After dumping all the work on Rimuru, Lucian went to the Innkeeper verse — specifically, the Midnight Inn.
Well, "dumping" was a strong word. He'd technically solved the village's biggest problem: food shortage. After the battle with the Orcs, once the dust settled and everyone gathered around to discuss the aftermath, it had been Rimuru who first proposed forgiving the Orcs. She had promised the Orc Lord before devouring him completely, and Lucian had agreed.
The Ogres weren't thrilled at first, but once Rimuru clarified that forgiveness didn't mean a free pass — the Orcs would repay their debt through labor and rebuilding — they accepted.
That, however, left them with the next headache: food.
Even if they started farming immediately, it would take at least three months to see the first sprouts, and half a year for a decent harvest. Feeding a million Orcs, each with appetites two or three times that of a human, was a logistical nightmare.
Rimuru had her agricultural ideas, Rias had offered to import food from Earth — but the cost would be astronomical.
Lucian had other plans.
He considered simply hopping to another world with the Essence of Nomad and bringing back food. The problem? He'd either need to buy it or steal it. He was fine with either, but stealing a few million tons of food might draw some unwanted cosmic attention.
Then, inspiration struck.
The Innkeeper verse — a cultivation-dominated verse with millions of worlds and billions of people — would have more than enough surplus food. And Lucian, as always, had a way to make quick money.
He wasn't planning to cheat anyone. He'd trade.
With the Essence of Typhon, he could create near-limitless poisons and their corresponding antidotes. So he did just that — crafting a toxin strong enough to kill an Awakened Demon Lord, stored inside a bottle forged from the antidote itself.
He didn't know how that power would scale here, but he wasn't worried about getting scammed. He could remake it in half a minute flat, the antidote in five.
---
When he arrived at the Midnight Inn, he noticed the place was in partial lockdown — no one could go in or out.
Typical.
The Innkeeper, Lex Williams, wasn't around, and his System was apparently running itself ragged trying to identify the "anomaly" that had just walked in. Lucian couldn't really blame it.
The Innkeeper verse ran on Dao and laws of balance. The Essences, especially Typhon's, were something else entirely — too complex, too complete, their very presence bending the Dao around them.
The System classified him as a Sovereign Race, something that sounded more myth than fact, though in reality, he wasn't actively using any power. Ironically, that meant he could be crushed by any half-decent Dao Lord in this world… but if he did use his Essences, the Dao would probably scream and collapse from confusion.
Paradoxical, yes. He found it funny.
But right now, he was here to trade.
The Inn's trading hall was quiet due to the lockdown. He could've stayed, but he remembered from reading The Innkeeper that Lex frequently dealt with one company in particular — the Infinity Emporium, a merchant empire run by the Powells.
He didn't need the Inn to travel. With Nomad, he simply teleported straight to the nearest branch.
---
He appeared at the gates of a sprawling golden building on a strange, vibrant planet. The sign above shimmered faintly: Infinity Emporium.
"Welcome to the Infinity Emporium, sir," greeted the man at the counter — a Powell, no doubt, polite and professional.
"Hi," Lucian said easily. "You guys buy stuff too, right? Not just sell?"
"So long as it has value," Powell replied smoothly, "we'll take it."
Lucian placed the bottle on the counter — a glassy, pale-blue container humming faintly with spiritual energy. "Poison inside, antidote outside," he explained casually.
Powell blinked, then carefully took it to the back for evaluation.
When he returned, his face was beaming. "A most exceptional find, sir! The Emporium will be very interested. After the trade, you'll be granted Level 8 membership privileges — access to facilities, auctions, and…"
Lucian waved him off. "Let's just talk about the deal."
"Of course!" Powell said quickly.
Lucian laid it out clearly: "I want food — enough for three million people for one year. It doesn't need to be prepared meals. Grains, preserved meat, stuff that lasts. Anything left from my budget goes to getting me the best spatial storage device you've got — easy to carry."
Powell nodded, jotting down the order. "The food can be ready for transfer within the hour. The spatial device, however, may take a few days."
Lucian frowned. "How am I supposed to carry that much food without the ring?"
"We can arrange for delivery," Powell offered.
"Nah," Lucian said, smirking. "I'll be back in four days. Keep it ready."
And with that, he vanished.
---
He didn't go back to the Cardinal World. The thought of dealing with the post-war paperwork was enough to kill his mood. This was technically a "supply run" — he could take a few days to enjoy himself.
So, Lucian wandered.
The planet was a beautiful blend of simplicity and strangeness. Wide plains rolled beneath turquoise skies, dotted with sleepy villages and low, wooden homes. There were no towering skyscrapers here — just two-story buildings with tiled roofs and lazy smoke drifting from chimneys.
He spent an afternoon watching a street show — cultivators juggling glowing fireballs mid-air, balancing atop a twenty-man human pyramid that climbed high enough to touch the clouds. When the crowd erupted in cheers, Lucian clapped along, genuinely impressed.
"Now that's balance," he muttered, amused.
Later, at a small town square, he found a man painting portraits. The artist looked half-asleep, his easel battered and his brush trembling from age. Lucian stopped, curious.
"Would you like one, sir?" the artist asked politely, voice hopeful but tired.
Lucian nodded, sitting down. "Sure. Haven't had a portrait in… ever, actually."
The painter studied him for a long moment. "Strong presence," he murmured. "Hard to capture."
Lucian smiled. "Don't worry, I'll stay still."
Half an hour later, he held the finished work — rough but sincere, his likeness painted against the golden fields of the town. It wasn't perfect, but there was something warm about it.
Lucian slipped him a small bag of silver coins — far more than the usual payment.
The man's eyes went wide. "This is—sir, I can't—"
"Sure you can," Lucian said lightly. "Finally someone who appreciates art, right?"
The old painter chuckled softly, bowing low. "Bless you, traveler."
Lucian tucked the portrait under his arm and kept walking, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
---
Over the next few days, he wandered from village to village, sometimes stopping to eat at local inns or chat with farmers. The food was simple — spiced grains, roasted meats, and sweet fruit wines — but delicious all the same.
He caught a small festival one night: lanterns hanging across narrow streets, laughter spilling from every corner. Cultivators and civilians alike danced together, the difference between them blurred under the soft glow of celebration.
Lucian bought a fried pastry from a stall and leaned against a post, watching the fireworks flare overhead.
It was oddly peaceful.
For a man who'd fought demons, dragons, and monsters, this quiet normalcy felt refreshing — like catching his breath after running for miles.
---
At one point, he saw a cultivator challenge a short-faced bear nearly the size of a wagon. The match drew a small crowd, and Lucian joined in, munching on roasted chestnuts. The bear roared, swinging massive claws, but the cultivator ducked and landed a flying kick square on its jaw. The beast toppled with a ground-shaking thud.
The crowd erupted, and Lucian grinned. "Ten points for style."
When the cultivator later passed by, he clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice kick."
The man blinked, then bowed quickly. "Thank you, senior!"
Lucian just laughed. "Senior, huh? Do I look old?."
---
Between all the walking, the eating, and the occasional sightseeing, he found himself thinking — not deeply, just idly.
Systems, he mused. In this verse, they're everywhere, but no one really knows what they are.
He remembered from the Innkeeper novel how Lex, the protagonist suspected Systems were formations — laws of reality woven together.
But were they alive? Could they be considered monsters?
He hummed at the thought, then shook his head. "Bad idea, Lucian. Last thing I need is a cosmic tantrum because I decided to test that theory."
The power of Typhon was terrifying enough without adding "System Slayer" to his résumé.
---
By the time the fourth day arrived, Lucian had toured half the region, gathered a few souvenirs, and managed not to cause a single interdimensional incident — an achievement in itself.
He returned to the Infinity Emporium, greeted once again by Powell's professional smile.
"Everything's ready?" Lucian asked.
"Of course, sir," Powell said, sliding a sleek silver ring across the counter. "This spatial device holds one hundred cubic kilometers of space and remains stable even in distorted or shattered dimensional zones. The food you requested has already been stored inside."
Lucian picked up the ring, inspecting it briefly. "Good work."
Powell bowed slightly. "Infinity Emporium is honored to serve."
Lucian slipped the ring onto his finger and grinned. "Great. Time to face the paperwork apocalypse."
Powell blinked. "Pardon?"
"Nothing," Lucian said, chuckling as he vanished into thin air.
The Inn's air rippled in his wake, and the Powell attendant sighed softly, shaking his head. "Mysterious customers… always the richest."
---
And somewhere, back in the Cardinal World, a mountain of documents waited on Rimuru's desk — stamped with one very familiar signature line:
"Deferred to Lucian."
A/n: Wrote it while half asleep, I think it still turned out decent. Would you like more such chapters?