Atlas surveyed his team after their run through the Ghoul Dungeon. Despite their success, he couldn’t ignore the state of their gear. Their armor had taken a beating, and though the plate armor was holding up reasonably well, the leather armor was practically shredded. He himself preferred the lamellar leather; plate armor was just too heavy. While tanks like Hank ran through mobs, they were slow lumbering mountains of steel in their heavy plate armor. The thought of his team in their busted-up armor made Atlas wince—they were all still wearing standard issue, level 1 gear, purchased earlier from the vending machines.
The Forge-O-Matic machine offered a range of items for armor, and the Swords by Shannara machine was their choice for weapons.
The Forge-O-Matic was an impressive piece of tech, scanning each buyer to tailor-fit their gear on the spot. The level 1 armor had been adequate when they first started out, when the enemies were weaker and the challenges simpler. But now, with the increasingly dangerous foes they faced, it was clear that their current gear wasn’t going to cut it for much longer.
Atlas knew that while every Portal Crusher could technically purchase their own upgrades, it was his responsibility as the leader to ensure that his main team—the core group of Fort Bone—was equipped with the best of the best. They couldn’t afford to be outclassed in this harsh world where survival meant staying ahead of the game.
And armor was only part of the equation. Better armor required better weapons to match. Without a doubt, their current weapons, also level 1, were becoming obsolete against the tougher enemies they were encountering. A decision formed in Atlas's mind. He would secure both level 2 armor and weapons for his main team.
However, there was a catch. Atlas hadn’t yet upgraded to level 2 himself. In his previous life—no one had ever reached level 3. The new level 2 armor and weapons were a significant investment, costing 100 coins each. The bonus, though, was undeniable: higher-quality materials that promised increased durability and better overall performance.
“I hope this is enough for now,” Atlas muttered, a mixture of determination and anxiety in his chest. He knew they were pushing the limits, but there was no other choice.
He called the main Portal Crushers team together, distributing the tokens for the level 2 armor and weapons that they could use. As soon as he handed over the tokens, the team’s excitement was palpable. The cost had drained the coffers of Fort Bone.
‘No steak dinner for me tonight,‘ thought Atlas.
“This is going to be awesome!” Isabella grinned, turning her tokens over in her hand as if she couldn’t believe it was real.
“Finally, something that won’t fucking fall apart after one battle!” Stu added, his usual gruff tone softened by his clear excitement.
“I’ve been dreaming about this since we got to this hellhole,” said Wang Bo, shaking his head with a grin. “Level 2, baby!”
“I can’t wait to test this out on the next ghoul that crosses my path,” said Alexander, his eyes practically gleaming at the thought of bisecting some undead.
“Let’s show those monsters what real warriors look like,” Isabella said, raising her tokens high. The others followed suit, their collective energy almost tangible as they cheered together.
Atlas watched them, pleased to see the morale boost. This gear upgrade was more than just a practical necessity—it was a way to keep his team’s spirits high and remind them that they were a force to be reckoned with in this brutal world.
Wilfredo, one of the older members of the team, examined his tokens before asking, “What do we do with the old gear?”
Atlas thought for a moment before replying, “Just pass it to the crafters. Let them patch it up and resell it in town. Or if you like a newbie's chances of becoming a warrior, give it to them. Someone will find a use for it.”
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Wilfredo nodded, satisfied with the plan. The old gear might not be good enough for the main team anymore, but for the newer or less experienced members of the settlement, it could still offer decent protection.
As the team dispersed to claim their new gear, Atlas caught up with John. “When’s the auction for the houses?” he asked.
“Starting in about an hour,” John replied. “It’s all automated, so there’s nothing we need to do.”
“Perfect,” Atlas said, already thinking ahead to the next event.
An hour later, the auction began. It was an intense and competitive bidding war for the three available houses in Fort Bone. The main draw was clear: a house provided not just a base of operations for hunting and exploring the surrounding area, but also a safe haven in a world where safety was increasingly hard to come by. Fort Bone, with its mini fairies patrolling and the looming presence of the castle, was seen as one of the most secure settlements around.
Each house also came with the added benefit of citizenship for up to five people per house, at a price of 100 coins each. This citizenship wasn’t just a status symbol; it allowed the owners and their chosen few to live within the fortified walls of Fort Bone, under the protection of its defenses, and to enjoy the benefits of the community—including access to the upgraded vending machines, the tavern, and more at a discounted non-tourist price.
The bidders were a mix of adventurers looking for a reliable base, rich merchants seeking a safe place to store and sell their wares, and crafters who wanted both security and a stable place to operate their businesses.
The auction machine, known as ‘‘The Wasteland Gavel‘‘, stood ready outside the Wasted Tavern. Bidders had already grabbed their magic tablets for a 10-coin deposit, and the scene inside the tavern was one of rising tension. Most of the crowd sat with beers in hand, their eyes locked on their screens as the auction began.
The first house was up for bidding.
"Lot number one, a cozy two-room house just outside the inner walls!" the automated voice of ‘‘The Wasteland Gavel‘‘ boomed from each tablet. "Starting bid: 100 coins."
Without hesitation, the first bid appeared on everyone’s screens.
"100 coins!" called out a burly adventurer, already well into his second beer.
"120!" came the next bid from a crafter, wiping oil from his hands while still clutching his tablet.
"150," a soft voice cut through the noise—a rich crafter bid
The crowd murmured, eyes scanning their screens as the numbers rapidly climbed.
"180!" shouted a slender woman in the corner, clearly new to the settlement.
"200!" came the quick response from a team of merchants, sitting around a table, their laughter mingling with the auction fever.
Shi Shu, a muscular adventurer, tapped his screen and waited for his bid to flash on the monitors. "210 coins!" he announced, standing tall. "I hope you all can give me face and let this one go."
The tavern quieted for a moment. The respect for Shi Shu was tangible—but not enough.
“Fuck that!” a tall redneck hollered from the bar, slamming down his beer as he punched in a bid. "220!"
Laughter erupted as Shi Shu clenched his jaw, tapping in again. "230!"
"250!" the redneck shot back, his grin widening.
The room buzzed with excitement. The Wasteland Gavel’s automated voice cut through the noise. "Current bid: 250 coins. Going once… going twice…"
But before the final call could be made, another tablet flashed.
"300!" shouted Amilii, she needed this house as a base for their settlement. The crowd murmured in approval as the number flashed on everyone's screen.
Shi Shu looked desperate but tapped in again. "310!"
But the redneck wasn’t giving up. "320!"
The back-and-forth continued, with bids shooting up from various corners of the tavern, each one higher than the last.
Finally, after a heated round of furious bidding, the final number appeared on the tablets: "347 coins."
The redneck raised his beer in victory as the automated voice echoed, "Sold! Lot number one goes to bidder 8475 for 347 coins!"
Shi Shu slumped back in his chair, shaking his head. "Next time…"
The second house came up, and the tension in the room doubled. The starting bid was set at 100 coins once again, and the battle began anew.
But this time, the stakes were even higher. ‘‘The Wasteland Gavel‘‘ boomed over the buzz of the tavern, and the crowd leaned in, waiting for the next chance to strike.
The auction was fierce, with bids quickly escalating. The first house sold for 347 coins, the second for 438, and the third for a staggering 446 coins. In addition to the houses, the citizenship slots were snapped up by the new house owners quickly, bringing in another 1,500 coins in total.
Atlas couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction as he watched the coins flood into the government kiosk. His inner eager beaver rubbed its paws together in glee, nibbling at imaginary wood.
‘Definitely going to do more auctions, I can afford that steak tonight! Even though that gear for the team wasn’t cheap,‘ he thought, already planning the next one in his mind. The success of this auction not only boosted Fort Bone’s treasury but also strengthened the community. Each new citizen and homeowner meant a more secure and prosperous settlement—a place where the Portal Crushers could continue to thrive.