Dimensional Merchant: Starting With 100 Stat Points

The morning air inside the Lion's Guild building carried the scent of warm bread, roasted meat, and the faint tang of metal polish.

The cafeteria was already alive with noise when Wade stepped through the doors.

All he could hear was the clatter of trays, the laughter of adventurers bragging about recent conquests, and of course, the buzz of voices all weaving together into a low, constant rumble.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he moved towards the line.

Even though he'd slept well, he still had a faint ache in his body.

Whether it was from his sleeping position last night or just his body reminding him of the injuries he'd taken on in his dungeon was up for debate.

However, he couldn't help but admit that his step was lighter than it had been in days.

A good night's sleep, and the fact that his debt was almost halfway through being paid off, had a way of clearing the head.

He took a tray, nodding absently to the server behind the counter, and ladled food onto his plate.

Smiling, he chose roasted pork slices, a chunk of bread, and some watery soup.

His eyes automatically swept the room, and there sat Ingrid, already eating at their usual table.

Wade smiled at the all too familiar sight, then made his way over, tray in hand.

"Ingrid," he greeted, placing his tray across from her.

She looked up briefly, nodding at him. "Wade."

He sat down, tearing a piece of bread, and was just about to dig in when he noticed her staring.

Her spoon paused halfway to her mouth.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes flickered over him, from his posture to the faint, almost undetectable confidence that had unconsciously seeped into his expression.

"Something about you's different," she said finally, tilting her head. "I can't quite place it, but you've changed."

Wade blinked.

For a second, he wasn't sure how to respond. Then he gave a small, lopsided smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Ingrid didn't smile back. She just returned to her food, though he could tell her mind was still ticking behind those eyes.

'Sharp-eyed as ever,' he thought.

He'd done his best to keep things subtle, to move like the same adventurer he'd been before that dungeon, before his trip to Fairchild's mansion, but apparently, Ingrid noticed more than most.

He took a spoonful of soup, trying to brush off the thought.

The cafeteria door swung open again, and Rowan walked in.

He made his way to get his own tray of food, and with his usual grin plastered across his face, he spotted them immediately and made his way over.

"Well, look who beat me to the building today!" Rowan said cheerfully as he set down his tray beside Wade's.

Wade smirked. "Guess I'm improving my attendance record."

"Or maybe you finally learned how to wake up on time," Rowan teased, dropping into his chair.

He grabbed a chunk of bread and tore it apart, grinning as if the world itself were in on the joke.

Wade chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "You're in a good mood."

"I should be," Rowan said, mouth half-full. "We finished that escort quest yesterday, smooth as butter."

"Oh yeah?" Wade leaned forward slightly, curious. "How'd it go?"

Rowan's grin widened. "You'll love this. So, we're heading out of the west gate, right? Normal job, nothing fancy."

"But halfway to the destination, bam! We get ambushed by a bunch of goblin raiders."

Wade frowned. "Ambushed?"

"Yeah," Rowan said, eyes sparkling. "And guess who showed up before we could give the goblins a walloping?"

"This one-legged adventurer. Old guy, scar from his temple down to his jaw, missing half his left ear."

Wade blinked, surprised.

"I know right?!" Rowan laughed at his expression. "A one-legged adventurer!"

"He just came out of nowhere, swinging this giant axe like he's got a death wish."

"I swear, I thought the guy was going to keel over any second, but he moves like a damn ghost. Cuts through half the goblins before I can even take a step forward."

"You know what I think he is?"

"What?" Wade asked.

Ingrid looked up, silent but attentive now. Rowan was always animated when he talked about other adventurers, his respect for them obvious.

"I think he's a hidden high ranked adventurer. Maybe Level 50, huh?"

"He's not." Ingrid said dryly.

"Come on. It could be possible." Rowan grinned.

"Do you guys know what his name is?" Wade asked.

"Yeah. His name's Bren," Rowan said. "Bren the Butcher."

"He said he used to be part of a guild up north before he lost his leg to a wyvern. Now he just roams around taking odd quests."

"Bren…" Wade echoed, thinking. "If he's a freelance adventurer, doesn't that mean he bought out his contract?"

"He didn't." Ingrid said, turning back to her food. "The guild released him from it. As compensation for something."

"Yeah. Everyone has heard of that story but nobody knows what he was actually compensated for," Rowan said, chuckling. "Guy's a legend."

"He told me something before we parted ways. Said, 'A sword arm's nothing without the will to swing it.'" Rowan leaned back with a grin. "Damn right, too."

Wade smirked. "Are you planning to put that on a plaque or something?"

"Maybe." Rowan laughed. "Gotta have a motto, right?"

Wade was about to respond when the atmosphere at the table shifted.

The noise in the cafeteria seemed to fade just a little as a familiar presence approached.

Wade didn't even have to look to know who it was. Sebastian.

The big man's shadow fell across the table before he did. His breastplate gleamed faintly, freshly polished, his axe strapped to his back.

His expression was calm as always, but there was a subtle weight to his steps, one that Wade immediately picked up on.

"Morning," Sebastian said, setting his tray down and seating beside Ingrid.

"Morning, boss," Rowan greeted with his usual grin.

"Sebastian," Ingrid said with a nod.

"Sebastian," Wade echoed, keeping his tone neutral.

Sebastian sat, taking a moment to glance around at the three of them.

He didn't touch his food right away. Instead, he exhaled softly.

"I have news," he said finally.

That caught all of their attention.

"What kind?" Rowan asked, still cheerful but a little guarded now.

Sebastian's eyes met his. "Serious."

He paused long enough to make them all lean forward slightly.

"The guilds have confirmed it."

"Confirmed what?" Wade asked.

Sebastian's gaze flicked toward him. "There's a Tyrant horde in the region."

The words seemed to hit the table like a stone dropped into a pond.

For a moment, no one spoke. Even Rowan, normally quick to fill any silence, simply blinked, his grin fading.

Wade frowned slightly, the faint tightening in his gut hiding behind the calm on his face. "They confirmed it?"

Sebastian nodded grimly. "Three separate caravans have been wiped out within a week. Survivors made it back to the city with consistent reports of monsters moving in coordinated groups."

"A single roar commanding them all. The signs are undeniable. Besides, the crew they sent to check returned with confirmation."

Ingrid was the first to speak, her tone level but cold. "Do they know what kind of Tyrant it is?"

"If they do, they haven't made that information available to me," Sebastian said. "But from the rumors I heard, the guild's it's either a Wyrm-Tyrant or a Dreadlord-class beast. Either way, it's bad."

Rowan leaned back, blowing out a slow whistle. "Damn. That's… that's going to turn the region upside down."

"Already has," Sebastian replied. "The neighboring guild branches have started mobilizing. Hiving's preparing for a siege if it comes to it."

Wade looked at him steadily. "So it's war, then."

"Potentially," Sebastian said. "The last time a Tyrant appeared near a city, half the outer districts were razed before they could drive it back."

"If the horde marches here, we'll be conscripted. Every available adventurer will be called to arms."

Tension swept through the group.

Wade glanced at Ingrid, and as usual, her expression was blank, though her hand had paused over her spoon.

Rowan scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his tray.

"So," he said after a beat, "we'll be part of the defense?"

Sebastian nodded. "Eventually. The guild will start assigning preparation quests soon. Supply runs, monster-clearing missions, escort duties, that kind of thing."

"They'll want everyone ready. Especially those who've proven themselves reliable."

Wade's fingers drummed lightly against the table, his thoughts spinning behind a calm expression.

A Tyrant horde.

It was both a disaster and an opportunity.

Chaos meant demand. For weapons, for healers, for supplies.

And more than that, Tyrant wars always had a high probability of ending with the kind of money that could set a man up for life… assuming he survived.

Sebastian finally picked up his fork, his tone softening just slightly.

"I'll get more details during the next meeting. Until then, the training session for today is cancelled. We'll meet here again tomorrow morning."

"For now, rest up. We might not get another chance once this starts."