"A hundred?! You mean we have to defeat that many?!"
"Since it's for two weapons, double that—two hundred."
"Either way, that's too many. Are you sure about those numbers?"
Even though defeating the earth dragon was already a life-or-death struggle, hearing that they’d have to face flying dragons—equally troublesome, if not worse—over a hundred times made the Duke widen his eyes and shout.
"Well, if we don’t do at least that much, the Memory Stone’s effect won’t activate."
But that’s just how anti-specialty weapons have to be made. Once crafted, anyone can wield them to unleash their full power. The problem lies in the arduous process required to imbue them with their special effects—a hurdle that can’t be skipped.
"If you want to make hunting wind dragons or flying dragons even slightly easier, changing the weapon’s materials is one approach. For long-term considerations, upgrading the Memory Stone with anti-dragon properties to a Memory Gem—or even higher, to a Master Gem or Celestial Gem—would help. Then, boosting the css of the fire-attuned Spirit Stone would make the fights even smoother."
Anti-dragon weapons—or rather, anti-specialty weapons—have their attack power determined by the rank of their base materials. For instance, if you repce the materials of a greatbow with higher-quality ones, its effectiveness against dragons skyrockets. Swapping the core material from ancient tree trunks to dragon bones, or using orichalcum or crimson metal instead of mythril—there are plenty of ways to upgrade the weapon’s potency.
"If our house had legendary materials like those, we’d have used them long ago."
"Right."
As is common in games, the rarer the materials used for a weapon, the stronger it becomes. In fantasy stories, this is practically a fundamental trope.
If we followed real-world physics, a weapon’s performance would depend on its structure and materials. But this is a world governed by stats and levels—values that defy scientific expnation.
Best not to dwell on that.
Even if I listed off rare, near-mythical materials, the Duke could only shake his head helplessly. You can’t give what you don’t have.
For enemies weak to fire, fire-attuned Spirit Stones are used in anti-specialty weapons. These stones also have css rankings, from Css 1 (lowest) to Css 10 (highest). Naturally, the higher the css, the harder they are to obtain.
"By the way, out of everything I’ve mentioned, is there anything you can’t prepare?"
"No, nothing. We even have Css 2 Spirit Stones, so it shouldn’t be a problem."
"Wait, Css 2 won’t cut it."
Css 10 materials, of course, can only be obtained by venturing into the highest-difficulty dungeons on the central continent.
Spirit Stones are crystallized manifestations of elemental energy, used to imbue weapons or magical tools with their respective attributes. They start appearing in dungeons of Css 3 and above—Css 3 dungeon boss chests might yield Css 1 or 2 stones, while Css 4 dungeons drop Css 2 or 3. Alternatively, there’s the Spirit Corridor, a special dungeon where spirits are said to gather. Using mining tools or skills there can yield Spirit Stones as well.
But the bottom line is: with the materials the ducal house currently has, the anti-specialty weapons we’d craft wouldn’t meet the firepower needed for the flying dragon dungeon. I’d assumed they’d at least have Css 3 materials.
"...Is it really not doable?"
"No, it’s not. To be blunt, while flying dragons might be manageable, we’d be cking against wind dragons."
I’d finished expining the strategy to fulfill the Duke’s request: a party of two tanks, two healers carried on their backs, and two aerial-attack specialists. But now, at the execution stage, the material ranks avaible for crafting the necessary gear fell short.
"Css 2 wind and fire Spirit Stones won’t suffice."
If they had ancient Elder Treant wood and mythril, I’d assumed equivalent Spirit Stones would exist too. Well, they do exist—just not at the required strength. The gap between Css 2 and Css 3 is significant.
"Css 2 elemental attack power is a 30% boost, same for resistance. Css 3, however, gives 60%. That difference is critical."
Assume a knight’s base stats (without EXBP) at Css 4, Level 100.
Aerial specialization: +30%
Dragon specialization: +50%
Elemental specialization: +60%
Specialization effects stack additively, totaling 140%. But elemental specialization is unique—hitting a weakness doubles its effect. So, attacking a wind dragon (weak to fire) would bring the total to 200%.
This is the framework I’d envisioned for the weapons. A mythril-and-ancient-wood greatbow would be Css 5, with an attack power of 320. Fully upgraded, it could reach +500. Whether the ducal house can supply the materials and funds for that is uncertain, but it’s necessary.
Mixing in the "Mark of the Weak" would ensure the upgrades succeed without breaking the weapon. The final product?
Greatbow of the Fmebound Weakling +100Attack Power: 820 (slightly low for Css 5—greatswords or hammers could exceed 1000).
Add a physical attacker with full stamina investment (400), and the raw attack power hits 1,220. Factoring in skills and other modifiers (set aside for now), this is the baseline. Against a wind dragon’s defenses, sustaining this damage output consistently would be impossible—most attacks would barely scratch it.
This is where specialization matters. A 200% boost turns 1,220 into 3,660—enough to deal meaningful damage. But with Css 2 Spirit Stones, the bonus drops to 60%, crippling the output.
A 60% reduction means roughly 700 less damage—a loss we can’t ignore. More attacks needed → longer fight → greater strain on tanks and healers.
"I see… That big of a drop?"
"I’m curious how you derived those numbers, but we’ll leave that for ter. If Libertus is correct, we must avoid this reduction. The same applies to armor. Hesitating on upgrades would be counterproductive."
After scribbling calcutions on parchment and presenting a rough damage estimate, Cudie nodded in understanding, while the Duke grimaced.
"More damage taken means more burden on the fighters. Logical. But we can’t give what we don’t have."
"Are Spirit Stones that hard to secure?"
"Yes. We’re not hoarding or being stingy. High-quality ones are simply scarce. We buy them whenever found, but it’s never enough."
Ah, so that’s why he’s scowling. Cudie figured it out instantly, and the Duke sighed heavily.
"Even the ducal house can’t buy them? Is logistics that bad?"
This world’s supply chains are wildly uneven. Some things are oversupplied; others, desperately cking.
"The eastern lord dominates mineral trade. Any notable ores end up in his hands."
"Ah."
The eastern Duke—nicknamed the "Aardvark Duke"—was infamous for his gem obsession. If it sparkled, he had to have it.
Of course he’d monopolize Spirit Stones, using his influence to strong-arm merchants.
The game’s lore mentioned this. And now he’s interfering here too.
"Guess we’ll have to start by gathering materials."
"About that… Libertus, could you handle the gathering?"
"Me? I’m just a commoner kid, not even an adventurer. Officially, at least."
The world’s harsh, but I do need to fix this.
"We’ll pay you."
"Hmm… Money’s not the issue here."
"…Right, I gave you funds earlier. Then how about non-monetary compensation?"
"Such as…?"
Solving the Duke’s problems would likely benefit me in the long run.
"Don’t push your luck."
"I know. But, hypothetically… Could you secure nd where I could freely create dungeons?"
"Right after the Stampede? Impossible."
"That’d make gathering Spirit Stones way easier. Was hoping for permission."
But I do need to stake my cims. If I’m going to tackle more dungeons ter, having my own dungeon-building space is essential.
Legally, you can’t just make dungeons. Motchi’s an exception.
"That simple, huh?"
"Well, with the right setup, you can optimize a dungeon for Spirit Stone farming."
The key to efficient gathering is patience and ingenuity. How you streamline collection in dungeons makes all the difference.
"Is this something we could do too?"
"Sure. It takes know-how, though."
The Duke’s eyes sharpened. Cudie sighed audibly.
Lotus’s question made it sound easy—but it’s not. Still, if asked whether it’s possible, the answer is yes.
I called it "simple" because the prep is the hard part.
But if it means getting rare Spirit Stones reliably…
"How?"
"Kids don’t work for free, you know."
The Duke’s scowl deepened.
After the Stampede, leasing nd to a kid for dungeon experiments would be scandalous.
But I’ve got my own agenda. No holding back.
"Also, I never got paid for the anti-specialty weapon intel. I came up with the idea because you asked, and now you want more? How’s that fair?"
"…You pnned this far ahead?"
"I didn’t expect the Spirit Stones to be cking. Thought the weapon talk alone would suffice."
I’ve already compromised plenty. If I back down now, I’ll get walked over.
"Duke, he’s right. His knowledge is logically sound and unprecedented. Expecting it for free is unreasonable."
With Cudie—my guardian—backing me, the Duke groaned.
"…Fine. Private nd’s off-limits, but I’ll arrange dungeon-creation rights through the Adventurers’ Guild."
"Somewhere discreet, please."
"Fine."
The Duke’s endorsement means the Edelgard House would oppose me if I cause trouble—but I’ve no ill intentions.
"Now, about that ‘easy’ Spirit Stone method…?"
"There’s a dungeon called the Spirit Corridor—no monsters, just mining for Spirit Stones. I know how to make one."
"What kind of convenient dungeon is that?!"
In the game, I farmed it endlessly. But to the Duke, it must sound unreal.
"Cudie, have you heard of it?"
"No, this is my first time."
"Really?"
Even the "Living Legend" doesn’t know? Then almost no one does.
In the game, it was easy to find…
"Alright, here’s the expnation: To reach the Spirit Corridor, you just need a spirit to take you there. Simple, right?"
"……"
"Uh… Not clear enough?"
"No, I expected something convoluted. This is too straightforward."
"True. I thought it’d involve some perilous journey, but spirits dwell in nearby forests. Doesn’t sound too hard."
"Ah, but you’ll need at least a mid-tier spirit."
"That’s not simple?!"
His perfect straight-man retort came as I casually dropped the catch.
If only he’d added a comedic gesture—it’d have been fwless.
Maybe the Duke’s got a knack for comedy after all.