NOVEL NEXT Chapter 98: House of Light!
She didn't say it, but the skepticism in her expression was impossible to miss.
She checked deeper into the records. Her eyes narrowed as she found details about the assigned party.
"…Desperado Guild," she murmured. "So you were with them… That makes a bit more sense. They're known for clearing dungeons fast."
She didn't know.
Not even close.
If only she knew the truth.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, brushing her hand through her bangs.
"You're quite lucky. You passed your first mission without issues. Most new Awakened have it rough—some even die."
Her voice softened slightly, as though she was recalling something painful.
Ethan said nothing.
What could he say?
He didn't know how to reply to that kind of sentiment. So he stayed quiet, letting her words settle between them.
Despite her obvious doubts, she was professional and efficient. Within a minute, everything was processed, his rewards transferred into his Association wallet.
"Alright," she said, straightening. "You're done here. If you want to sell the weapons and items you recovered from the dungeon, head to the Exchange Division. It's on the next floor, room 207."
"Thanks," Ethan said and turned to leave.
But then he paused.
"…Where can I sell a dungeon core?"
The room fell into silence.
The woman's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly.
"You…?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
She stared at him, genuinely stunned this time.
'He cleared the dungeon and acquired the core?'
Her fingers slowly tightened on the desk. She hadn't just underestimated his speed… she had underestimated him.
"…The Awakened Association buys dungeon cores," she finally said, regaining her composure. "We offer a fixed price. No bargaining. The value is pre-determined depending on the dungeon's rank."
Ethan nodded and checked the listed value from his interface.
Dungeon Core (Low-Rank): 800,000 Nexs
His heart skipped.
That was more than enough.
More than enough for Mia's treatment.
More than enough to buy her safety.
Maybe even enough to start preparing for what came next.
His jaw clenched slightly.
'Finally…'
He gave a light nod and turned toward the direction she pointed, walking in silence.
And behind him, the woman watched him go—her curiosity deepening, her thoughts swirling.
'Leon Grimveil… just who are you?'
Ethan stepped into the elevator, the metallic hum rising as it lifted him upward. The mirrored walls reflected his quiet expression—calm, unreadable. With a soft chime, the elevator stopped on the next floor. He stepped out, turning down a quiet hallway toward room 207.
Exchange Division.
A plaque by the door confirmed it. The door slid open automatically.
The room was large, lined with reinforced counters, mana detectors, and a host of scanning equipment. Behind a glass panel stood an attendant—young, clean-cut, and clearly used to dealing with low-level traders and rookies trying to sell scraps for a quick coin.
The man gave Ethan a cursory glance, his gaze pausing briefly on the spatial ring. Then, with trained professionalism, he straightened.
"Welcome to the Exchange Division. How may I help you today?"
Ethan didn't bother with small talk. "I'm here to sell weapons—ranked and standard."
The attendant arched an eyebrow slightly, still assuming Ethan had a few spare swords or daggers at most.
"I see. How many weapons are we talking about?"
Ethan lifted his right hand, turning it slightly.
A ripple of mana surged through his fingers. From the ring, a tiny black void split open, hovering above his palm.
Then the weapons began to pour out.
Clink—clang—clatter.
One after another, daggers spilled onto the reinforced counter with metallic grace, perfectly stacked and arranged by the automated mana-sorting glyphs embedded in the surface. The attendant blinked in shock, his posture stiffening.
The flow continued.
And continued.
And continued.
He took a step back as the daggers kept coming.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Until finally, the void closed with a soft pulse of light, and silence returned.
The counter was filled to the brim—rows of sharp, gleaming daggers forged from dungeon-tempered steel. Each exuded a faint mana signature, proof of their rank.
"One hundred and twenty-eight rank one daggers," Ethan said flatly.
The attendant's mouth opened slightly.
"One hundred and twenty-eight…" he muttered, stunned. "This… this is the largest single batch of ranked weapons I've ever processed."
His tone had shifted. Gone was the distant professionalism—now, there was genuine respect.
Most dungeon parties didn't sell rank one weapons en masse. They were too valuable for guild armories, training recruits, or equipping new members. Selling them was short-term profit—keeping them was long-term investment.
Only someone solo—and someone powerful—could afford to sell like this.
"I'll begin the appraisal," the man said quickly, recovering his composure.
He selected a dagger from the front, placing it in a mana-resonance hardness tester. The orb pulsed faintly, showing consistent readings. The display lit up with confirmation: Peak Rank 1 Quality.
The man whistled under his breath.
"These are in exceptional condition. Based on market rate, and current Association standards… we're offering 250,000 Nexs per dagger."
Ethan did the math instantly in his head.
Thirty-two million Nexs.
He gave a single nod. "Proceed."
The attendant keyed in the transfer, his hands moving much more carefully now.
"You'll receive the funds shortly. Thank you for choosing the Awakened Association's Exchange Division," he said, almost ceremoniously.
But Ethan wasn't done.
"What about normal weapons?" he asked.
The man looked up.
"Normal?"
Ethan didn't respond—he just raised his hand again.
The void shimmered to life once more.
This time, a torrent of standard weapons spilled out—short swords, cracked spears, goblin cleavers, rusted axes. Their blades weren't imbued with mana, but they were still forged steel—still valuable.
The sound they made as they hit the table was deafening.
The attendant stared in mute disbelief as the pile grew—and grew.
When it finally ended, the pile stood like a miniature hill on the sorting platform.
"These are the non-ranked weapons I picked up," Ethan said simply.
The man stared at the mound, face pale.
"…H-How many?"
"A little over fifteen hundred."
The attendant swallowed.
'Just how many goblins… how many creatures did he kill?'
Ethan's gaze remained calm, distant. He didn't explain. He didn't need to.
"Well… standard dungeon weapons are usually melted down. They're mostly useless in direct combat, but they're important base materials for crafting low-tier rank one weapons, training dummies, and other blacksmithing applications."
He checked the screen.
"Current market value is 10,000 Nexs per piece. Total would be fifteen million Nexs."
Another nod.
Another transfer.
The attendant could barely look away from him now.
He didn't know who this man was—this young Awakened who looked barely older than twenty. But he had sold more weapons than an entire low-ranked guild could haul from a dungeon. And his demeanor… his confidence…
Terrifying.
"I… hope you'll use our services again," the attendant said, bowing his head slightly.
Ethan turned away without a word.
His total profits from one dungeon raid:
47 million Nexs.
And that wasn't even counting the dungeon core he still held.
As the doors behind him slid closed, the stunned attendant finally whispered aloud—
"…Just who is this guy?"
Ethan walked into the House of Living Light with swift, purposeful steps. No hesitation. No uncertainty.
The receptionist looked up, startled by his return.
"I'm here to pay," he said, his voice calm, composed.
She blinked, then nodded quickly. "Of course…"
He swiped his Awakened Association card.
The moment the transaction cleared, the numbers on the terminal drew a sharp breath from the receptionist. Even she couldn't hide the surprise at the amount he dropped without a blink.
"We'll… begin the healing immediately," she said.
Ethan gave a curt nod, stepping aside and watching them scramble with new urgency.
---
He waited.
And waited.
The procedure didn't take long—but the minutes felt like hours.
When the doors finally hissed open and the medic stepped out, Ethan stood to meet him.
"She's stable. Resting now," the man said, smiling like he expected gratitude. "No complications."
Ethan gave a slight nod, but something in his gut twisted.
He didn't like the way they were talking.
Too clean. Too smooth.
He turned away from the doctor without another word and went to check the healing logs himself.
He was no ordinary awakened. No clueless patient.
Back on Earth, he was a licensed physician. And though the systems of Nexa differed, principles didn't change. Especially not when it came to healing theory, circuit flow, or spiritual damage.
Ethan swiped into the treatment records.
And there it was.
The healing logs were clear.
Basic mana circuit redirection.
Low-tier spiritual cleansing.
No rare ingredients were used.
His breath stilled.
His eyes scanned through every single line, every sigil activation, every mana pathway.
None of the high-class materials they asked for were even necessary.
They hadn't helped at all.
They'd just... lied.
Manipulated him when he was desperate.
His jaw clenched.
He exited the log and stood there, a hollow stillness gripping him. His fists were trembling—but not from fear or panic.
From rage.
From restraint.
They had exploited his desperation. His love for his sister.
They played him like a fool...