I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse

Chapter 1851: The Deal of a Lifetime!

”That is perfectly acceptable,” Moth said, his surprise growing. He had expected the ”scary” price to finally force a retreat. Instead, Hye had simply adjusted his financial strategy.

Moth was secretly convinced that Hye didnʼt grasp the physical reality of what he was doing. He believed that once the actual transfer began—once Hye saw the literal billions of bones vanishing from his inventory—the psychological pain of the loss would set in.

He expected the human to flinch, to hesitate, or to call off the deal halfway through as his ”precious” reserves dwindled.

He couldnʼt have been more wrong.

For twenty hours straight, the two remained locked in a feverish cycle of exchange. It was a marathon of commerce that would have broken a lesser mind. Hye didnʼt show a single sign of distress; if anything, his focus sharpened with every passing hour.

He began by offloading his Dark Realm bones to secure the high-priority technical secrets, but as the Hescos started dumping their low-tier surplus, Hye shifted his payment to the highest grades of normal bones.

He had billions of them—reserves so vast they were becoming a logistical burden in their own right. To Hye, these normal bones were nearly useless compared to the reality-warping potential of the Dark Realm variants.

He sensed exactly what the Hescos were doing: they were trying to bury him under a mountain of ”useless” goods in a desperate grab for his currency.

He decided to play along, responding with a mirror strategy. If they wanted to clear their warehouses of obsolete inventory, he would clear his vault of obsolete bones. Even as the figure climbed into the billions, he felt no sting. Within his heart, a different fire was burning.

The goods the Hescos viewed as junk were, to Hye, the very seeds of a god-tier civilisation. The technological blueprints for basic infrastructure—both civilian and military—were priceless to a world trying to rebuild from the ashes.

The ”useless” races the Hescos considered a burden were, to Hye, a diverse pool of labor and specialised talent.

The artificial planets, the floating metropolis blueprints, and the atmospheric stabilisers were the blueprints for a kingdom that wouldnʼt just survive the apocalypse, but dominate it.

Hye watched as his inventory filled with warrior tokens, diverse racial contracts, U-stat crystals, and mountains of gold coins.

He was absorbing the discarded history of a hundred-thousand-year-old empire and using it to forge a spearhead.

He didnʼt think twice about the cost; he was too busy imagining the look on the faces of his enemies when they realised he was no longer fighting with scraps, but with the industrial might of a sovereign race.

”Can you… Can you even trade more?” Moth asked at the twenty-hour mark. He sounded exhausted, his voice thin and ragged. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss of wealth.

He had spent nearly a day funnelling the resources of an entire empire toward this one human, and Hye still looked ready for more.

”Iʼm ready whenever you are,” Hye said, his eyes bright.

”No… thatʼs all,” Moth said, his tone turning bitter. It was a hard truth for a representative of a sovereign race to admit, but they had reached the end of their immediate supply.

”We have traded almost everything of that tier within our empireʼs reachable distance. Youʼve effectively bought out our surplus across several sectors.”

Hyeʼs face broke into a wide, genuine smile—the first one Moth had seen all day. ”Thank you, Moth. Truly. I think I can finally call for that celebration now.”

”I… I have to go home,” Moth stammered. The weight of the deal was finally hitting him. He needed to be present for the grand emergency meeting of the high council that was surely being convened to discuss the ”Human Bone-Lapse.”

”Letʼs postpone the celebration. Weʼll feast when you return from the outer battlefield with your victory.”

Hye watched him go, knowing that while Moth thought he had won a fortune in bones, Hye had just purchased the future of the human race.

Mothʼs thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind as he prepared for his departure. He could only imagine the sheer pandemonium erupting among his peers back home.

Everything they had assumed about Hye—every cynical projection and cautious estimation—hadnʼt just been proven wrong; they realised they hadnʼt even scratched the surface of this manʼs mystery.

In the span of a single twenty-hour marathon session, they had traded away roughly 70% of the non-essential surplus the Hescos Empire had accumulated over its aeons of existence.

Had it not been for a few conservative voices on the council arguing for a 30% emergency reserve, the Hescos might have emptied their coffers entirely. What remained etched in Mothʼs mind was the terrifying ease with which Hye operated.

The human hadnʼt hesitated, hadnʼt deliberated over the utility of the goods, and hadnʼt shown a single tremor of financial fatigue.

Back at the Hescos high command, the analysts were losing their minds. Based on their most hopeful and frankly unrealistic models, they had estimated Hye to control perhaps a few star systems—a respectable territory for a rising warlord, but a drop in the bucket compared to the sovereign races. Yet, the sheer volume of his requisition defied that logic.

Just look at the concrete figures: Hye had purchased tens of thousands of artificial planets.

He had acquired the contracts for over five thousand distinct races, ranging from specialised labour castes to exotic scholars. Most staggering of all was the military transfer; he had amassed hundreds of billions of warrior tokens.

The Hescos were forced to confront a reality that made them question their own intelligence networks. A territory capable of absorbing ten thousand artificial planets wouldnʼt just be a ”base”; it would be a sector-spanning empire.

Such a vast expanse of controlled space should have been visible on every long-range sensor in the galaxy. It should have been a gravitational constant in the cosmic political landscape. Yet, there was nothing.