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Just to make it clear, the Banished Arms Clan doesn’t work for the lifestyle guild. They work with them.

The majority of potions the clan made are handed over to the Lifestyle Guild, who sells them via registered, verified, and authorized channels from the world system. The guild doesn’t take monetary profits from the clan; they just deduct the payment for the shopping slots. What they ask in return is a quota of potions that the guild could either supply to its members or sell themselves.

With the stellar reputation of the guild, as well as its close partnership with the clan, the clan not only gains enough credits to spend; they also share the bright reputation of the clan.

The prestige of the guild isn’t just for show; it’s also a deterrence to those who are lusting over the lush and verdant lands of the clan.

The guild branch of the Lifestyle Guild couldn’t be missed. It’s a large, semi-modern-styled building that had a huge sign that read: Lifestyle Guild. It also proudly bears the guild’s insignia, something that only official channels or branches were allowed to wear, a rule that is mandated by the law and the world system.

Honestly, the clan could’ve asked to send the package through a courier instead. The guild will be more than happy to ask some people to get the package straight out of the clan gates.

But the clan had always done it this way. They’d personally send a trusted individual to deliver the quota to the doors of the guild, be it the branch guild or the headquarters, whichever’s closer.

It’s a tradition that started since the beginning of the partnership between parties, one that’s still being observed to this day as a sign of respect.

The only time the clan relies on a courier to deliver the goods is either when the clan is in a crisis or if they truly don’t have enough people available.

Either way, this manner of delivery shows the gratitude and respect of the clan for this partnership. That’s why the guild and the clan had always been close.

The interior of the guild sure was busy, as evidenced by how many people were running to and from everywhere. Everybody seemed to have a purpose and had no time to stop and chat for a bit.

"It’s usually not like this," Alex said. "The guild’s busy because of the raids."

"The king lit a fire under a lot of people’s asses because of the dungeon overflow. Now, everybody’s frantic and trying to save their hides."

"The guild was one of the aggrieved parties, actually. Although many people, me included, don’t think that the guild has done anything wrong, in the eyes of the king and the government, they’re one of the responsible parties for the overflow. That’s why every member of the guild’s being pressured right now."

This wasn’t some random gossip that Alex heard from somewhere; this was his personal analysis.

Despite his boisterousness and casualness, Alex wasn’t stupid. Far from it, actually. He’s clever and observant. He would’ve been perfect if he weren’t so loud almost all of the time.

Ren went with Alex to personally see the delivery of the package. They went straight into the guild’s warehouse, where someone warmly greeted Alex and sorted out the package.

As per routine inspection, the personnel passed the sealed package into sensors, which also confirmed the quality and quantity of its contents. Once it’s confirmed, the dude personally signed a stamp on the record that Alex brought with him and bid them farewell.

Ren could tell that Alex wanted to get some insider details from the man, but Ren pulled him away since it’s fairly clear that the man doesn’t have the time.

The atmosphere in the guild was really frantic right now, and honestly? Ren and Alex don’t belong here; therefore, Ren took himself and Alex out of there immediately so they wouldn’t get in the way.

Alex was bummed, but he didn’t stay like that for long. Ren just reminded him that they were supposed to meet up with his party members, and Alex had already forgotten about everything else.

The venue they chose was a place called ’Samson’s Smithy.’ It’s a weapons shop owned by a large but pudgy man called Samson—an expert blacksmith.

"Old Sam! What’s up, my guy! How are you doing!?"

"Don’t touch me, brat; I’m not into dudes." Old Sam snorted and held up his rough and calloused hand to stop Alex from giving him a hug.

Alex continued to annoy the hell out of the poor Smith, while Ren decided to look around for a bit.

The smell of raw ore, the tangy scent of metal and rust, and the lick of heat emanating from that blazing forge at a distance...yes, it’s like Ren was taken to a medieval smithy just now.

However, make no mistake. Just because it looks old in here, it doesn’t mean that it’s not effective.

It’s not like humans haven’t tried relying on technology to create weapons. They have, on many occasions. But still, the personal touch of an experienced smith and the directness and simplicity of hard labor still produce better results.

There are just some things that need some good old elbow grease and a personal touch of human skill that make products much better.

But that may also have something to do with the weird rules of this world... 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"Come on, Old Sam! Don’t be like this. I told you I’m going to pay you soon; I just haven’t had the time to do some dungeon dives lately!"

"And I also told you that, unless you pay your debts first, you can forget about commissioning anything from me! You brat are already very lucky you’ve met me instead. Other smiths won’t even give you a damn chance!"

Ren continued to ignore the bickering that’s happening beside him.

Instead, he’s feasting his eyes on things that he could not only afford but also will never be able to wield.

Weapons...

There’s pretty much every variety of weapon available here: swords, spears, staves, axes...there are even some uncommon varieties like war scythes, chakrams, moonblades, etc.

Some weapons were proudly displayed on glass cases, highlighted with a spotlight and glimmering under the glare of light. These ones were the best crafts that Old Sam was proud of, and most of them start at 15 million credits.

The price tag made Ren’s scalp tingle.

Of course, there were also others. Some that are hanging on a wall of a weapon rack. Although they’re not as flashy or as intimidating as the ones that are on the pedestals, Ren could guess that these are still some good-quality weapons.

Seeing all of these metal toys but not being able to touch or play with them honestly made Ren feel a little sad.

The Banished Arsenal’s martial physique won’t allow him to touch any of this. If he does, lacerations will start appearing on his hands. If he insists on using them, the curse will flare up and will sever his arms. At that point, no miracle could ever return them to him.

Such is the plague that the Banished Arms Clan had to live with.

It’s truly a disadvantage, especially when he thinks about the Weapon Path Realms: the artistic mastery of weapon techniques, the Intent Realm, the Heart Realm, the Weapon and Man Unity, the Domain, and God-level weapon mastery.

All of these provide astonishing bonuses to one’s martial prowess, yet all he could do was stare at them longingly. The curse on his body was so potent that even gauntlets aren’t allowed since those also count as a ’weapon.’

People like him who had the Banished Arsenal physique could only recognize those realms but never be able to achieve them. Sure, his aberrant physique gives a bonus to his physical gains and unarmed combat, but bare flesh could hardly compete against weapons of mass destruction.

Besides, at no point in the story was it ever stated that it’s possible for someone to punch or kick a god to death. In fact, there’s not a single character who made it to the end that didn’t have a weapon; all of them do.

It’s the fate of those who were originally written as random AI-generated mobs.

’Eh, no use in crying over spilled milk, I suppose,’ Ren sighed. He then shifted his gaze to the armors since there are those too.

At the very least, he could wear armor in the future. Although it’s not as comforting as having a trusty steel that could slice through opponents at the start of conflicts, at least it offers him protection.

"Who’s this kid?" Old Sam whispered next to Alex once their bickering was over.

Alex sighed; he certainly didn’t miss the way his cousin’s eyes dimmed at the sight of those sharp weapons. He knows the feeling; he had been in that position once upon a time, after all.

"He’s my cousin." Alex forced a grin on his face. "Watch out for him, Old Sam, because one day, he’s going to shock us all."

"Hmph!"