Chương 33: Apparently, Trash Mobs Can Make You a Billionaire

Matt woke up the next morning, packed the remainder of his gear, and walked outside Trailer C-87. The Kentucky sun was shining, but the oppressive humidity of the Gravetide Camp clung to everything. He looked at the massive, industrial Boot Dryer building humming near the entrance of the plaza.

"Goodbye," Matt said to it. He thought about the squelching, freezing water of the Turbine Chambers.

"No offense." The Boot Dryer, predictably, offered no reply. He walked into the Camp Office to officially check out. The manager who had checked him in was standing behind the counter.

"Changed your mind?"

"No," Matt said, sliding his keycard across the desk.

"Water?" the manager guessed.

"Throughput," Matt corrected. The manager raised an eyebrow.

"…Sure."

"Also water," Matt admitted. He walked back to his site, backed the truck up, and secured the trailer hitch. He disconnected the utilities, locked the storage bins, and did a final check of his National Market shipments. His Rare Stormglass Ring was still listed, but he wasn't worried. The camp fee was already a sunk cost. He was moving on. He pulled onto the main access road, leaving the damp, concrete shadow of the Gravetide Reservoir behind him. He opened his planner.

GRAVETIDE Clear — YES Return — Maybe Long-Term Farm — No He closed the file. He had already selected his next destination last night. He wanted something completely different from the elemental hazard zones he had just survived. He had set his search filters carefully. Rank: E Level: 15–22 Low Fatality Rate Large Market Large Camp Good Solo Rating Environmental Hazards — Low The System had returned a prominent match located further west.

IRON JUNCTION It was built into a massive, abandoned rail yard and underground freight switching station. The reviews were incredibly consistent. Mostly dry.

"Sold," Matt had said last night. He merged onto the interstate. The drive took several hours. Matt didn't rush. He enjoyed the quiet rhythm of the highway. He passed massive, fortified truck stops and sprawling Spatial Cargo depots. He saw dozens of sleek, black-and-silver trucks bearing the Mercer Spatial Logistics logo. He felt a sudden, profound sense of scale. Earlier that week, Walter Mercer had spent eighty-eight billion dollars to reverse his physical age on an international live stream.

Today, his trucks were still hauling freight down I-65. The world hadn't stopped.

"Of course," Matt murmured. Biologically, the man was seventy-three again. And he still had a global logistics empire to run.

"At least he didn't schedule the auction during peak season," Matt noted, thinking of the Q4 shipping nightmare he used to manage. He paused.

"…Actually, he probably checked." He stopped for lunch at a massive Delver-friendly service area. He bought a burger, fries, and a drink. He looked at the receipt. It was twelve dollars.

"… Still expensive." Seeing an eighty-eight-billion-dollar transaction hadn't broken his brain. It was important to recalibrate. As he got back on the road, he realized something. He felt good. He wasn't leaving Gravetide because the Dungeon had beaten him. He had killed the Boss. He had solved the mechanics. He was leaving because the Dungeon's operational efficiency didn't meet his standards. He wasn't running away. He was choosing to leave. He checked his Status while idling in traffic. He was still Level 16.

He still had one unspent Passive Point. Matt didn't allocate it. He wanted to see what Iron Junction demanded first. Mana? Melee Area? More Life?

"One future argument," Matt promised the point. He took Exit 4. The massive billboard spanning the highway didn't say Camp. IRON JUNCTION DELVER DISTRICT Matt blinked.

"… District?" Every location he had visited so far—Black Hollow, Ironvale, Cinderfall, Gravetide—had been a Camp. They were temporary settlements built around the Gate, populated mostly by RVs and temporary structures. As he crested the hill, he saw the reality of Iron Junction. It wasn't a Camp. It was a small city. The RV park alone stretched for miles, divided into perfectly manicured sectors. But beyond the trailers were permanent structures. Massive, multi-story hotels. Dedicated Delver Gear superstores.

Dozens of restaurants and bars. Sprawling Guild branch offices. An enormous reinforced Crafting Hall. A dedicated Hospital. A massive shipping depot. Matt drove the truck slowly down the main boulevard.

"…This is a town." His GPS chimed politely. Arriving at: Iron Junction Camp.

"No," Matt corrected the dashboard.

"That's a town." It made sense when he thought about it. The Dungeon was safe. It was highly accessible. It was E-rank. It had a massive, stable economy. Over fifteen years, it hadn't just attracted transient Delvers; it had attracted permanent residents, corporate investments, and heavy infrastructure. He pulled into the RV park registration building. The facilities were immaculate. Full hookups, high-end security, dedicated package delivery, and market pickup nodes at every site. The weekly fee was $420.

"Four twenty," Matt noted, looking at the pristine concrete pad assigned to him.

"Fair." He parked the trailer. Before he unhitched the truck, he opened the door and stepped out. He looked down at his Boot. He pressed it against the concrete. Nothing happened. No splash. No squelch. No freezing mud. He picked his foot up and stomped it down again. A Camp staff member driving by in a golf cart slowed down, looking at him with mild concern.

"…Everything okay?"

"Dry," Matt stated.

"Yes?" the staff member replied slowly.

"Excellent." Matt turned back to unhitch the trailer. The staff member drove away quickly. Matt spent the afternoon exploring the District. He wasn't going to enter the Dungeon today. He needed to understand the local economy first. He pulled up the District map on his phone. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Gate Plaza. Gear Row. Gem Market. Crafter Hall. Guild Row. Food Court. Auction House. He stopped reading. Card Exchange District.

"…Card Exchange?" He followed the map coordinates, walking away from the central Gear Row. The Card District was incredibly dense. It was packed with dozens of small, brightly lit storefronts. DIVINATION CARDS — BUY / SELL COMPLETE SETS WE BUY ALL COMMON CARDS JACKPOT SETS AVAILABLE Matt stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"… What is a Divination Card?" He had been delving for weeks. He had cleared four different Dungeons. He had never seen one. Matt quickly searched his phone. The answer was simple. Divination Cards were a specific category of loot that entered the global drop pool starting at E-rank. However, the drop rate was heavily dependent on the specific Dungeon's internal weighting. Cinderfall and Gravetide had incredibly low Card densities; Delvers rarely found them unless they spent months farming.

Iron Junction, however, had one of the highest Card drop densities in the country. Matt walked up to a shop with a slightly battered neon sign. GUS'S FULL SET BUY CARDS. SELL CARDS. COMPLETE SETS. NO REFUNDS AFTER REDEMPTION.

"…That last one concerns me." He walked inside. The shop was lined with massive, reinforced glass display cases. Inside the cases, neatly organized, were hundreds of small, thin crystalline plates. The man behind the counter looked up. He was in his fifties, with a thick beard and the scarred forearms of a retired mid-rank Delver.

"First time?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're staring at the Cards like they're decorative."

"They're not?" The man grinned, a wide, predatory smile.

"Oh, you're going to be fun."

"I'm Matt."

"Gus Miller," the man said, leaning on the glass.

"What do you want to know?"

"So what does it do?" Matt asked, pointing at a Card in the case. Gus pulled a cheap Card out of a stack and slid it across the counter. FIVE FORTUNES Divination Card Set Size: 5 Reward: 5 Mana Stones of a Random Rank Current Set: 1 / 5"…Okay." Matt read the UI prompt hovering over the Card.

"Get five," Gus instructed.

"Then?"

"Exchange them."

"To you?" Gus laughed loudly.

"To the System." Gus explained the mechanic. If a Delver collected the required number of Cards to complete a set, they simply gathered them together—in their hands, in their inventory, or in their stash—and triggered the redemption protocol.

"You just say 'Exchange!'" Gus said.

"You have to say it?"

"Yep."

"Out loud?"

"Yep." Matt stared at him. At the back of the shop, another customer holding a stack of Cards suddenly threw his hands up.

"EXCHANGE!" the man yelled. A bright flash of System light engulfed the Cards in his hands. The Cards vanished, replaced by a heavy pair of glowing steel Boots.

"…Apparently very out loud."

"He enjoys the process," Gus shrugged.

"So it's a guaranteed drop," Matt realized, his logistics brain engaging. Unlike normal Dungeon farming, where every kill was a blind roll of the dice across thousands of possible items, Divination Cards offered targeted progression. If the reward listed on the Card was a Rare E-rank Boot, and you completed the set, you were mathematically guaranteed to receive a Rare E-rank Boot.

"It's guaranteed," Gus corrected, "but there's still internal RNG. You get the Boots, but the System still rolls the exact modifiers. It's a focused gamble."

"Show me the safe ones," Matt requested. Gus sighed, clearly disappointed.

"You really are boring. Fine." He pointed to a stack of Cards near the register. FREIGHT PAID IN FULL Set Size: 6 Reward: Crafting Currency Bundle"…I like that name."

"Everyone in logistics does."

"How do you know I'm—""You stared at the loading dock before the weapon shops when you drove in," Gus interrupted.

"…Fair." Gus showed him another Card. THE EMPTY CAR Set Size: 3 Reward: Random Normal E-rank Base Item Matt stopped.

"…How much?"

"That one?" Gus asked, checking the board.

"Twenty-four dollars. Drops all the time. Crafters buy them in bulk." Matt immediately saw the value. It was a guaranteed source of clean Crafting Bases, completely bypassing the RNG of finding them on the ground.

"Interesting."

"I make money," Matt defended his boring choices.

"Fine," Gus laughed.

"You want to know why this District actually exists?" He walked over to a locked, heavily reinforced display case in the center of the room. He didn't pull a Card out. He just pointed at the one resting on the velvet display. FIVE FORTUNES Set Size: 5 Reward: 5 Mana Stones of a Random Rank"Random rank," Matt read aloud.

"There it is." Gus explained the specific mechanics of the Five Fortunes set. When exchanged, the System rolled the rank once. Then it generated five Mana Stones of that exact rank. If it rolled F, you got five F-rank Stones. If it rolled C, you got five C-rank Stones.

"What ranks?" Matt asked.

"All of them."

"…Define all."

"F through SSS." Matt fell silent. He didn't actually know what an S-rank Mana Stone was worth. Gus pulled out a laminated sheet of paper and slid it across the glass. AMERICAN MANA COMMODITY REFERENCE VALUES F — ~$70 E — ~$700 D — ~$1, 000 C — ~$2, 000 B — ~$33, 000 A — ~$670, 000 S — ~$330, 000, 000 SS — ~$3. 3 billion SSS — ~$67 billion Matt stared at the list. He read the gap between C and B, and then the terrifying canyon between A and S.

"Why does it jump that hard?"

"You don't know?" Gus asked, surprised.

"Apparently this is my day for that sentence." Gus leaned on the counter, warming up to the lecture.

"People think a high-rank Dungeon means high-rank Stones drop like candy," Gus explained.

"They don't. An A-rank Dungeon drops C-rank Stones."

"All the time?"

"All the time."

"Then why risk an A-rank Dungeon?"

"Because C isn't the ceiling anymore." As Dungeon rank increased, the drop weighting for the highest-tier Stones plummeted. A natural A-rank Stone was incredibly rare, even for A-rank Delvers. S-rank Stones were practically myths.

"So how does the world build high-end infrastructure?" Matt asked.

"Mana Compression," Gus replied.

"You take thousands of low-rank Stones, refine them, remove the impurities, and compress them into synthetic high-density cores." But compression was wildly inefficient. The conversion loss, the energy cost, the massive facilities required, and the sheer volume of raw F- and E-rank Stones needed made the process exorbitantly expensive.

"That's why the low-rank Stones are still valuable," Gus noted.

"They're the oil that feeds the refineries. But natural high-rank Stones? A natural A-rank Stone is incredibly stable, highly compact, and has flawless response speed. A-rank is where infrastructure gets hungry." Spatial Expansion. Matter Transfer Gates. Heavy industrial Mana systems. They all ran on high-density cores.

"The reference value for an A-rank is six hundred and seventy grand," Gus said, tapping the paper.

"If you can find someone willing to sell a natural one, you're looking at closer to two million on the spot market." Matt did the math.

"Two million dollars for one Stone."

"Yep."

"Now look back at the Card," Gus instructed, pointing at the Five Fortunes display. Reward: 5 Mana Stones of a Random Rank.

"S-rank reference value," Gus said, his voice rising slightly.

"Three hundred and thirty million dollars. Each." Matt did the multiplication.

"…One point six five billion."

"From five Cards!" Gus laughed, slapping the counter.

"ONE POINT SIX FIVE BILLION!"

"Yes, I can multiply."

"Still can." Matt looked at the small crystalline Card.

"…Okay. That's insane."

"Now you understand why this town is huge," Gus grinned.

"What's the probability?" Matt asked instantly. Gus's grin froze slightly.

"…Ah."

"There it is." The System didn't publish odds. The community relied entirely on crowd-sourced data from fifteen years of exchanges.

"S-rank happens," Gus defended the Card.

"It's ultra-rare, but there are confirmed cases. It's a real dream."

"SS?"

"One."

"One what?"

"One confirmed SS roll."

"…This year?"

"Fifteen years."

"Worldwide?"

"Worldwide." Matt stared at him.

"SSS?"

"None."

"Ever?"

"Ever." Matt looked back at the Card.

"Then why is SSS on the reward pool?"

"Because it can happen," Gus insisted.

"Has it?"

"No."

"…Those are different sentences, Gus." Matt ran the theoretical SSS jackpot through his head. Sixty-seven billion dollars per Stone. Five Stones. Three hundred and thirty-five billion dollars. And that was just the reference value. A natural SSS Stone had never even hit the open market.

"So the theoretical jackpot is three hundred billion dollars," Matt summarized.

"More, probably," Gus nodded eagerly.

"And nobody has ever hit it."

"Yet."

"…Terrible word." Matt shook his head.

"These are terrible odds."

"I told you," Gus shrugged, completely unapologetic.

"It's gambling."

"Why not just sell the Cards?"

"Plenty of people do!" Gus laughed.

"That's why I'm here. I buy them from players who don't want to roll the dice. I complete the sets. I resell them to syndicates, or streamers, or high-rollers who want the thrill."

"I'll buy every Five Fortunes you bring me," Gus promised.

"To resell?"

"Sometimes." Gus grinned.

"And the rest? I have hobbies."

"…Of course you do." Gus leaned closer.

"Look. If your goal is reliable money, sell the Card. If your goal is to have a story nobody shuts up about for twenty years..." He tapped the glass above the Five Fortunes display.

"Exchange."

"Sell," Matt answered instantly.

"Everyone says that the first day," Gus warned him.

"I'll continue saying it." Matt looked around the shop, taking in the sheer volume of inventory.

"Where do these drop?" he asked.

"Bosses? Elites?"

"Sure."

"Normal monsters?"

"Yep." Matt stopped. He looked closely at Gus.

"…Any normal pack can drop a jackpot Card."

"Now you're getting it." In Ironvale, Matt killed a trash mob to get a seventy-dollar Mana Stone. In Iron Junction, every single trash mob he killed had a microscopic, infinitesimal chance to drop a Card that could theoretically fund a small nation. And even if he didn't hit the jackpot, the Cards themselves had immediate, liquid value. He didn't have to complete the set. He could just sell the single Card to Gus. Matt looked at the buy board hanging behind the counter.

TODAY'S BUY PRICES Freight Paid in Full — $38 Right of Way — $115 The Empty Car — $24 Five Fortunes — $96"Ninety-six dollars for one Card," Matt read.

"Today. From a normal monster. Potentially." Matt smiled.

"…I like Cards."

"There he is," Gus laughed. Matt walked out of the shop, looking down the sprawling avenue of the Card District.

"So this whole District exists because monsters occasionally drop collectible gambling receipts," Matt summarized. Gus had called it an offensive simplification.

"Is it wrong?" Matt asked himself.

"… No." He pulled up the public Dungeon Guide for Iron Junction. The monsters were exactly what you would expect in a haunted train yard. Rail Goblins. Yard Skeletons. Switch Hounds. Cargo Brutes. Fast, physically oriented, and relatively fragile. There were no massive, floor-covering environmental hazards. The danger came from mechanical Rail Switches and moving freight platforms, but those were easily avoided if you paid attention. Environmental Hazard: Low Water: None"… Beautiful."

Matt opened his COPY UI and reviewed his build. Cleave + Multistrike. With the Melee Area of Effect Passive he had picked up in Cinderfall, his Cleave covered a 2. 1-meter arc. If Iron Junction was a dry, safe, high-density Dungeon where the primary goal was to kill as many normal monsters as humanly possible to trigger the Card drop pool... He was perfectly built for it. He briefly thought about Fortune's Harness. Item Rarity: +50% Did Item Rarity affect Divination Card drops?

He quickly searched the community forums. The consensus was overwhelmingly negative. Item Rarity affected the tier of the equipment that dropped—Normal to Magic, Magic to Rare. It did not increase the sheer volume of items, nor did it influence the entirely separate Divination Card drop tables.

"… Of course." The System wasn't going to let him break the casino that easily. If he wanted Cards, he didn't need Magic Find. He needed kill speed. He needed throughput. He needed to chop. Matt bought takeout from a crowded restaurant in the Food Court and headed back to Trailer C-87. He sat down at his laptop and opened his planner. IRON JUNCTION Rank — E Recommended — 15–22 Environmental Risk — Low Water — None Card Density — High Farm Style — High Throughput"Promising."

He created a new section for his loot strategy. CARD POLICY Sell valuable singles. Complete cheap practical sets. Do not gamble.

"There." Matt was extremely satisfied with his own self-control. He remembered Gus's warning. Everyone says that.

"…I'm different," Matt assured the empty trailer. He looked at his Gear for tomorrow. Foundry Longsword. Backwater Wall. Windrunner Boots. Combat Belt. Pure Element. Elemental Ring. Rare Ring. He was fully optimized. He was dry. He was in a Camp that smelled like normal food instead of ash or mildew. Matt opened his Dungeon bag to do a final check. Portal Scrolls. Flasks. Spare socks. He looked at the two pairs of spare socks. He took one pair out and put it back in his dresser drawer.

"No water." He hesitated. Matt left the second pair in the bag.

"… Emergency logistics." He typed his final objectives for the morning. IRON JUNCTION — FIRST RUN Goal: Learn monster density. Test clear speed. Confirm Card drops. Boss — NO Fortune's Harness — NO Stay dry — EXPECTED"Finally." Matt closed the laptop. He looked out the window of his trailer. The neon signs of the Card Exchange District cast a faint, colorful glow against the night sky. Beyond the Camp, the massive dark structure of the Iron Junction Gate waited. A new Dungeon. A new loot table.

Matt thought about the Five Fortunes Card. Theoretically, there were billions of dollars waiting to be pulled from the digital ether.

"I'm selling the Cards," Matt promised himself firmly. He turned off the light.

"…Probably."