I order a round of drinks before I even start talking about the plan.

After what just happened in the arena, I need them relaxed. Veric most of all. The prince is still wound too tight—that restless energy you get after hours cycling between adrenaline, fights, and the real fear of losing someone.

For myself, I order Lunaria juice with a shot of alcoholic tonic.

The taste reminds me of Blood & Sand—that old Earth drink, whisky and orange juice. The tonic here delivers the same heavy warmth down the throat, but the Lunaria leaves a fresher acidity at the end, almost floral. Strangely pleasant.

Rhayne asks for water with a little straus.

The crushed plant lightly carbonates the liquid and cuts down that persistent metallic taste almost every water source in Thirstfall carries.

"I don’t really like alcohol," she comments. "I’m not used to it."

Veric pays an immediate, suspicious amount of attention to that answer.

The man spent an hour drinking with me and his father in the castle’s meeting room, and now, suddenly, he changes his entire palate without hesitating.

"I’ll follow Miss Vesper’s lead and pass on alcohol today."

I narrow my eyes.

That’s far too suspicious for an Azure prince.

"Are you into Rhayne, Veric?"

The effect is immediate. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

He chokes on his own saliva, coughing miserably while trying to formulate any minimally dignified defense. Beside him, Rhayne goes red so fast it looks like a trigger-activated skill.

"What?!" they say almost in unison.

Oliver lets out a nasal laugh.

"I’ll have what Dryden’s having. The boss has good taste."

I ring the small bell on the table to call service.

A woman in her thirties enters the private room shortly after. Well-dressed, professional posture, hair tied back. My perception detects no energy signature on her. No runes, no system, no ranks.

A native drowned.

I order the drinks, a stew of Thirstfall seafood, and slices of Lunaria as a side.

"Sometimes I miss Earth food," Oliver says, settling into his chair.

Veric and Rhayne nod in silence.

The ingredients here follow the same biological logic as Earth. There are vegetables, fruits, roots, meats, and legumes. The problem is that everything seems to have been reinterpreted by an alien ocean and catalogued by the System under absurd names.

Five minutes later, the food arrives.

The aroma of the stew dominates the room almost immediately—salty, strong, with ocean herbs that remind me of toasted seaweed. Veric looks at the steaming pot in the center of the table, then at me.

Visibly anxious.

"Come on, Sands. Spit out what you’ve got to say."

I look at the three of them.

Then I drop the bomb in the middle of the table.

"We’re going to start a guild."

Rhayne is so startled she chokes on her own flavored water.

She spits the liquid right into Veric’s face.

The prince stays completely still, blinking slowly while water runs down his nose and jaw.

Oliver explodes into a laugh so honest it probably travels through the wooden partitions and invades the other private rooms of the tavern.

Their reaction is the only obviously logical one.

Building a guild in Thirstfall as a Rank D is almost a joke. The System demands an obscene amount of Scales just to open the official registry, and every new member generates ongoing maintenance fees. The world sabotages every attempt at collectivism to push people toward the most brutal form of individualism possible.

And that doesn’t even count the main problem.

Who would follow a Rank D Warden?

I don’t have enough notoriety to inspire confidence. Not yet. Outside the smaller arenas and the local rumors, I’m just another fighter trying to stay alive.

But that’s only the start of the plan.

I smile at the three of them.

"I think Cassio hit your head too hard," Veric growls while drying his face with a handkerchief. "You’ve lost the last of your mind."

"But... but, Dryden..." Rhayne asks, still a little shaky from the startle. "How are you going to do that?"

Oliver completely ignores the insanity of the conversation and attacks the stew with his spoon.

His military experience speaks louder here.

From my earlier plays, Oliver has already picked up on one important thing: when I look this suicidal, there’s usually some monstrous logic hidden behind it.

"Today is a good day!" he declares between two spoonfuls.

He raises his cup in my direction.

I accept the toast.

The alcoholic tonic burns going down, and the Lunaria cleans the taste right after.

Then I begin.

"First, we’re going to manufacture the LDP Potion."

The silence shifts immediately.

"Success in the open market is going to come fast," I continue, lowering my voice a notch. "When the brand explodes, we tie it to the guild. Not to the leader. Not to my Rank. To the brand."

Rhayne furrows her brow.

Veric stops wiping his face.

"Wait... you want to turn a product into a recruitment symbol?" he asks slowly.

I point at him.

"Exactly."

The silence gets heavier.

It’s commercial logic with sharp teeth. Anyone raised watching giant corporations dominate through brute force, tradition, or political influence learns to fear it on sight. Tying institutional identity to popular consumption was something else.

It was social infiltration.

"And that’s still just the surface."

I wipe my fingers slowly before continuing.

"I know a method for fast capital extraction through cleaning old OXI ducts. We’re not going to recruit on the streets of Azure. We’re going to hire a smaller, already-registered guild to act as our vassal and outsource the services to them. We accumulate capital and expand our brand and our guild from beneath the table."

Now Oliver stops eating.

Veric stares at me as if he’s looking at an academic war criminal.

"We grow under the table," I continue. "While Sharma is hunting for a charismatic leader building a visible guild, we use a front organization. The expansion happens hidden."

The room goes completely silent.

Veric stretches his arm out slowly and rings the bell on the table.

When the waitress opens the door, he doesn’t even look at her.

He keeps staring only at me.

"Bring me Soline liquor," he says in a completely flat voice. "The strongest you have."

The door closes again.

Veric finally exhales through his teeth.

Then he shakes his head slowly.

"I need alcohol..." he murmurs. "You’re a monster, Sands."