For the next hour, Silas turned the pristine high-end boutique into his personal tactical staging ground.

He walked through the sprawling aisles, entirely ignoring the nervous and whispering clerks trailing behind him holding massive shopping baskets.

He approached a rack of sturdy reinforced canvas tunics and thick dark leather combat trousers.

"These," Silas said, grabbing a set. "Use Brida’s measurements for these."

The blonde clerk looked at the ledger.

"Sir... this woman’s shoulder measurements are immense. Are you sure she wants a combat tunic?"

"She needs the mobility," Silas explained pragmatically. "Make the shoulders wider as she needs full rotation for her shield arm."

The clerks furiously scribbled notes on their magical data-pads, deeply confused and slightly terrified as to how big this peron was.

Silas grabbed a heavy leather trench coat off a nearby display rack. It was marked as a unisex durable outer layer for winter travel.

"Will this fit a woman with a fifty-inch shoulder span?" Silas asked, looking critically at the stitching.

"I... I am not sure, my Lord," the clerk stammered. "It is a tailored fit."

Silas sighed.

He didn’t want to buy gear that would rip the second Brida swung her new axe.

"Hold this," Silas said, tossing the ledger to the terrified clerk.

Right there, standing in the middle of the high-end women’s boutique, Silas unbuttoned his dark outer coat and shrugged it off, tossing it onto a nearby velvet chair.

The three clerks instantly stopped breathing.

Underneath the coat, Silas was wearing a fitted shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the heavily muscled, prime physical conditioning of his Prime Body.

The clerks turned the color of ripe tomatoes, frantically averting their eyes but completely failing to actually look away.

Silas ignored them completely.

He grabbed the heavy leather trench coat intended for Brida and smoothly slid his broad shoulders into the sleeves.

He was roughly the same height and width as that woman though she was more muscular.

He zipped the coat up and immediately executed a rapid, high-speed sequence of shadow-boxing punches and a mock two-handed overhead axe swing right there in the aisle.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

The air violently cracked around his fists.

The clerks shrieked and jumped back, terrified he was attacking them. Silas stopped swinging and rolled his shoulders, listening to the leather creak.

"It’s too tight," Silas critiqued, popping his neck. "It restricts the rotation at the apex of the swing. Rip the interior seams and widen the gussets by two inches on all the heavy coats."

He took the coat off, completely oblivious to the fact that the three clerks were now convinced he was not only a harem-master but also had a deeply bizarre cross-dressing kink!

He moved rapidly through the rest of the store.

He selected fitted, matte-black leather gear for Tamsin, specifically ensuring the sleeves wouldn’t catch on her new chained-dagger bracers.

He picked out similar high-mobility ranger gear for Fenna and the scouts.

He found a section of simple comfortable, breathable linen robes and picked out three sets for Rowena, prioritizing her ability to sit and channel mana without overheating.

He ordered two dozen heavy duty stain-resistant canvas aprons and thick cotton shirts for Kaelia and the logistical recruits working in the kitchens and the butcher yards.

Finally, he moved to a heavily secured, glass-encased display at the absolute center of the boutique.

Hanging behind the glass were elegant flawless flowing emerald-green dresses spun entirely from high-grade, enchanted spider-silk.

The fabric was practically weightless, breathable, and radiated a soft warmth.

Silas looked at the dress.

He immediately thought of his clingy silver-green-haired SSS-Rank Goddess who was probably throwing a fuss right about now.

"This style," Silas instructed, pointing at the glass. "Eluned will want these. Make sure the skirts are tailored long enough to trail slightly on the ground, but reinforce the hem so it doesn’t tear."

Silas applied the exact same precision to their civilian clothing as he did to their heavy weaponry.

They had bled in the mud for him... They had butchered hundreds of monsters for him in the freezing cold... The least he could do as their Sovereign was ensure they slept in warmth and comfort.

By the time he finally finished his sweep of the store, massive, towering piles of high-end clothing, heavy wooden crates of premium thread and needles, and massive, heavy spools of raw silk were stacked dangerously high near the front glass doors.

The lead clerk stood behind the marble counter, her fingers flying across the runic terminal as she tallied the final, absolute cost.

Her hands were shaking violently as the digital numbers updated. She had never, in her entire career, processed a single order this large...

She looked up at Silas, who was casually leaning against the counter, completely unbothered.

"Lord Graves," the blonde clerk whispered, her voice barely audible, fully expecting him to violently balk at the massive, astronomical price tag she was about to read. "The final total for the bulk fabrics, the reinforced tailoring, and the two hundred and sixteen complete outfits... that will be exactly four hundred thousand Spirit Credits, sir."

Silas simply pulled his sleek black Spirit Phone from his pocket.

He leaned forward and tapped the glass screen directly against the glowing merchant terminal.

Beep!

[Transaction Approved. 400,000 SC Deducted.]

The machine chimed a cheerful high-pitched confirmation tune that sounded absurd given the sheer volume of wealth that had just changed hands.

The three clerks stared at the terminal.

Their brains completely short-circuited.

He actually paid it... He dropped four hundred thousand liquid credits on tailoring without batting a single eye.

Silas stepped back from the counter.

He focused his mind on the massive, towering piles of high-end clothing, the heavy wooden crates of premium thread, and the massive spools of raw silk stacked dangerously high near the front glass doors.

He triggered a subtle pulse of his Lord energy.

The spatial fabric around the massive haul violently warped.

In a single seamless distortion, the entire inventory completely vanished from the boutique floor. It was pulled directly into the infinite void of his digital storage.

The clerks gasped collectively, staring at the suddenly empty hardwood floor in absolute, unadulterated bewilderment.

"Perfect..." Silas muttered, adjusting the cuffs of his dark shirt.

He turned his back on the counter, fully intending to push the heavy glass doors open and step back out into the late afternoon air.

"W-wait! My Lord!"

Silas paused, his hand resting on the brass door handle. He slowly looked over his shoulder.

The blonde lead clerk practically sprinted out from behind the marble counter.

Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant crimson as she held a small, highly expensive piece of embossed paper in her trembling hand.

The woman bypassed her terror, heavily motivated by the fact that she had just secured the largest commission bonus in the history of the boutique, combined with the raw physical magnetism radiating from Silas’s body.

"My Lord, a client of your... immense caliber might require future adjustments," the blonde clerk stammered, offering him the paper.

Her eyes darted down to his broad chest before snapping desperately back to his face. "If you ever need direct, personal tailoring... or anything else delivered to your private estate... you can contact me directly. Day or night."

She was shooting her shot. She was fully offering to join the bizarre two-hundred-woman harem she assumed he was running!

Silas looked at the paper.

He recognized the value of a dedicated high-end supply line so he reached out and took the paper, slipping it into his pocket.

"I’ll keep that in mind," Silas said smoothly. "Who am I asking for?"

"E-Elise, my Lord," she breathed out with her knees practically buckling. "And... may I ask the name of my best client? I’m sure that Iorno name was a fake one, was it sir?"

Silas didn’t hesitate..

"You may call me Silas Graves..." Silas sighed.

"Lord Graves," Elise repeated, committing the name to memory like a religious mantra. "Thank you for your patronage."

Silas pushed the heavy glass doors open and stepped out into the cold evening air of the commercial plaza.

He took a deep breath, letting the chill cool his skin.

Earth had nothing left to offer him today.

He walked down the pristine marble steps, heading straight for his parked mag-cab.

"THERE HE IS!"

Silas stopped perfectly still. He let out a long deeply exhausted internal sigh.

’What kind of absolute garbage luck is this?’ Silas thought bitterly with his cold blue eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

He slowly turned his head.

Marching down the cobblestone sidewalk was the exact same highly obnoxious Arrogant Young Master he had backhanded across the boutique twenty minutes ago.

The teenager’s right cheek was currently swollen to the size of a grapefruit, glowing a vibrant bruised purple.

He was pointing a shaking finger directly at Silas but the kid wasn’t alone this time.

Walking exactly one pace ahead of the crying teenager was a tall, heavily armored man.

He wore an intricate, master-crafted set of silver-and-black plate armor etched with the rampant lion crest of the Blackwood Consortium.

A massive glowing two-handed broadsword rested casually across his right shoulder.

This was the older brother.

’Lords can’t scan other Lords signatures... but I can tell from a glance, this guy is strong.’

Both Silas and Valerius thought as they looked at each other, Valerius immediately knew that he was stronger but this strange guy... He had too much of a presence to be mistaken for a mere commoner!

’What hidden influential being has my stupid younger brother gone to argue with now?’ Valerius thought, it was obvious this guy was not common.

"That’s the slum-rat, Valerius!" the younger brother shrieked, hiding safely behind the older man’s heavy silver pauldron. "He hit me! He humiliated the Blackwood family name! Break his legs! I want his core shattered right here in the street!"

Silas didn’t reach for his sword that was in his inventory.

He simply squared his heavy shoulders, locked his cold blue eyes directly onto Valerius and let a bit of his Gold Core mana bleed directly out of his pores.

The gravity around Silas physically increased as the cobblestones beneath his boots gave a microscopic, audible crack.

Valerius stopped walking instantly.

That confirmed it, the man standing in the plain black shirt wasn’t a slum-rat...

The aura radiating from him felt like staring directly over the edge of a bottomless pitch-black abyss.

Every single combat instinct in Valerius’s nervous system violently triggered, screaming at him to draw his broadsword and retreat immediately.

’If I swing at this man,’ Valerius realized with clarity, ’I will die before my blade leaves my shoulder.’

"Are you deaf, Valerius?!" the younger brother whined, violently tugging on the older man’s cape. "I said break his—"

PAH!

Valerius spun around and delivered a brutal, armored backhand directly across the uninjured side of his younger brother’s face.

The teenager yelped, completely spinning out and collapsing onto the cobblestones for the second time that hour, clutching both sides of his face in shock.

"Shut your mouth, you miserable idiot," Valerius hissed as his voice trembled with barely suppressed rage.

This person was probably some undercover Billionaire son with those looks and his younger brother was ruining it.

Valerius turned back to face Silas.

The arrogance was completely gone.

He sheathed his heavy broadsword with a smooth non-threatening motion, ensuring both of his hands were clearly visible.

He took two steps forward and offered a crisp, highly respectful, deep military bow.

"My deepest apologies, sir," Valerius stated clearly. "My younger brother is a completely sheltered imbecile. He has absolutely no eye for Mt. Tai... He mistook a roaming dragon for a commoner!"

’Wait, Mt. Tai does exist in this world!’

Regardless he needed to act the part so he could get out of here.

"You have a smart head on your shoulders," Silas said coldly. "Keep him on a shorter leash."

"I intend to," Valerius agreed, refusing to break eye contact. "I am Valerius Blackwood, Vice Guildmaster of the Azure Lion Vanguard. We are actively recruiting elite independent Lords. A man with your... terrifying pressure would be granted a permanent seat at the high table."

Valerius smoothly reached into his armored belt and pulled out a heavy, solid-platinum guild card, holding it out between his index and middle finger.

"If you ever seek corporate backing, the Blackwoods will double any offer the Association makes you."