After a few more sips and empty plates piling up on the table, I finally decide to ask how much they made on the bets.

Oliver had said he was broke, but I was almost certain the three of them had made enough money to at least breathe easy for a couple of months.

"So? How much did you pull out of that arena?"

Oliver is the first to answer.

"Well, boss... I made five Plates and ten Shards. Not going to lie. I was scared of losing everything, so I didn’t bet all of my money."

I tilt my head slowly.

I genuinely wasn’t expecting that.

Part of me assumed Oliver trusted my combat ability blindly after everything that happened in Lost Ark. But thinking about it more carefully, that wasn’t it. He trusted my decisions. My plans. Not necessarily the perfect outcome of every single situation.

And honestly?

That was intelligence. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Long-term survival in Thirstfall didn’t come from betting everything on a single roll, no matter how much you believed in the commander in front of you. Oliver wasn’t a coward. He was careful. He survived years precisely because he was already thinking about the next day before combat ended.

"You thought I’d lose?"

Oliver scratches his beard.

"Honestly, I was just being cautious thinking about the future."

I end up smiling.

Good answer.

"And you, Rhayne?"

She was still chewing when she opened her inventory.

A heavy stack of Plates appeared on the wooden table with an absurd metallic sound. A few of the cups even vibrated slightly.

Fourteen Plates.

The amount felt even more surreal because it was surrounded by empty plates she’d left behind herself.

"I got rich," Rhayne declares.

And then, for some incomprehensible reason, she begins to blush.

’How does someone get embarrassed about having money? Maybe the declaration came out too abruptly even for her. Only she can understand herself.’

"Good girl. You did right."

She lowers her eyes a little while holding back a shy smile.

"Don’t spend it all on food. Invest in your future. Buy a definitive armor. If you want, we can find a master blacksmith one of these days, and I’ll help you choose."

Rhayne only nods, still seeming too embarrassed by her own profit.

Then I look at Veric.

His expression already gave it all away.

"And you? Did you also break the bookmaker’s mouth?"

Veric makes a sour face.

"Seriously, how did you all have so much money to bet? What the hell is this? I literally bet everything I had and only made two Plates."

"Money makes money, Veric. You need to learn more from me."

Teasing him was starting to become a habit.

"You bastard. You keep promising me these things and never teach anything."

"You’re right."

I lean forward.

"Time to change that."

I look at Oliver.

"Do you have a feather on you?"

He immediately reaches into his inventory and hands me a long, dark feather. I don’t recognize the creature it came from. Definitely not Lost Ark, where we fought together.

"Thanks."

I hold the tip of the feather and prick my own thumb with it.

Rhayne makes a small grimace when the blood starts to surface.

I use the blood as ink.

The three of them watch as I pull a piece of animal hide from my bag and begin writing carefully.

"We’re going to make a contract under the Ocean’s Law," I explain without stopping. "I want my sincerity with all of you to be clear from the start."

Veric pays attention immediately. He understands the weight of systemic contracts.

"On guild expenses, profits, and everything that comes after... what do you think of thirty-five for fifteen?"

Oliver doesn’t even think to answer.

"No objections."

He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, completely at ease. His confidence in me is scary sometimes when it contrasts with his cautious personality.

"Hold on, Sands." Veric immediately furrows his brow. "If everyone here gets fifteen, the math doesn’t add up."

I let out a heavy sigh.

Rhayne then discreetly pulls Veric’s hand across the table.

She gives him a small no with her head, as if trying to warn him he’d missed something.

"What, Miss Vesper? You disagree too? Want to be robbed?"

"How many people are in your Party Group, Veric? Did your math break that bad?" I ask him, flat.

He freezes for two seconds.

"Fine... you included the little one. But there’s still five percent missing."

"How do you think we’re going to recruit someone from another guild and build a front?"

The silence answers for him.

I didn’t need to explain anything else.

The fifteen percent slices were for Oliver, Veric, Rhayne, and Lola. The remaining five would go to Zhang Xi—my next target.

Thirty-five for me is more than fair, considering that I was behind every part of the idea, the design, and the execution.

A hundred percent closed perfectly.

Veric massages his forehead.

"I hate when you’ve already thought through everything before the conversation even starts."

"Natural talent."

He rolls his eyes.

"It’s getting late," Oliver comments, glancing toward the door. "We’d better head back and rest."

I nod and pass the contract around for all of them to sign.

"Now’s the time for you to make your first Diver Mark, Rhayne."

"How do I do it?"

I take her hand without worrying about the momentary OXI drain. I hold it gently while saying slowly:

"Concentrate a little OXI in the tip of your fingers, and touch the paper just before releasing the OXI."

Rhayne does it carefully. I feel her hand warm under mine as the OXI gathers at her fingertips.

"Perfect. You did it." I look at Rhayne, and she’s redder than a Cayenne pepper.

"I’m sorry..." I say honestly.

"You’re pathetic, Sands..." Veric says, visibly out of patience, pulling the contract toward himself to place his own Diver Mark.

When he finishes, he passes it to Oliver, who also signs.

Then I deliver the first briefing.

"Oliver, since you can’t enter the academy, stay around the campus. As soon as you can, find an appropriate site for the potion factories. If you need money, let me know and I’ll transfer."

"Whatever you say, boss."

After we finish eating and drinking, I pay the bill.

Four hundred Scales. Including the waitress’s tip. If she heard anything, a fat tip would shut her mouth.

[Scales: 51,400 → 51,000]

Rhayne alone consumed three full portions made for two people before finally seeming satisfied.

When we leave the tavern, Azure’s night air hits cold against my face.

And there’s someone waiting for us.

A messenger.

Dressed in formal dark clothing, white gloves, standing exactly beside the entrance of the establishment.

My stomach sinks before he even speaks.

The man approaches in silence and hands me a small folded note, marked with golden letters.

I recognize the seal immediately.

"Ah, shit..." I mutter as I take the paper. "Here we go..."