’t expected this young Demon Lord to forgo the usual noble probing and diplomatic niceties.

Such a stark “buyer’s declaration” carried an undeniable, domineering weight in a world of calculated exchanges.

“As expected of a Demon Lord—so efficient and straightforward. I like it.”

Angst, a seasoned merchant, adjusted swiftly, her smile deepening.

With a flick of her hand, she produced a booklet and presented it to Vivian with both hands.

“This is our caravan’s catalog and price list. Please review it, Your Highness.”

Vivian took the booklet, scanning the prices.

Overall, they were reasonable.

The list included a range of slaves: the lowliest laborers, skilled workers, serfs, combat-ready war slaves,

And even inexpensive goblins and kobolds.

The caravan’s inventory of over a thousand slaves and other traded goods was detailed, prices clearly marked.

“The Goldmelt Caravan is the most professional in the s*ave trade.

We record each s*ave’s origin and condition—fair and honest, with a tenfold refund for any deception.”

Angst spoke with a smile, her tone smooth and confident.

“Whatever Your Highness desires, we’ll find a way to meet your needs.”

“Good.”

Vivian considered for a moment, then nodded, locking eyes with Angst’s expectant golden gaze.

Her voice was resolute.

“I’ll take everything listed here. And I’ll need an additional two thousand goblins and kobolds as cannon-fodder mercenaries.”

“Oh my, Your Highness is truly generous!”

Angst’s eyes lit up, her golden pupils gleaming brighter, almost sparkling with excitement.

Even for a merchant accustomed to grand deals, Vivian’s lavish, free-spending order was staggering.

This was no small transaction!

“But… Your Highness, do you have sufficient funds to cover such a sum?”

Angst’s tone shifted, a playful edge creeping in.

Her golden eyes narrowed, like a venomous snake sizing up its prey’s assets.

Vivian’s voice remained steady, carrying an unshakable confidence.

Angst’s playful scrutiny deepened, and she leaned back slightly, ready to hear how this Demon Lord would “bluff her way through.”

“…I can’t pay that much.”

Vivian delivered the second half of her statement slowly and calmly.

Angst’s expression froze, her golden eyes widening in a fleeting “Are you kidding me?” look.

“No need to rush, Chief Manager Angst.

Your caravan crossed the wastelands to reach my struggling Evernight Territory, still clawing its way out of ruin.

Surely you didn’t come all this way to leave empty-handed or to admire the storm-swept ashes?”

Vivian spoke unhurriedly, her tone deliberate.

She had a plan to get what she wanted without paying upfront.

“Evernight was ravaged by humans. It’s dirt-poor now, as you likely saw on your journey here, even if I don’t spell it out.”

She twirled a lock of hair at her temple, her tone light but laced with deeper meaning.

In plain terms, Evernight was broke, and the crystals they’d mined were already pledged to Winter Territory per prior agreements.

“So, Your Highness, what’s your proposal?”

Angst, realizing Vivian came prepared, sat up straighter, eager to hear her idea.

“As you know, Evernight isn’t barren, but it’s no treasure trove either.

Before my time, it was called [Blackhowl Territory].

The dark forces here didn’t lie dormant—they raged like a relentless hurricane.

Ordinary demons couldn’t thrive here; even setting foot in this land meant enduring the corrosive bite of overwhelming dark energy.

It was a cursed, untamed wasteland, rich yet unusable… until I claimed the Demon Lord’s mantle and subdued the darkness, making it cultivable.”

Vivian spoke slowly, recounting the lore of Evernight’s past, rooted in her memories and the game’s background.

In [Path of Blasphemy], this was the excuse for the region’s inaccessibility early on.

“I’ve heard as much,” Angst nodded, chiming in.

“[Blackhowl Territory] is infamous.

They say vast magical deposits lie beneath this land, but the raging dark energy formed a cursed barrier, making large-scale development impossible—

Like a vault of gold locked atop an erupting volcano.”

Angst rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“So, Your Highness, what are you getting at?”

“Take a look at this.”

Vivian smiled.

From her magical storage, she produced a crystal the size of a baby’s fist, deep violet, with liquid-like energy flowing within.

The moment it appeared, the tent’s heavy incense was swept away by an intangible force, replaced by an indescribable, pure essence of dark energy.

It wasn’t wild but profound and serene, remarkably stable.

With a flick of her fingers, Vivian sent the Evernight Crystal arcing gracefully to land precisely in Angst’s palm.

“This quality of Evernight Crystal?”

Angst froze the moment she caught it.

She caressed the crystal, its pure mana fluctuations radiating, as if beholding a peerless treasure.

“An Evernight Crystal of such purity and quality… I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Such purity… such stability… such immense dark energy!”

Her voice trembled with disbelief.

“Even the lofty old fossils at the Mages’ Guild would call this their dream standard—no, it might even surpass it!”

She snapped her head up, her gaze piercing Vivian as if trying to see through her.

“Your Highness, where did this come from?!

This crystal could power a legendary magic array or serve as a core component for divine artifacts!”

Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling.

As a seasoned merchant with vast networks, she knew its value—a strategic resource that could drive high-tier mages, alchemists, and even ancient beings to madness.

Vivian calmly observed Angst’s rare loss of composure, then spoke slowly.

“Now, Chief Manager Angst, let’s discuss… matters of ‘loans’ and ‘collateral credit.’”