"Change that name this instant!" Fire-Hammer roared, hopping mad.
"Why? Don't you want your shop to be overflowing with guests?" Lorne looked at the dwarf with feigned confusion. "If they want to buy a Magic Tablet, just tell them you don't sell them. If they want something else... surely you still have some of that backlogged Hero equipment in your shop?"
"I do, but... wait! You mean those people actually want to be Heroes?!"
The possibility terrified the dwarf. Had those "players" lost their minds? Why would they want to return to the Age of Heroes? Why drive the carriage of history backward?
"What? Hahaha, you're overthinking it. Impossible," Lorne waved a hand dismissively. "They just want to buy a few sets of gear to keep as 'merchandise.' Merch is for collecting, obviously. No one would actually use it, right?"
How should I know! I only heard the word "merchandise" for the first time today! Fire-Hammer thought bitterly.
"Of course, if you truly object, I'll change the NPC's name. These things should be consensual, after all..."
Before Lorne could finish, the back door burst open. Silas poked his head through.
"Lord Lorne, this is bad!" The handsome incubus's face was beaded with sweat. "The walk-in stock is completely sold out! The customers who missed out are starting a riot at the front door!"
"Lord Lorne, I can go maintain order," Serina volunteered.
Fire-Hammer let out a sharp "Ha!", his beard twitching mockingly. "Think about your abilities! You'd be throwing oil on a fire!"
A succubus's charm can incite or soothe human emotions. Serina leaned toward the former, while Silas was better at the latter. That was why Lorne had Silas working the floor; if a customer got agitated, Silas could at least use his charm to keep them civil.
But even a succubus's power had limits. If Silas couldn't suppress the crowd, their excitement must have reached a fever pitch. If Serina went out there now... Fire-Hammer wouldn't be surprised if the frantic customers leveled the entire building.
Silas snapped his fingers. "Sister can incite them to attack each other! I read in the newspaper that human politicians call this 'stoking conflict' and 'deflecting contradictions'!"
Fire-Hammer felt the urge to raise his hands to the heavens. Humans, look at what you've done! What kind of twisted logic have you been feeding this dim-witted little demon?!
Lorne's expression was equally subtle. "...Silas, go back and try to keep the peace. I'll pull some more monsters from the dungeon to act as security later. As for Serina..."
"Yes!" Serina straightened her back.
"The dungeon should have just finished a new batch of tablets. Go bring them here."
Fire-Hammer couldn't help but interject. "The Gloom Catacombs are miles from Norelia. You'll never make it in time!"
Serina gave him a sidelong glare. "Move. You're blocking my path."
"I am not! The door is over there!"
As the old dwarf grumbled, he watched Serina raise her hand and begin tracing symbols in the air. Where her finger passed, a trail of glowing blue light remained, forming a massive rune. When the final stroke was finished, the rune collapsed instantly, transforming into a shimmering blue vortex as tall as a person.
Serina stepped into the vortex.
A few minutes later, she walked back out, dragging a large cardboard box filled with neatly stacked obsidian tablets, each branded with the "Dungeon Entertainment" logo.
"...A portal?!" Fire-Hammer's eyebrows nearly vanished into his hairline.
He had dealt with mages before and knew that portals were high-level magic. Depending on size, distance, and duration, the mana cost varied wildly. For an average mage to teleport themselves from one side of Norelia to the other, the mana consumed would be enough to cast five Fireballs. Thus, they never used it unless absolutely necessary. Most mages preferred their legs over their magic.
Yet Serina had opened a portal as if she were taking a stroll, maintained it for minutes, and even brought back a heavy crate!
Did this mean her mana had returned?
While he wasn't sure how she had done it, it was clearly linked to these tablets and the actions of the Demon King.
"Now then, Mr. Fire-Hammer," Lorne said, turning his attention back to the dwarf after the two demons hauled the fresh stock toward the front. "What do you think of my suggestion?"
Fire-Hammer snapped out of his trance. "Uh? What? Oh, the PNC thing?"
"NPC," Lorne corrected patiently.
The old dwarf scratched his beard. Judging by the chaos in the experience store, Lorne's obsidian orders would be endless from now on. For the sake of maintaining this partnership alone, it was best to stay on Lorne's good side. If he wanted to use the name, let him.
The "players" were indeed a bit too enthusiastic, but if they were willing to spend money at his shop for "merchandise," why turn away gold? His warehouse was full of junk from the Age of Heroes that he couldn't sell; if people wanted to take it off his hands, he'd be more than happy.
Besides, profit was secondary. More important was the mana.
If the monsters were regaining their power, the long-standing balance between them and humans was bound to break. This new Demon King from the Demon Realm was destined to stir a storm of change in Norelia... no, in the Coastal Kingdom, across the entire continent.
Dwarves were always sensitive to the changing tides of the era, which was why they always managed to find the right direction in the flow of history. Instinct told Fire-Hammer that it was time to pick a side. Clinging to this Demon King's coattails would surely yield infinite benefits.
"Thinking it over, using my name doesn't seem so bad..." Fire-Hammer rubbed his hands together. "The customers are a bit troublesome, but I think I can handle it."
"Glad to hear it." Lorne bowed slightly with a playful smile. "I'd be in a bind if you couldn't, because I want to place an additional order for obsidian."
"Order as much as you like! I'll call in my brothers, sisters, uncles, and nephews to help! You can trust dwarven craftsmanship!"
To his surprise, Lorne shook his head.
"I'm not looking for a large family handicraft workshop, Mr. Fire-Hammer. This is the industrial age. Dwarves must advance with the times, reconstruct the underlying logic of the industry—industrialize, standardize, and implement assembly lines. That is the only way to meet the demands of the new era and achieve a 'Dimensional Reduction Strike' in our vertical market..."
Here it comes again! The gibberish! Stop talking, stop talking!
"Anyway," Lorne summarized, "I want to add another two thousand tablets to next month's order. As our business scales up, the demand will only grow. Go back and do the math. Serina!" He called the succubus. "Escort Mr. Fire-Hammer back to his shop!"
Fire-Hammer was dizzy from the jargon; he barely felt it when an unwilling Serina grabbed his arm. The trip back was much easier than the trip there. He didn't have to navigate the stinking sewers; Serina dropped him right into his own living room via portal.
"Alright, you old potato, get to work," Serina said, brushing dust off her hands. "Stay loyal to Lord Lorne, and you'll get your share of the spoils."
With that, she stepped back through the blue vortex and vanished.
Back at the experience store, Lorne turned to Serina. "To be honest, My Lord, that old dwarf isn't loyal to you from the bottom of his heart. He just wants a piece of the pie."
"I know," Lorne replied, his smile fading into something more serious. "But Serina, you can't expect everyone in the world to be unconditionally loyal. Most people are bound together by interest. 'There are no eternal friends, no eternal enemies, only eternal interests.'"
He looked deeply at the succubus. "That's why I named the NPC after him. Only when Fire-Hammer realizes how much profit I can bring him will he work for me willingly. Besides, I need him for other things."
Such as hardware R&D.
Obsidian was sufficient as a raw material for now, but as games became more complex and refined, its performance would bottleneck. After all, it was the cheapest magic-conductive ore. To host more complex spells and data, he would eventually need more expensive ores—in other words, the hardware would need an upgrade. Lorne was a software dev; hardware wasn't his forte. It was better left to the dwarves.
Suddenly, the door to the front hall burst open again. Silas crawled in, looking miserable.
"Lord Lorne, the tablets are sold out again! I can't hold them back anymore!"
Lorne sighed. Sometimes, a business being too successful was a headache.
A happy headache. Give me more!
A scholar from the Philosophy Department of Norelia University once wrote a paper titled On the Conservation of Human Emotional Energy. The core argument was that since energy in the universe is conserved, human emotion must follow: if someone is happy, someone else must be sad.
While Lorne was basking in the joy of booming business, one of his customers was very much proving the "conservation" theory by sinking into despair.
Three days after the Magic Tablet release, Yvette woke up early, washed up, and headed out with several books and her own tablet. At the library steps, she saw a familiar figure staggering up the stairs, nearly falling several times.
"Chris?" Yvette called out. "Are you alright? Are you sick?"
Chris turned his head stiffly. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and his chin was covered in stubble. If he took off his school uniform and held a bottle, he'd look exactly like a local drunkard. The sight genuinely startled Yvette.
Last time she saw him, he'd given her a tablet and disappeared. It had only been three days. What happened?
Chris's lips trembled, and he burst into tears.
"Miss Yvette... I... my heart is broken!"
Yvette hurriedly set her books down and handed him an embroidered lace handkerchief. "Don't cry! My grandfather always says there are plenty of fish in the sea. If this one didn't work out, find another. You're such a catch, I'm sure many girls like you."
Chris shook his head violently. "No more! Never again! She's gone forever! I'll never find another girl like her!"
"Wait, who are you talking about?"
Chris let out a wail and buried his face in Yvette's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
"It's... Red Light!"
Lorne's Developer Log:
Success: Portals are now operational for logistics. Shipping costs reduced to 0 (plus mana).
Hardware: Begun initial talks for the "Obsidian Tablet Pro" with the Dwarven guild.
Side Effect: It seems I've accidentally created the world's first "Waifu-related depression" case.
How should Yvette respond to this bizarre confession? Should she try to explain that Red Light is just a bunch of pixels, or should she ask Chris for his save file so she can see what the fuss is about?