Had the tiline been different—had he been forced to wait years to reach that theatre of war—he might have hesitated. He might have weighed the stagnation of his wealth against the imdiate need for growth.
But the clock was ticking. He was leaving in a single month. In the face of such a tight window, the concept of "cost" beca irrelevant. Efficiency was the only currency that mattered now.
"I'll… I'll see what kind of discount our council can authorise for a transaction of this magnitude," Moth managed to say, sucking in a sharp, cold breath of air as if he were trying to stabilise his very soul.
"Since we're already on the subject," Hye interrupted, holding up a hand. For a fleeting, hopeful second, Moth thought the human was finally backing off—that the sheer weight of the millions of bones had finally triggered a sense of self-preservation.
Instead, Hye leaned forward, his gaze intensifying. "Check with your colleagues. If they can reroute more shipnts, or if there are additional stockpiles of any item on this list sitting in nearby sectors, I'm willing to buy them all out right now. Don't leave a single crate behind."
Moth stared at him, rendered completely speechless. Hye wasn't just satisfied with the current deal; he was hungry. He was looking at the vast inventory of the Hescos Empire and asking for seconds.
"You do realise," Moth said, finally regaining his voice and deciding to push back to see just how deep Hye's pockets truly were.
"That I could likely source ten tis the amount currently on this list within the week? If I call in favours and reroute rchant fleets, the volu would be staggering. Can you actually et a price like that?"
"Sure," Hye replied. The answer ca instantly, without a flicker of doubt or a mont of calculation.
"Do whatever you need to do. Sum everything up, find the maximum ceiling of your supply, and let know the final figure. And if your people prefer a variety of bone types for their different research sectors—Silver, Dark, or Gold—just let know. Since we're dealing with such a massive volu, I'm happy to provide a diversified paynt."
He is terrifying, Moth thought, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. He looks like he has an endless, bottomless supply of these things. How is that possible?
Moth tried to do the math in his head. Even if Hye had spent every waking second since the start of the apocalypse amassing bones, he shouldn't have been able to reach these numbers.
It defied every law of probability and progression that the sovereign races understood.
Moth couldn't have known that Hye didn't just "gather" bones; he had lived through a at-grinder of constant warfare, harvesting the essence of entire armies. Nor could he have guessed that the very deal he was facilitating would provide the exact foundation Hye needed to jump even further ahead of the galactic curve.
"As you wish," Moth said, his voice trembling slightly. He was determined to see if Hye was truly as filthy rich as he claid or if this was the most elaborate bluff in the history of the universe.
He imdiately opened a high-priority channel to his peers and superiors. He laid out the situation with a mix of professional urgency and personal disbelief, asking them to scavenge every warehouse for the items on Hye's list.
What was truly peculiar about the transaction was the nature of the goods. Hye wasn't asking for top-secret prototypes or experintal super-weapons that would threaten the Hescos' hegemony.
The list was composed of "common" goods—foundational technology, raw materials, and industrial equipnt. To the Hescos, these were nearly obsolete; to a rising power like Hye's kingdom, they were the literal bricks and mortar of an empire.
"He is building a grand foundation," Moth explained to his fellow officers, hitting the nail squarely on the head.
"These items are worth nothing to us—they've been gathering dust in our holds for centuries because there's no market for them. But to a growing power, they are the essential building blocks. He won't ask for these things again because once he has them, he'll be self-sufficient. This is our one and only chance to offload our useless surplus and exchange it for sothing as universally valuable as his Dark Realm bones!"
Moth's logic was flawless. He saw the deal as a massive win for the Hescos—a way to "scam" a primitive race into taking their trash in exchange for treasure.
He didn't realise that Hye had already consulted with Karoline, Lily, and Old Gan. They were getting exactly what they needed to ensure that by the ti Hye returned from the outer battlefield, his kingdom would no longer need to buy anything from anyone.
The deal was struck: the old world was selling its past to fund the new world's future.
The shift in the Hescos' high command was palpable even through the digital static of the communication channels. Questions about Hye's legitimacy, his origins, or the impossible source of his wealth evaporated, replaced by a cold, industrial hunger.
To the Hescos elders, the "how" no longer mattered. The only reality that remained was the "now"—the fact that a single human was offering to drain his species' treasury in exchange for what they considered to be planetary-scale clutter.
"I have news," Moth announced after several more hours of frantic back-and-forth with his superiors. His voice held a new edge, a mixture of professional awe and predatory opportunism.
"I've been authorised to expand the scope. For certain categories on your list, I can provide a hundred tis the initial volu. We're talking about emptying entire sector depots. Can you truly et a price that has just beco… well, terrifying?"
"I can," Hye replied. He paused for the first ti, his mind calculating the shift in currency. "But for a volu of this magnitude, I will be diversifying the paynt. I'll be utilizing different tiers of bones to settle the balance."
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