A member of the 10 man dormitory had a huge grin plastered across his face as he ran back toward the group, swinging a secondhand sword like a kid playing knights.
Another new guy Ren had just passed the helmet to, a sharp-eyed, fast-talking kid who had picked Mage for his main profession and Glassworker for his secondary—was right behind him, panting hard but laughing.
Glassworkers didn’t have much use early on, but Ren liked the pick.
Glass was needed later for potion bottles, magical mirrors, and even some spellcasting focuses.
It was a decent choice for a secondary profession—and definitely not a common one.
Scrap Rats were out in the hills just outside Greenwild Cross, doing what they did best: killing anything that moved and grabbing every copper coin that dropped.
And thanks to Ren’s potions?
They were all doing pretty damn well.
No more desperate retreats because someone’s health regen was too slow.
No more waiting around for mana bars to crawl back up.
Now it was smash, slash, firebolt, heal, and move on.
Fast, efficient, lethal.
Everyone was leveling up steadily.
Mira was almost halfway to level 5, and the others weren’t far behind.
Only the randoms from the dorm were lagging a bit, but that was expected—one had just started, and the security was barely behind him.
Still, morale was high, and there was a growing sense of pride.
The Scrap Rats weren’t just randoms anymore.
They were becoming a real squad.
Loyalty could be earned—and so far, every one of the Scrap Rats had stuck by Ren.
If they kept it up?
When Ren finally formed a real guild, they’d be the first ones getting invites.
He hadn’t told them that yet.
But he was already planning for it.
One slumrat scheme at a time.
The Lantern light Dungeon had technically opened.
The system announcement had gone out, banners had flashed in town, and the world had buzzed with excitement.
The recommended level was 8+, and even the hardcore grinders had barely scraped level 5 or 6 — thanks to the goblin battle dragging down the town’s progression.
Most players had shrugged and said, “Soon.”
And then they had kept grinding.
But now?
Now the tide was turning.
A few guild-led groups had finally managed to grind their way to level 7 and level 8.
The Prosperous Guild, Iron Banner, Black Thorn Pact — the usual suspects.
They didn’t have the perfect full parties of maxed players, but they had enough. They had 10 players. And that was enough to try it. Even though it wasn’t the perfect combinations.
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Enough to risk it.
Enough to want that sweet, sweet first-clear bonus dangling like meat in front of starving wolves.
And so, the first true expedition into Lantern light Dungeon began.
It was an utter bloodbath.
Inside, the dungeon wasn’t some quiet cave with lanterns like the name suggested.
The air shimmered with heat.
The walls sweated molten rivulets.
Flames danced in the distance.
The fire damage was passive.
You took damage just standing there.
And it stacked.
Without proper fire resistance, every second you spent inside was another few ticks shaving your health away.
Healing-over-time potions were useless.
Even instant-heal potions like the ones Ren had crafted could only buy a few extra seconds of survival.
And players realized it far, far too late.
Guild parties stumbled back out of the dungeon entrance — armor scorched, faces red from virtual burns.
Some didn’t even make it out.
Death messages were popping like popcorn in the system feed.
ProsperousGuild_Victor:
“WHO THE HELL DESIGNED THIS DUNGEON?!”
IronBanner_Ross:
“WHERE ARE THE DAMN FIRE RESIST POTS?!”
BlackThorn_Jexi:
“STOP GOING IN! WE NEED FORMATIONS, NOT HEADLESS CHICKENS!”
The town square outside the dungeon turned into a triage center.
Groups were yelling, mages were sobbing about lost gear, warriors were arguing whose fault it was that they wiped.
And looming over it all was the slow, painful realization:
They needed fire resistance — badly.
Not one group had even reached the first mini-boss.
Hell, most groups didn’t make it past the first fire elemental patrol.
Meanwhile, back in town…
Ren sat quietly in the Alchemist Guild, calmly brewing potions.
Because he already knew what was coming.
‘Just a little longer,’ he thought, stacking another batch of fire resistance reagents into his inventory.
‘Soon it’s going to be another Black Friday at my counter.’
Ren had spent every last coin he had sweeping the reagents again for the fire resistance potions. Buying even the ones that weren’t the best value.
He was broke.
No—worse than broke.
He had less spending power than the newbies wandering around Greenwild Cross with their starter coppers clinking in their pockets.
But that didn’t bother him.
Because now the kerfuffle over the Lantern light Dungeon had started, and Ren was sitting on the real gold mine: fire resistance potions.
The Lantern Light Dungeon at level 8 was one of Towerbound’s nastier tricks. Technically, yes—you could clear it at level 8. The system even encouraged it. Made it seem like a smart move. But here’s the catch: unless you had the right potions, you were going to roast like a marshmallow on a campfire skewer.
Specifically, you needed fire resistance. And not just one or two potions—you needed a stash. The only place to get them at that level? NPC vendors. And they only sold 25 total per server refresh. That’s it. Twenty-five. Not per player. Total.
So you got one serious attempt. Maybe. If your group was tight, skilled, and didn’t waste a single movement. If you flubbed it? Burned. Wiped. EXP gone.
And this wasn’t even theoretical. In his previous life, Ren remembered high-tier groups at level 10 needing 30+ fire resistance potions just to clear it. And that was after learning every mechanic, practicing the runs, and theorycrafting the whole thing like it was a final exam. At level 8? It was a suicide mission disguised as an “optional challenge.”
That was the Towerbound trap.
“Hey, you hit Level 8! Wanna try this cool dungeon?”
“Oops. You died. There goes your EXP.”
“Oops. You died again? Welcome back to Level 7.”
It was brutal. It was punishing.
And the Towerbound devs?
They absolutely loved that.
Ren wasn’t about to throw them onto the auction house like a fool.
He knew better.
Ren pulled open his friends list and messaged two guilds — Silvercut Division and Ashen Bloom — two groups that, in his last life, hadn’t been complete assholes to the random players.
And since Ren was the first officially recognized Junior Instructor of the Alchemist Guild, his private messages went through guild spam filters instantly.
It didn’t even take a minute.
Both guilds were hammering him with responses.
Silvercut_Ardon: “How many pots you got? Instant delivery? We’ll pay premium. Send location!”
AshenBloom_Valis: “How much for fire resists? We’ll take whatever you’ve got. Full stacks if possible.”
Ren leaned back in his chair, a slow, shark-like grin spreading across his face.
‘Patience,’ he thought. ‘Let them sweat a little.’
He waited, reading the frantic new offers popping up every few seconds.
Silvercut_Ardon: “Two silver each if you deliver now.”
AshenBloom_Valis: “2.5 silver each and you get a standing order with us!”
‘Better,’ Ren thought, tapping his fingers idly.
He knew the reality.
The Lantern light Dungeon wasn’t some casual stroll through a warm cave.
It was a brutal furnace.
To get through it properly?
You needed at least 40 fire resistance potions just for a half-decent run — assuming everyone played perfectly.
For a serious first clear attempt?
It would take 50 to 60 potions minimum.
Ren had crafted 65.
If he sold piecemeal, no single guild would have enough.
They’d all wipe halfway through and come crawling back for more at even higher prices.
But if he sold 65 potions in one batch to a single guild?
They’d almost make it through.
Almost.
That was the sweet spot Ren wanted them at.
So he kept waiting, watching the offers climb higher and higher as desperation began to set in.
The price of survival was about to skyrocket—and Ren planned to be the one setting the price tags.
