Global Lords: Building the Strongest Civilization with SSS Rank Talent-Chapter 51: TRADING FLOOR - RESOURCE EXCHANGE

Red sat at a circular marble table with Gorr and the Rotting Druid. It was the "Swamp-Mountain Clique."

"Ignore the flashlight," Gorr grunted, pouring a flagon of spectral ale. "He’s Rank 9 because he spawns in the sunlight. If he spawned in a cave, he’d be a glow-worm. Not to mention, he is incredibly lucky with the traits and talent he got at the start and at rank 5."

"Oh... do you know what his talent does? You fought with him." Red asked curiously as he thought, ’So we get to pull another roll at rank 5. I guess... after that it would be at rank 10?’

Gorr shook her head. "I do not. But his battle IQ is very high. Perhaps..." Gorr glanced at Red. "Yeah... he is just like you when it comes to wars. Using cheap and honorless tactics. I hope you don’t become like him when you rank up."

"That’s not happening."

"Ahem!" Druid cleared his throat. "If you two are done flirting, let’s focus on the matter on hand."

"Aurelius controls the grain belts to the West," the Druid muttered, his leafy fingers tracing the table. "He has the population. Population means Faith. Faith means Rank. It is the meta."

Red adjusted his cufflinks. "So, he’s a trust fund baby."

"Essentially," the Druid nodded. "Now, Rubedo. You wore a suit. You look like a merchant. What are you selling?"

Red tapped the table. A small projection appeared: A barrel of white, viscous sludge.

[ OFFER: NUTRIENT PASTE (TIER 1) ]

[ QUANTITY: 5,000 BARRELS ]

[ PROPERTIES: HIGH CALORIE / GROWTH ACCELERATOR ]

"Slop?" The Druid sneered. "You are selling mud?" 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"I am selling Efficiency," Red corrected. "One barrel feeds fifty workers for a week. No hunting or cooking. They won’t get sick or have dysentery."

Gorr leaned in. Her stone eyes narrowed. "My moles dig slow when they hunt for worms," she admitted. "They waste hours. If I feed them this..."

"They dig for twelve hours straight," Red finished.

"I’ll take 2,000 barrels," Gorr slammed her tankard down. "I trade Cut Granite and Raw Gold Ore."

"Deal," Red smiled.

From the Apex Throne, Aurelius’s booming laugh interrupted them.

"Oh, look!" Aurelius pointed a golden finger at Red’s projection. "The Sewer God is selling gruel! How quaint. My Paladins dine on roasted boar and sun-ripened grapes. But I suppose rats must eat trash."

The room chuckled nervously.

Red didn’t look up. He just swiped the [ ACCEPT TRADE ] button on his interface.

"Let him laugh," Red whispered to Gorr. "Gold doesn’t fill a belly in winter. When the famine hits the Human Kingdoms... we’ll see who laughs."

While the Gods traded resources, their "+1s" mingled on the periphery of the hall. It was a strange gathering of monsters, spirits, and cultists.

Iron-Scale leaned on his silver-skulled cane, looking impeccably dapper in his black vest. He walked with the grace of a predator in a tuxedo.

He approached a Magma-Kin—a hulking brute made of dripping lava rock, the bodyguard of the Volcano God.

"Terrible weather for igneous rock," Iron-Scale chirped politely. "The humidity must make you crumble."

The Magma-Kin grunted, steam hissing from its vents. "Heat good. Cold bad."

"Profound," Iron-Scale nodded.

He moved on. He spotted a Robed Cultist serving the Floating Eye God. The Cultist was twitchy, his skin pale, whispering to himself.

"Greetings," Iron-Scale smiled, tipping his hat. "I admire your master’s... vision. Very panoramic."

The Cultist stared at Iron-Scale with bloodshot eyes. "The Eye sees all! The Eye sees the cracks in the world!"

"Does it?" Iron-Scale stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Does it see the Western Border? The Knights in blue?"

The Cultist blinked. "The Sun-Men? Yes... yes. They burn the shrines. They hunt the monsters. The Eye is afraid."

Iron-Scale’s smile sharpened.

’Intel acquired.’

"Interesting. So the Heroes are aggressive. Thank you, friend."

He continued his patrol. Finally, he stopped near the base of the Apex Throne.

Two Solar Paladins stood guard there. They were human—or at least, they looked human. They wore golden plate armor and looked down at the lizard in the suit with undisguised disgust.

"Move along, beast," one Paladin scoffed. "You’ll stain the carpet."

Iron-Scale stopped. He adjusted his monocle.

"I was just admiring the craftsmanship," Iron-Scale said smoothly. "Gold plate. Soft metal. Heavy. Not very practical for the swamp."

"We do not fight in swamps," the Paladin sneered. "We fight on the plains. Where we can charge."

"Ah," Iron-Scale tapped his cane on the floor. "Charge. Straight lines. Predictable."

"What did you say?"

"I said," Iron-Scale bowed low, "you have very shiny armor. It will make a lovely target."

Before the Paladin could draw his sword, which wouldn’t work in the Truce Zone anyway, Iron-Scale tipped his hat and sauntered away, his tail swishing behind his coat tails.

Back at the main table, the trading was winding down.

Aurelius stood up on the throne. He clapped his hands, the sound like a thunderclap.

"Enough bartering!" Aurelius commanded. "I grow bored of watching you swap rocks and mud. Let us discuss the real threat."

The room went silent. Even the Druid stopped sneering.

"The Glitch," Aurelius announced.

Red froze. ’The what?’

Aurelius projected a map of the entire continent. To the far North, beyond the mountains, a section of the world was... missing. It wasn’t black like the Void. It was static. Pixelated white noise eating the edge of reality.

"The Northern Sector is destabilizing," Aurelius explained, his voice losing its mocking tone for the first time. "The System is failing there. The texture is unloading."

"It expands," a Water Goddess whispered fearfully. "My rivers flow into it and do not return."

"We suspect," Aurelius said, looking at Sylara on the High Balcony, "that the World Boss of the North has awakened. And it is eating the code."

Red looked at the map. The static was far away, but it was spreading.

"World Boss?" Red whispered to the Druid.

"A Native God," the Druid replied, looking pale. "Rank 50? Rank 100? No one knows. We call it The Void-Eater. If it wakes up fully... there is no game. The server crashes."

Aurelius smiled again, the arrogance returning.

"But fear not, little gods! I, Aurelius, am building a Grand Alliance to march North! I will lead the charge to slay the Glitch!"

He spread his arms.

"I require Tribute. Gold. Mana. Soldiers. Send them to the Sun Spire. Invest in me, and I will save your pitiful little biomes."

Gorr spat on the floor. "He wants us to fund his leveling grind," she grumbled. "He wants to kill the World Boss to hit Rank 50 and become Admin."

Red looked at the static on the map. Then he looked at Aurelius.

"A pyramid scheme," Red noted. "He’s using the apocalypse to tax us."

"And if we don’t pay?" Red asked.

"Then, when the Glitch comes," the Druid whispered, "he won’t send his Paladins to save you."

Aurelius looked down at the room, his eyes burning gold.

"The collection baskets are by the door," Aurelius beamed. "Don’t be stingy. Salvation is expensive."

As the gods lined up, grumbling, to drop resources into the Golden King’s coffers, Red stood up.

"Are we paying?" Iron-Scale asked, returning to Red’s side.

Red buttoned his jacket. He looked at the Golden King on the throne.

"Not a copper," Red said.