Thomas sat at the workbench on the first basement level, meticulously planning his next move. The workbench's +20 focus bonus made his planning remarkably efficient.
Unbeknownst to him, in the shooting range, Eight Lop would occasionally steal a glance at Thomas before quickly returning to his work, a faint blush dusting his ears.
"Brother, I told you, Mr. Smyth is a good person. Why don't you believe me?" Eight muttered.
“I know my own nature. I'm not cut out for fighting. If it weren't for you taking over during the first Calamity, I would be dead!” a voice echoed in Eight's mind, the voice of his other self, Seven.
"But because of that, the time you can be present is severely limited!"
"Don't worry! I like it here. Organizing all these supplies makes me so happy!" Eight hummed a Bloomhaven folk tune as he diligently sorted items. Seven had fallen silent, retreating into their shared consciousness.
Thomas, having entered the shooting range unnoticed, watched Eight's cheerful diligence with a slight smile. "Alright, it's noon. Let's eat first, then get back to work," he announced, interrupting Eight's humming.
He led Eight to the kitchen on the second basement level. "Help yourself to anything you like. Don't be shy. Try the Nourishing Mutton Stew; it's quite good."
Leaving Eight to choose his meal, Thomas went to the warehouse, which had upgraded to level three during his planning session. As expected, his private message inbox was overflowing with trade offers. He routinely blacklisted the time-wasters and grabbed a juice box before heading down to the living area.
He placed the dog tag looted from the Blood Bat survivor in the display case, gaining a +0.2% bonus to combat skill proficiency. Back in the living room, he reviewed the remaining trade offers. A few established survivors, likely aware of his abundant resources, made outrageous demands, asking for graphics cards and rare items. He promptly blacklisted them.
By the time he had gathered the materials to build the Small Elevator and Automated Sorting Warehouse, over an hour had passed. A message from Howie Wang arrived.
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Howie Wang: Legend Smyth, my friend found info on those three. Sandy is in the Crimson Cloud Grasslands, specifically the Wind-Thunder Plateau.
Howie Wang: Dash Strong and Liam Brightman are in the same zone, Sparrow City, at a place called the Depot.
Thomas choked on his juice. "Cough... cough..." He reread the message in disbelief. Sparrow City - The Depot?
"Holy crap... Those unlucky bastards... What a coincidence!" He realized they must have seen his buy requests in the regional chat and were probably just as surprised.
A smirk played on his lips. I look forward to meeting you.
After thanking Howie and sending him a few bowls of mutton stew, Thomas turned his attention to the basement. Eight was gone, apparently back at work upstairs.
Ignoring this, Thomas stood before the level 3 warehouse and initiated the upgrade to the Automated Sorting Warehouse. A 2x3 meter square of light appeared on the wall. Upgrade time: four hours.
He then went to the staircase connecting the three levels and used the Small Elevator blueprint. Construction time: three hours. It was now almost 2 PM; both upgrades would be finished around 6 PM.
Thomas spent the next hour in the gym, testing the physiological skill training. The results were impressive, with each skill gaining around 3 points. The activated skills fell into three categories, all common skills:
Physiological: Endurance, Health, Immunity, Metabolism, Strength, Vitality, Stress Resistance
Mental: Focus, Charm, Intelligence, Memory, Perception
Combat: Due to only participating in one fight that day, he activated Precise Marksman Rifle Mastery and Throwing Weapon Mastery, both gaining over 8 proficiency points.
"Looks like killing is the fastest way to level up skills," he mused.
Time flew by. By 6 PM, both the Automated Sorting Warehouse and Small Elevator were complete. After showing Eight the new features and setting the Toll Collection I and Forced Requisition I drop-off points to the warehouse, Thomas chuckled as Eight rubbed his head, having been bonked by incoming supplies.
"I've set the drop-off to the warehouse, so you won't get hit anymore!" he reassured Eight.
After a simple dinner, Thomas rested in the living area. At 9:30 PM, his alarm jolted him awake. He took the new elevator to the second floor, where Eight waited, eyes filled with worry.
"Mr. Smyth... be... be careful! I'll wait for you to come back!"
Thomas smiled, ruffling Eight's ears. "Don't worry, I'm going to bring you back a sister!"
Down on the first floor, Thomas donned his gear: the Cloak of Night, the Black Mask, and the rare title, Nightwalker – his "Triple Black" set. His backpack held only essential supplies, including two crates of grenades – over 120 in total – and Remote Emulsion Explosives, anticipating heavy use.
With his gear checked, his eyes turned cold. Activating Nightwalker, his form shimmered and vanished, leaving Eight whispering, "Mr. Smyth... please come back safely!"