DKIE CH4: Preparation

With the chaos subsiding, Boulder City handled the aftermath efficiently.

Fifteen minutes later, Luka was relocated to another inn.

Good news—
With official subsidies, this inn was a noticeable upgrade.

Before leaving, the patrol guard informed him, “The compensation will be delivered tomorrow morning.”

Later that night, the city even arranged for an alchemist to examine him. The verdict—just superficial injuries. A few more days of rest, and he’d be fully healed.

Luka curled up in his new lodging, lost in thought.

The arrival of the dragon had scattered the storm clouds, clearing the once-overcast sky. Now, there was no sign of impending rain.

Due to the earlier commotion, many houses had their lights on, illuminating most of the city.
In the glow, the statue of the saint—Boulder City’s most iconic landmark—stood out even more prominently.

After staring at the statue for a moment, Luka suddenly asked, “If one were to cultivate solely through faith, could they reach this level?”

A stupid question.

The quill didn’t even bother responding.

One always became a supreme power first before earning reverence—never the other way around.

The quill had something else on its mind:
How to make this kid die sooner rather than later.

But before that, it needed a new host.
Which meant it had to slip away at some point.

“I’ll report you.”

As if reading its thoughts, Luka rested his chin on one hand and stated casually, without even looking back, “The moment I find you gone, I’ll go straight to the Holy City and turn you in.”

Human experts could trace their blood contract and track down the quill’s whereabouts.

“Don’t forget—you have demon blood in you.” The quill reminded him.

Humans had no love for mixed-bloods.

Luka removed the heavy longbow from his back and sat up straight. “Then we all die together.”

“…”

If not for the blood contract, the quill would’ve torn this infuriating brat to shreds eight hundred times over.

Luka, unfazed, steered the conversation back on track.

As he sifted through various cultivation methods he had read about, he continued asking for details about faith-based power.

The quill scoffed, “And who exactly do you plan on getting to worship you? Kidnapping a few newborns to brainwash?”

If something that crude actually worked, the Holy Magic Continent would’ve been swarming with deities by now.

Luka’s mind conjured an image of the Storm Dragon—
A walking war machine.

A single dragon could raze an entire city.

A seed of thought, once buried in exile, had begun to sprout.

Earlier, everyone had cowered before that immense, overwhelming force.

Everyone except Luka.

Despite his injuries, he had never looked away.

Because he was seeing his future market.

Luka swallowed hard.

“The dragon race.”

“…”

“Sure, sure,” the quill murmured after a brief silence. “You and dragons do have something in common.”

“Really?” Luka lit up.

The quill, razor-tongued as ever, deadpanned, “One can fly. The other wants to.”

If you’re that eager to die, I can help.
Why go through all this effort?

Luka ignored it, only regretting that the patrol guards had arrived too quickly earlier—
He never got the chance to loot the orc’s corpse.

Then again, the alchemist had been blasted to bits, so his gold was probably scattered to the wind.
And if the orc had been desperate enough to rob him, then he was likely even poorer.

After a long night, he had no energy left to bother with a bath.

“Little S, clean spell.”

Say what you will—
Magic worlds were convenient.

One simple spell, and everything was spotless.

After a brief silence, the quill spoke with a faintly concealed killing intent in its tone: “You want me to serve you while you bathe?”

Luka replied politely, “Esteemed Lord Quill, if I remain dirty, I will emit an unpleasant odor. If I stay filthy for too long, lice may begin to infest me. Since you are always with me, you would inevitably be affected as well.”

It had to be said that Luka was exceptionally skilled at persuasion. His description was so vivid that the quill could almost see countless tiny lice crawling up its shaft.

The air shimmered with a soft blue glow as particles of light appeared, bringing with them a comfortable and perfectly tempered warmth.

Encased in water magic, Luka felt a long-lost sensation of warmth, akin to returning to the womb.

Noting the look of contentment on his face, the quill deliberately acted mischievously.

“Hiss.”

A sharp sting on his wound made Luka flinch in pain.

His face turned pale—though whether he was faking it was uncertain. Covered in blood and abrasions, he looked utterly pitiful, like a stray cat.

The quill gazed down at Luka from above. Yet, despite its position of dominance, it found surprisingly little satisfaction from its earlier act of mischief.

For a moment, it couldn’t be bothered to do anything further.

After being cleaned, Luka felt refreshed, as if even the bedding beneath him had grown softer.

Late at night, in the stillness, Luka stared at the ceiling, recalling information about the dragon race.

A species naturally endowed with immense power—if not for their difficulty in reproduction, perhaps humanity and the demon race would have been forced into an alliance against them.

However, it had been over two hundred years since the last dragon hatchling was born. This scarcity led to the dragons being fiercely protective, especially toward their young, whom they cherished deeply.

Hatchlings. Overprotectiveness. Unconditional affection.

Luka quickly extracted a corresponding market keyword: beloved protagonist.

Perhaps writing a story catering to this preference could help bridge the gap between him and the strong.

But given the Holy Magic Continent’s long-standing reverence for strength, would such a literary style even be accepted?

“I’ve heard that dragons possess vast treasures. All-knowing Mr. Alex, may I ask what they typically like to spend their wealth on?”

This time, the quill responded.

Its tone was laced with heavy sarcasm, suggesting that dragons had a penchant for purchasing utterly useless items.

Luka listened quietly, soon forming a basic understanding.

Dragons were the ultimate connoisseurs of niche brands, valuing uniqueness and personalization above all else. Simply put, they were obsessed with being one of a kind.

He raised an eyebrow.

“In that case, there’s plenty of room to maneuver.”

…

The next morning, Luka was awakened by a knock at the door. A patrol soldier had arrived to deliver compensation money.

“Four gold coins in total. Please verify the amount.”

Hearing such nonsense first thing in the morning, Luka was taken aback.

“Does this even need counting?” he asked. He could count them with one hand.

The patrol soldier looked a bit awkward. To say nothing of four— even a single gold coin was no small sum for ordinary people. But phrased like that, it did feel rather stingy.

Using the excuse that he had other compensations to distribute, the soldier quickly took his leave.

Luka suddenly called after him. “Brother, I have a question.”

The patrol soldier, still showing a reasonable level of courtesy toward the injured, paused.

“I’d like to know—what’s the process for publishing a book?”

Even after searching through the original owner’s memories, Luka couldn’t find any relevant information.

The soldier didn’t quite understand why he was asking, but since it wasn’t classified information, he replied, “Through the standard channels, it takes at least three to five years to obtain an official book number.”

On the Holy Magic Continent, most printed works consisted of magical tomes and historical texts.

Only the authorities had the right to publish these, while other genres had to wait their turn.

“And the non-standard way?”

Without hesitation, the soldier responded, “Go to the Rhine family. They handle all kinds of business.”

Luka recalled that yesterday, while waiting in line, he had seen them soaring ostentatiously through the air on their griffins.

Still the same thought—weren’t they afraid of getting struck by lightning?

“The young master of the main branch of the Rhine family returned yesterday. These next few days, he’ll be inspecting stores on East Street. He just took over as the guild leader. If you can convince him, all your problems will be solved.”

The patrol soldier provided a rather detailed explanation, though in reality, he didn’t believe Luka had any chance of success.

The number of people begging to do business with the Rhine family could form a line stretching from Boulder City to the next town—most of them never even got an audience.

After the patrol soldier left, Luka sat in his room, deep in thought.

The quill had long grown accustomed to his whimsical ideas and didn’t even bother asking why he had suddenly veered into the topic of books again.

Luka laid out all his belongings on the table: twelve gold coins and a single spatial scroll.

With a serious expression, he declared, “There’s no turning back.”

Once he left Boulder City, apart from the desolate wastelands, any direction he traveled meant an arduous journey spanning thousands of miles. The spatial scroll could save his life once, but without strength, surviving on this continent would be nearly impossible.

After pondering for a moment, Luka said, “You agreed to help me three times as a bodyguard, but last night, you didn’t even get the chance to fight.”

All the work had been done by the Storm Dragon.

“As an equivalent exchange, rather than expending the same amount of magical energy in combat, why not help me with something else? I’ll count it as two instances instead.”

Seeing that this arrangement worked in its favor, the quill finally showed some interest. “What is it?”

Luka replied, “Wait here for a moment.”

He dashed downstairs, completing his errand in under ten minutes.

When he returned, he was carrying two cloth bags. With a flick of his wrist, he emptied them onto the table, the clinking sound ringing out crisply. In an instant, various pieces of jewelry were scattered across the surface, along with a package containing a brand-new set of inner garments.

These ornaments were purely decorative, crafted from common materials and worth no more than a few silver coins at best. However, in Boulder City, where prices were exorbitantly high, they had nearly emptied Luka’s entire fortune.

Notably, he had gone out without bringing the quill.

Most likely, the quill had been testing him—seeing whether he would attempt to escape. It scoffed, “Did you just clean out some street vendor’s stock of second-hand trinkets?”

“Enchant them.”

Enchantment involved imbuing objects with magical power.

Luka skipped the explanations and went straight to the point. “Engrave mana-suppressing runes onto each one.”

The quill doused his expectations with cold water. “That won’t sell for much.”

Mana-suppressing accessories were among the least marketable enchantments, typically used only on slaves. And for slaves, the cheapest option was always preferred.

Even the gold coins Luka had scrounged up wouldn’t be enough to survive here for long, yet this fool had spent everything on these?

It might as well sit back and watch him starve.

“No, they’re for personal use.”

The quill arched a brow.

Luka only saw it ruffle its feathers and urged impatiently, “Hurry up.”

Completely insane.

The quill thought to itself—his magical presence was already so weak that you’d be hard-pressed to detect it with a lantern.

Wearing enchanted accessories to suppress it further? Was he trying to restrict air itself?

Well, since inscribing a few runes counted as two favors, why not?

Half an hour later, Luka, now satisfied, adorned himself with the jewelry. He carefully tucked the necklace beneath his inner garments and hid the bracelets within his sleeves, concealing them entirely.

With everything in place, he stretched lazily. “Let’s go.”

Time to find a temporary benefactor to tide him over during this darkest hour.

Leaving the inn, Luka strolled leisurely toward another street, observing the era’s customs along the way.

Watching the various races interact, he still found the experience somewhat surreal.

Almost as surreal as his completely empty wallet.

The patrol soldier had mentioned that the young master of the Rhine family would be inspecting shops on East Street today.

There was no need to ask for directions—after walking along the street for only a short while, Luka spotted the familiar griffin parked outside a building, the carriage bearing the family’s unique crest.

“So extravagant.”

Luka gazed at the imposing and majestic griffin, unable to resist stepping closer for a better look.

Achoo—

Just then, the griffin sneezed. Its powerful breath nearly sent the frail young man flying, drawing laughter from the passersby.

Steadying himself against the wall, Luka lifted his gaze just in time to see the full signboard of the shop.

Rare Treasures Pavilion.

The name alone sounded expensive.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside—this time, deliberately avoiding the griffin.

The interior was nothing short of a spectacle.

Not because of the merchandise, but because of the customers.

The ground and first floors gleamed with gold and opulence, bustling with people. In contrast, the upper floors were nearly deserted—yet the stairway leading up was packed with visitors of various races, forming a long queue. Clearly, they weren’t here to shop.

A dwarf, known for his infamously short temper, was speaking humbly to a staff member. “Please, could you relay my request to the guild leader once more?”

Witnessing this, Luka, in his ignorance, turned to a sales assistant and asked, “Excuse me, are the upper floors off-limits?”

It was a foolish question—paired with his near-nonexistent magical presence, it earned him disdainful glances from those nearby.

The sales assistant maintained a professional smile. “The third floor is reserved for VIP clients. Magicians of the eighth tier or higher are also permitted entry.”

“I see.”

The entire Rare Treasures Pavilion specialized in selling precious artifacts. Each item had a detailed description and price listed beside it. Despite the crowd, the atmosphere remained quiet and refined.

Even though Luka had lowered his voice slightly, the keen-eared customers still heard him.

“I’d like to ask—does this establishment purchase valuables?”

The sales assistant nodded. “Of course.”

“Including books?”

The assistant hesitated for a moment. “Magical tomes?”

“Storybooks.”