In addition to equipment, several stalls displayed raw ores and herbs, materials used for various crafting professions. Kaito didn't bother overthinking their current market value—whether they would appreciate in price later or not, he bought every single piece he came across. His second uncle's chat rang clearly in his mind: Secondary professions consume a massive amount of materials during training. If he wanted Genesis to grow, the stockpiling needed to continue.
He continued strolling between the stalls, sweeping up any medicinal herbs and ores that crossed his path. Thanks to the recent upgrade to his bank vault, he no longer had to worry about storage limitations until he could set up an official guild warehouse in Astralis City.
Even with his extensive knowledge from his previous life, Kaito still encountered materials he couldn't immediately identify. This made the trip more than just a shopping spree—it was also a valuable learning experience.
He also spotted several stalls selling quest items—things like White Fog Grass two gold coins per plant, Poisonous Glands from the Blue-Armored Scorpion, Black-Eyed Stone Bull Eyes, and Nether Leopard Claws. The prices were modest, and wealthy players in the area were eagerly buying them up to complete quests on the spot without the hassle of hunting.
Kaito couldn't help but think, If I didn't have my previous life's memories, I'd probably be doing the same thing. In his past life, he had indeed been one of these hawkers. With no backing from his family at the time, he had scraped together the funds to form his guild entirely on his own, relying on quest item sales and small trades until he finally secured a sponsor.
Looking around now, he felt a quiet sense of gratitude for the advantage his rebirth had given him. Many of the players selling quest items were those in tight real-world circumstances—people for whom earning money took priority over leveling or acquiring high-grade gear. For them, equipment and levels were secondary luxuries; survival came first.
In the modern Federation, poverty still existed despite the technological advances of the era. A significant portion of the population—at least 60%—never reached any martial rank even after turning sixteen. Those who did were often stuck at Rank 1, using martial arts training more as a means of basic fitness than a path to power. For such people, the world of Glory wasn't about glory at all—it was simply another way to make ends meet.
And most of the people struggling with hunger had little choice but to become tenants under powerful, ranked martial arts families. By farming the lands of these influential houses, they could at least secure a portion of the harvest—enough to keep themselves and their families from starving. However, even becoming a tenant required meeting strict conditions set by those families.
In truth, this was tied to the very structure of land ownership on the planet. Almost all of the fertile land was controlled by martial arts families, passed down and protected through generations. Even the vast stretches of wasteland could not be freely reclaimed—doing so required official approval from the Federation, as well as the martial strength to defend it from covetous eyes. The Federation's rules were clear: only individuals or groups meeting a certain martial arts rank could purchase or reclaim land. In practice, this meant that only the major martial families possessed both the permission and the power to expand their holdings.
This policy had been a helpless but necessary move by the Federation. In the past, land disputes often led to bloodshed, with innocent civilians caught in the crossfire—or outright murdered—simply because they occupied territory desired by stronger forces. Even though civilians knew exactly which families were behind such killings, they had no power to retaliate. All they could do was swallow their resentment and survive as best they could. By restricting land ownership to those strong enough to protect it, the Federation hoped to reduce such tragedies.
The Ren family, though unranked, had a small share of land and a few loyal tenants. Unlike most ranked powers, their rules were far more lenient, and their generosity was well known. While most families gave their tenants only 20% of the harvest, the Ren family offered 50%—over 30% more than the norm. This generosity had once drawn open scorn from the Velthorn family, who predicted such practices would one day lead to the Ren family's ruin. In the rigid hierarchy of ranked families, showing compassion at the expense of profit was often seen as a weakness.
If the Ren family had not been an unranked, such leniency would have inevitably drawn suppression from the more powerful ranked families, who would pressure them to reduce the tenants' share under the pretense of "maintaining fairness." However, as an unranked power with limited land, the Ren family was largely ignored—neither their wealth nor their influence was enough to threaten the established order.
For Kaito, this reality underscored a simple truth: being low-key had its advantages. Their position outside the ranked hierarchy spared them from the political games and suppression tactics that plagued higher-tier families. At the same time, it allowed them to operate according to their own values, without bending to the greed and pride of those above.
Kaito could understand the harsh realities he had just been thinking about. After all, not everyone could be as lucky as him—armed with knowledge from a previous life, with the ability to sidestep countless pitfalls that trapped ordinary players. Shaking off his thoughts, he continued to wander between the rows of stalls, scanning each display with a practiced eye.
As he moved past one particularly cluttered table, a flash of green caught his attention. Hemostatic Grass. There was quite a bit of it too—bundles of fresh stalks stacked neatly together. This herb was a staple ingredient for low-level healing potions and emergency bandages, always in demand by players grinding in dangerous areas.
"How much for the Hemostatic Grass? Per plant," Kaito asked casually.
Before the seller could respond, his gaze drifted across the stall and stopped cold. Sitting to one side, almost as if it were an afterthought, was a mask. Not just any mask—this was rare equipment, the sort of drop that could elude players for months.
Kaito's pulse quickened slightly. Mask-type equipment was notoriously difficult to obtain. In all his time in Glory—both in this life and the last—he had only ever handled one: the Black Market Mask, issued temporarily to those allowed entry into the underground auction houses. It paired with the Black Market Cloak, of which he still had a copy, but the mask had to be returned upon leaving the black market. Even then, it was considered valuable because it concealed the wearer's face and sometimes their identity entirely.
He stepped closer, studying the item. This mask, while only of Mysterious Iron rank, carried all the usual properties of its category—face coverage, identity masking, and in some cases, the ability to hide the player's name from appearing above their head. It wasn't perfect invisibility, but it was a level of anonymity that could save a player's life.
Kaito imagined the scenarios: if, in the future, a powerful guild decided to hunt him, they would first have to identify him in the field. With a mask like this, even those with sharp eyes and grudges would have to think twice before launching an ambush. The practical uses alone made it worth considering.
The thought of acquiring it instantly lodged itself in his mind. "This could be useful," he murmured under his breath. He was already calculating how many ways such a tool could tilt the odds in his favor during raids or when dealing with enemy spies.
But then he looked at the price tag.
5000 gold coins.
His expression froze.
At this stage of the game, such a sum was absurd. Even top-grade Gold equipment with exceptional special effects rarely commanded a price that high. Dark Gold equipment—far rarer and more powerful—might fetch such a figure under the right conditions, but a Mysterious Iron mask? The seller might as well have been asking for the moon.