Stability Plummets

Of course, in a society built on swords and magic, wealth and risk were like twin brothers, forever tightly intertwined.

Those wealthy merchants renowned across the continent were often powerful professionals themselves.

Only when one possessed enough strength to guard one's vault did wealth truly belong to its owner.

Lance understood this well.

So he would never let go of any opportunity to strengthen himself within controllable limits.

It was another new rest day.

Lance once again stood at the entrance to Copper Creek Forest, fully armed.

This time, he had accepted a commission to gather Silverleaf Vine sap.

It was a basic material used to make "Grayleaf Tincture," one of the most common antidote ingredients on the market.

This plant had extremely strict requirements for humidity and usually grew only on ancient oak trees near Whispering Waterfall.

Because potion shops had an enormous demand for this material, the guild usually sent people every few days to clear the route leading to the gathering area.

In theory, it was an absolutely safe zone, and there was no need to worry about encountering monsters.

But that was only in theory.

Recently, mana had been rioting within Copper Creek Forest, making even the outer region unpredictable.

The once highly sought-after Coppercap Mushroom gathering commissions had long since been snatched up. After weighing his options repeatedly, Lance picked what seemed to be the safest choice from among a pile of commissions.

This was the optimal answer he had calculated after comparing seven or eight gathering commissions.

After all, since he had chosen to become an adventurer, it was impossible to avoid every risk entirely.

As long as the risk remained within controllable limits, it was worth trying.

Besides, he had that system cheat capable of monitoring environmental stability.

However, the moment Lance stepped into Copper Creek Forest, the system prompt that popped up gave him a harsh warning.

[Current Area: Restless (Green) Outer Region of Copper Creek Forest]

[Restless (Green): The fluctuation range of environmental stability in this area is adjusted to 5%. There is a 20% chance of obtaining extra harvests while gathering. Stamina consumption increases by 10%]

[Current Commission: Gather Silverleaf Vine Sap (0/10). Reward: Skill Experience 10, Knowledge Experience 10]

Lance ignored the increased stamina consumption outright.

For someone with [Hvergelmir's Boiling Surge], a stamina bar was practically infinite.

What truly unsettled him was that fluctuation range.

The previously stable 1% variation had now become a major 5% swing.

That meant danger could descend without warning, greatly reducing the time he had to react.

It seemed the reports circulating within the guild had not been exaggerated.

The forest was currently in a period of mana disorder. Although its resources had become more abundant, monster activity had also grown increasingly frenzied.

That also explained the previous horrifying incident in which Jackalmen and Goblins had cooperated in an attack.

At the thought of Goblins, undisguised disgust appeared on Lance's face.

These monsters were practically tumors on the ecosystem.

According to the records in the Copper Creek Forest Monster Manual, the Goblin race relied on an astonishingly terrifying reproductive rate to withstand natural enemies and harsh environments.

Female Goblins had an absurdly short gestation period of just two to three months, and each litter could produce around eight offspring.

Even more terrifyingly, those offspring needed only three years to reach adulthood and become capable of reproducing.

Among all intelligent species, such reproductive efficiency absolutely stood at the top of the pyramid.

Human reproduction looked as slow as a turtle's in comparison.

Adventurers would often wipe out a tribe, only for a new clan to sprout like weeds in another dark corner within less than a year.

And the Goblins' largest settlements were never on the surface.

They lived in the dark underground world, tangled and labyrinthine like a maze.

All humans could do was regularly clear out the wandering surface Goblins and prevent them from multiplying beyond control.

"What a disgusting and troublesome race."

Lance cursed inwardly.

Not only that, Goblin genes were extremely unstable, and terrifying subspecies often emerged through mutation.

For example, the immensely powerful Big Goblins, the thick-skinned Bear Goblins, and even Goblin Spellcasters capable of casting magic.

For ordinary adventurers, these mutants were unquestionably lethal threats.

As Lance reviewed the knowledge he had crammed into his head over the past few days, he vigilantly watched his surroundings.

He casually gathered some low-value herbs along the way while keeping a close eye on the fluctuating number on his retina.

Fortunately, the journey was uneventful.

By the time he reached the vicinity of the gathering site, the surroundings were silent.

Not many adventurers dared venture this deep during such a period. Especially today, he had not seen a single soul along the way.

Any somewhat capable party had taken the more highly paid extermination commissions to hunt down those rampaging monsters.

Lance stopped before an ancient oak that required three people to wrap their arms around it.

Several thick, dark-green vines coiled tightly around the trunk like snakes. Under the sunlight filtering through the canopy, silver glimmers flickered along the veins of their distinctive heart-shaped leaves.

That was the origin of the Silverleaf Vine's name.

Lance drew his shortsword and gently sliced open the vine's outer skin.

A slightly viscous transparent sap slowly flowed out, and a faint sour stench immediately filled the air.

He promptly took out a prepared glass bottle to catch it.

While waiting for the bottle to fill, his eyes flicked toward the environmental stability reading every few seconds.

His luck was good.

Until all ten small bottles had been filled, nothing unusual happened nearby.

[Commission Completed: Gather Vine Sap (30/30)]

[Reward Obtained: Skill Experience 10, Knowledge Experience 10]

Lance carefully wrapped each glass bottle in cotton cloth to prevent them from colliding and shattering during vigorous movement.

After stuffing the loot into the storage pouch at his waist, he did not leave immediately.

Since he was already here, he might as well take a look at the nearby waterfall.

First, gathering the sap had left his hands sticky, and he needed to wash them.

Second, he remembered that a plant called Blood-Clotting Moss loved to grow on rotten logs around waterfalls.

He glanced at the number.

72%.

It was not especially high, but it still counted as a safe threshold in a restless area.

Lance quickly made his way to Whispering Waterfall.

The place was filled with mist, and numerous moss-covered dead trunks lay scattered across the shore.

Using his newly learned botanical knowledge, he carefully distinguished the various kinds of moss.

Very soon.

On the shaded side of a massive rotten log, he found a patch of plant growth resembling red fuzz.

It felt sticky when scraped off, with a dense web of white mycelium connected beneath it. When brought close, it even carried a faint scent of rust.

It was precisely the core ingredient used to make hemostatic ointment.

[Knowledge: Botany +1]

An unexpected gain.

As expected, practice was the best teacher.

Lance was delighted and was just about to gather as much as he could.

However, at that moment, he subconsciously glanced toward the corner of his retina.

The number, which had still been in the green range, had jumped to 67% without warning.

Lance's expression changed instantly.

He did not bother gathering any more. He grabbed the moss he had just scraped off, stuffed it into his pouch, and turned to leave.

Greed was an adventurer's greatest original sin.

The moment that number began to fluctuate, leaving was the only way to survive.

But he had only run a dozen or so meters in the direction he had come from.

Not only did the number fail to rise again, it instead plunged wildly like an out-of-control elevator.

62%.

57%.

52%.

Lance abruptly stopped, and a layer of cold sweat instantly seeped across his back.

If he had entered a dangerous area, the number should have risen again as long as he retreated.

But now, no matter which direction he moved, the number continued to fall.

That could mean only one thing.

It was not that he had run into danger.

The danger was closing in on him.

He was surrounded.