After a good hot shower, Helier flopped onto the hard wooden bed, poking around at the newly unlocked features.

  "So many items..." He scrolled through the in-game shop—weapons, armor, potions, food... you name it. The selection was overwhelming, over ten thousand items, and he’d only scratched the surface before his thumb started to cramp.

  Most of the prices were cheap. Dirt cheap, really. But that made sense—these were just the basic supplies the Association made available to unofficial players like him.

  “See anything you like?” the system asked.

  “Yep! This one!” Helier excitedly held up a projected image from his shopping cart—a pure white cloak.

  “It only gives +2 Agility. No special effects.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I want it.” He knew from the moment he saw it—this was the one. Drape it over his shoulders, boom, instant style points!

  “Nice taste. But it costs 100 Duskgleams. Got that kind of cash?”

  The system's words slammed down like a hammer. No need to check—he was flat broke.

  All transactions in this game ran on one currency: Duskgleam. According to the system, they were crafted from the remnants of fallen stars. Each fragment shimmered faintly, a glimmer of faded glory. The name itself carried hope, that in the twilight hour, it might shine once more.

  There were many ways to earn Duskgleams—the simplest being monster drops. Like the silver coins from that boar-beast the other day. But Helier had given those all away, which left him unable to even buy a purely cosmetic cloak.

  “Mr. System, please teach me how to make money.” Helier turned to the system, eyes gleaming with hope. He knew it had to have a way. After all, it had picked Duskgleams on purpose back then.

  The system sighed. “You really are something else, Helier.” With that, the screen shifted automatically.

  Assistance Cards. As the name suggested, they let players borrow each other’s powers—or lend their own.

  “So basically, borrowing power costs money. Lending it earns money?”

  “Bingo. Let’s get started—go make your first Assistance Card.”

  “Thanks, Mr. System!” Helier beamed, tapping open the crafting interface and carefully reading the rules.

  To make a card, you had to input three things:

  First, pick a painting technique and infuse the required amount of Soul Pigment.

  Second, choose materials—these were the physical components used in the technique.

  Third, set a price. Pricing was flexible, but the system would auto-rate the card as R, SR, or SSR, so buyers had some clue about its value.

  Helier only had one painting skill, so not much to choose from. He dumped in 20% Soul Pigment and three white algae orbs without hesitation. As for pricing—

  “Mr. System, how much should I sell this for? Twenty? Thirty?”

  “Make it a hundred.”

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  “One hundred?! Isn’t that a bit much? It’s just a minor healing spell.”

  “Confidence, my dear boy. Your mercenary card is worth way more than that. I only set it this low because I know how desperate you are for that cloak,” the system replied smoothly. “Even if you’re not confident, at least trust me. Have I ever lied to you?”

  “…You haven’t.” Helier was convinced.

  He finalized the card, listed it for sale, and waited for a buyer.

  Five seconds. Ten seconds. Ding! A system alert.

  The card was sold.

  Helier blinked. That fast? Who just threw money like that—wait no, who’s this generous?

  Thrilled, but also a little nervous, he peeked at the buyer info: Username—"Leave it to me, Falcon’s never wrong."

  He couldn't help it—he burst out laughing. What a dumb name.

  What Helier didn’t know was… the buyer lived next door.

  Next Room Over.

  A rhino-like brute named Ted was sprawled on the ground snoring, covered in brutal wounds. His health bar hovered above him—at the squad leader’s insistence. Ted was a full-blown battle junkie, and the fact that he was down to less than 30% HP proved it.

  The feathered teen, Philio, folded his wings and sat on the sofa, opening his system screen. Four borrowed cards slid into his hand.

  “Alright, shopping complete. Agalia, wanna come check these out?” he called out.

  “Coming.” The bunny-girl wiped down her greatsword and walked into the living room. “Let’s see what you got.”

  “First up—Glimmer Heal.” Philio activated a bronze card. A blurry phantom emerged—a lantern girl, race indeterminate.

  She knelt beside Ted and shook her lantern gently. A weak purple glow spilled over him. The moment the spell ended, the phantom vanished.

  Ted’s wounds closed up... just a little. Maybe 10%.

  “Ugh... that’s it? That thing cost 250 Duskgleams.” Philio made a face.

  Agalia’s expression didn’t change. “Everyone’s Soul Pigment is low at the start. Weak skills are expected. Next.”

  “That was an R card. Let’s try an SR. Same price. Don’t disappoint me—Healing Aura.” He played a silver card.

  Another phantom appeared and cast the technique. A golden halo appeared around Ted, healing about 15%.

  “Sigh... maybe it’s just this big guy’s HP bar is too thick? Makes all these cards look underwhelming.” He shrugged.

  “Not impossible. But Philio—if you’re done playing around, go ahead and use the other two cards. Also, pull out that one you've been hiding in your wings—the one you bought first.” Agalia gave him a look.

  “Hey, weren’t you polishing your sword? Spying on your teammate now?”

  “Looking after teammates is part of my job as captain.”

  “Ugh, boring.” Philio casually threw down two more bronze cards. Ted’s health ticked up to about 60%, though many wounds and scars still remained.

  Then, Philio pulled out a final silver card from under his metallic wings.

  “Guess how much I paid for this one?”

  “One hundred. I saw.”

  Philio froze. The system font was microscopic, and the distance between their rooms was like twenty paces. How’d she see that? Who's the real falcon here...?

  “Enough games,” Agalia said, lowering her voice. “Those cards aren’t just for healing Ted. They're part of our recruitment strategy. We keep fighting above our level—sooner or later, we’ll be crawling back half-dead. We need a strong Healing Bloom.”

  “Yeah yeah, I know. Relax—this next one’ll blow your mind!” Philio grinned and summoned the final phantom.

  A young boy appeared.

  Agalia’s ears immediately perked up. She recognized that soul signature—it was the human boy Philio had mentioned yesterday.

  The boy tossed a white-green orb, then dashed off. Healing energy burst through the room. Ted’s health bar rocketed upward, healing completely in under three seconds—not a single scar left behind.

  “Incredible Soul Pigment intensity.” Agalia’s eyes narrowed. She stared at the wall as if she could see right through it.

  “Probably dumped all his EXP into pigment upgrades. But it’s not just that—he clearly experimented a ton to find the best effect,” Philio said proudly. “So? He’s the one, right?”

  “Absolutely. What’s his username?”

  “Helier.”

  Agalia blinked. “…That sounds like a real name.”

  “Yep. And pretty sure it is. I spotted it on the room directory. Oh, and guess what? He lives next door. How’s that for fate?”

  Philio grinned.

  “That is… convenient.” Agalia stood and made straight for the door.

  “Wait!!” Philio grabbed her. “Don’t forget, you’re ranked second on the leaderboard. You go knocking on his door, you’ll scare the poor kid half to death! What’re you gonna say? ‘Hi, join our team or else?’”

  Agalia’s ears drooped. “So… play the long game?”

  “Relax. I’ll whip up the perfect plan to win him over. Just leave it to me—Falcon’s never wrong!”

  Philio cackled, his handsome face twisting into something that absolutely did not look trustworthy.

  Agalia sighed. Maybe she should knock now. She was getting real worried the next time she saw Helier, he’d be tied up in a sack.