Selling (Somewhat) Magic Goods in Arknights

[DuckaBoo385]

P.S.: If you guys wanna write like some extra chapters or non-canon omakes for this story, you can go ahead. I don't know how to let others write on the Extra Tab like how Aeon_Rex does it though. Just keep it SFW.

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Question, out of curiosity, is there a reason this is on the NSFW section? Is it under this section due to potential Gore or the like down the line?
(Presuming this won't really go down to lewds, tone-wise.)

Really like the story so far, and this is in no way me attempting to pressure you to write something out of your comfort zone.

 

[Paracsus]

Question, out of curiosity, is there a reason this is on the NSFW section? Is it under this section due to potential Gore or the like down the line?
(Presuming this won't really go down to lewds, tone-wise.)

Really like the story so far, and this is in no way me attempting to pressure you to write something out of your comfort zone.

Click to shrink...

That was a mistake on my part. I initially thought that I posted this on the SFW part of the site. But since this is where I most frequently read stuff, I posted it here by mistake. I thought about moving it, but it already has all these likes and comments that it would be a shame to move it and lose all that progress.

 

[DuckaBoo385]

That was a mistake on my part. I initially thought I posted this on the SFW part of the site, but this is where I most frequently read stuff. I thought about moving it, but it already has all these likes and comments that it would be a shame to move it and lose all that progress.

Click to shrink...

Fair enough. Thanks for replying.

 

[ThePoroKing]

The cart will mail a pipebomb to the mean ones, trust.

 

[Paracsus]

New Agreements, Old Problems

By the end of the week, Arno had three standing agreements in the drawer beneath the counter.

Rhodes Island's Lungmen branch remained unchanged. One daily pickup. Fixed quantities. Bentos, bread, drinks, with a small allotment of sugarettes and butter candies included in each crate. One courier, one vehicle, no substitutions.

LGD's request followed the same structure.

They asked for fewer loaves than Rhodes, citing patrol logistics and storage limits. In exchange, they requested a larger share of sugarettes and butter candies, distributed in sealed packets alongside the meals. Long shifts, extended watches, and overnight duty made compact items easier to manage.

Arno agreed after adjusting the counts. The limits stayed in place. The timing stayed the same. Their pickup window was set earlier in the morning to avoid overlap.

The Lungmen Young Entrepreneur's Association came last.

Their agreement matched the others in form, but not in content. No sugarettes since their building enforced a strict no-smoking policy, and the site manager had made it clear that anything resembling tobacco—even inert—was not allowed on the premises, much to the chagrin of some people working there. They requested additional bottles of juice to compensate for this. They would pick up their package between 11:00 am and 12:00 nn.

Arno accepted those terms without issue.

(Meanwhile, Lin Yuhsia's approval rating actually shot up by a whopping 40% after making the decision to seek out a contract with Arno. Not that he knows about anything like that. If it is perceived that she is looking out for the cart more proactively, then that is merely a coincidence.)

Each group received sealed goods only. No custom mixing at pickup. No changes without prior discussion. No visibility at the cart beyond what any other customer could see.

Three buyers. Three time slots. Three crates per day.

People noticed.

Questions started circulating. Who was buying in bulk. Why those groups. Whether the cart was still "open" in the usual sense. Arno did not address any of it. Sales at the counter continued as normal, and no items were withheld from walk-in customers.

That night, after the last customer had left and the cart exterior was packed away, Arno and Niko went inside. Aware, but not particularly caring of the whispers that revolved around them concerning the new bulk orders.

That would come back later to bite them.

---

The first problem surfaced a day after Arno accepted Lin's contract.

It happened late in the morning, right at the edge of the agreed pickup window. The lunch crowd had not yet arrived, leaving the street in an awkward lull where people passed by without stopping. Arno had already set the sealed crates aside beneath the counter—clearly labeled, counted twice, and placed where they could not be reached from the street. Niko was wiping down the counter when a delivery van rolled up and parked just far enough to be legal.

The man was different from the usual.

He approached alone, clipboard tucked under his arm, posture relaxed in a way that suggested familiarity rather than urgency. His jacket was plain, neither branded nor worn, and he stopped at a respectful distance from the counter instead of leaning in.

"Pickup for LGD," he said, voice even. "Morning allocation."

Arno did not reach for the crates.

He studied the man instead,taking in the details: no visible badge, no radio, no identifying patch. Not unusual on its own. Enough to warrant care.

"Name?" Arno asked.

The man hesitated, just briefly, then answered. "Rui. I'm covering today."

"Covering for who?" Arno asked.

"Regular courier couldn't make it. Vehicle issue."

That explanation came quickly, like it was practiced numerous times.

Arno reached under the counter and took out the notebook where he kept the contract details. He flipped to the LGD page, running a finger down the lines as though double-checking quantities, even though he already knew them by memory.

"There's no substitute listed," Arno said. "Who approved the change?"

The man smiled, mild and practiced. "The sarge did. He sent me in since the regular guy wouldn't be able to come in today."

Arno looked up. "Which precinct authorized it?"

"...East District?." The man said after a minute.

The answer raised an eyebrow. East District would approve a change from all the way here?

Arno closed the notebook and set it aside. Then he motioned for Niko to pass him his phone.

"Stand here. I need to make a call." he said.

The man's smile thinned. "There's really no need to bother them. I can wait, but—"

Arno was already dialing.

He did not use a public contact number. He used the one written into the agreement, the one that had been tested twice already.

When the line connected, Arno spoke calmly. "This is Arno. I have someone claiming to be your courier. Name Rui. Plain jacket. Gray van. Is that correct?"

There was a pause, then a sharp exhale on the other end.

"No," the voice said. "Our courier hasn't arrived yet. He's delayed. Why?"

Arno looked back at the man.

He was already running away.

By the time Arno ended the call and looked up again, the man was moving down the street, pace quick but controlled, not drawing attention. He did not look back.

Nothing had been touched. Nothing had been taken.

The second attempt came the following day.

This one was more careful.

The woman arrived precisely at the agreed time, carrying a laminated ID that looked convincing at a glance. She named Rhodes Island as her place of work, came at the correct pickup window, and recited the quantities without hesitation. She even apologized for the established courier who should have been there before Arno brought it up, as though trying to establish continuity.

Arno listened without interrupting.

"Who authorized the substitution?" he asked when she finished.

She gave a name immediately. It was a real one.

Niko, who was looking at the "courier" suspiciously, handed Arno his phone without any prompting.

"That won't be necessary," she said quickly. "They're in a meeting."

"Don't worry, they'll make time for this," Arno replied, already dialing.

This time, the response was immediate and sharp.

"No," the voice said. "Absolutely not. Keep her there."

Arno looked up from the phone.

The woman had already left.

She didn't run. She didn't argue. She simply merged into the crowd with the efficiency of someone who had practiced leaving without causing a scene. The clipboard she'd been holding slipped from her hand and clattered onto the pavement.

It held a script, complete with "what-if" questions in case the target asked.

After that, Arno changed the procedure.

He called each contracting party in turn and stated the rule without decoration.

"If the courier is not the one listed," he said, "you call me first. Name, description, vehicle. I will not release anything without verbal confirmation. These people are getting crafty."

There were no objections.

LGD adjusted immediately. Their couriers began arriving in uniform, vehicle numbers clearly marked, calling five minutes before arrival as instructed.

Rhodes Island followed, issuing sealed pickup cards that matched the crate labels exactly and adding a secondary confirmation number.

The Lungmen Young Entrepreneurs Association took longer. Their first call involved three voices talking over one another, all trying to clarify responsibility. Arno listened to them bicker, then suggested that they just give him the description of who will arrive, together with a written letter and a seal of approval. The three voices discussed it for a bit, then agreed.

The next courier arrived exactly as described.

After that, the attempts stopped.

Not because interest had faded, but because the opening had closed.

That evening, inside the cart, Niko sat with her knees pulled up on the bench, watching Arno update the notebook.

"They really thought you wouldn't check. That got really annoying." she frowned.

"They thought that I cared more about selling the product than I did proper verification." Arno replied. "Or that I'd be too meek to actually call my contractors."

She frowned. "Did it bother you?"

"Not really. I agree with you on how it was annoying." he said. "But at least this way, they unintentionally made the whole thing more secure.."

She nodded, satisfied.

---

The change in approach didn't come from the cart itself.

After the courier attempts failed, the people who had been circling Arno stopped acting directly. No more fake drivers. No more borrowed uniforms. No one tried to intercept a delivery again. Instead, the pressure shifted outward.

Names began circulating through Lungmen's quieter channels—people who asked too many questions, who lingered without buying, who showed interest in logistics rather than food. Those names reached two different desks.

Lin's people were the first to deal with this.

They didn't approach the cart or Arno. They didn't issue warnings on the street. Instead, they used their authority to check permits, trace affiliations, and identify which groups were testing boundaries rather than negotiating. A few businesses were quietly reminded that the area around the cart was not neutral ground. Some conversations ended before they could start.

Separately, the Rat King's people received the same information.

They worked different routes and answered to different rules, but the overlap was intentional. Certain individuals found doors closed to them that had been open the day before. Others were advised—clearly, but without threats. Yet.—that interfering with ongoing arrangements would be a mistake. No enforcement was visible, but word spread quickly enough.

The coordination stayed off the street.

Lin's side handled the public-facing balance. The Rat King's side handled what didn't need to be seen. Resources were shared where it mattered: information, timing, and awareness of who was pushing too hard.

None of it reached Arno directly.

From his perspective, things simply became quieter. Fewer people hovered near the cart after pickups. Fewer "curious" questions came from strangers. Couriers arrived when scheduled, called ahead as instructed, and left with the correct crates.

Niko noticed it first.

"They're not doing that thing anymore," she said, peering down the street.

"What thing?" Arno asked.

"Standing there and pretending not to stare."

"Yes," he said. "I noticed. Certainly feels a lot more free now, huh?"

She nodded, relieved and went back to stacking trays.

The system continued to function. Contracts were honored. Deliveries went out. No one pushed for changes, and no one tried to take shortcuts.

Whatever pressure still existed had moved somewhere else, handled by people who knew how to contain it without making it visible.

---

A Change of Tactics

The people who had been circling the cart adjusted their approach once it became clear that pressure and impersonation were no longer viable. No one tried to strongarm Arno again. No one argued about contracts or hovered during pickups.

The people who originally tried to sink their claws into Arno and Niko's business changed tactics. Instead, they shifted closer in the only way left to them, not by force or authority, but by familiarity. And what better way to do that than to get closer to the warmer and more impressionable of the two cart owners?

They became customers. They stood in line, ordered food, paid properly, and smiled like they were trying to be friendly.

At first, the conversations were harmless. A woman in a pale jacket commented on how busy the street had been lately and asked Niko whether it was always like this. Niko answered cheerfully and said it was a good day, passed over the juice, and thanked her for the purchase. The woman lingered for half a second longer than necessary, then asked, casually, whether deliveries usually happened in the morning or the afternoon.

Niko's earlier smile faded a bit. She met her gaze and said, "I don't talk about that. Arno handles those kinds of things." Her tone polite but firm.

The woman blinked, laughed lightly as if embarrassed, and tried to steer the conversation to more benign things like the weather or what food she liked the most. But the earlier mood is now gone.

A few hours later, a man with an easy smile ordered bread and remarked that Niko must help out a lot around the cart. "Your guardian must trust you." he said, glancing toward the interior as if expecting Arno to be listening. "That's a lot of responsibility for someone your age."

Niko nodded once and said, "He does, so I work hard." before adding, "But I don't like answering questions about work." The man raised his hands in surrender, said he was only curious, and stepped aside, though the look he gave her suggested he hadn't expected the line to be so clearly drawn.

By the third attempt, the pattern was now obvious. Different faces, similar questions, all angled just enough to invite elaboration without demanding it. Someone asked whether things had changed recently. Someone else wondered aloud if the cart ever felt overwhelmed with attention. Niko responded the same way each time, short and consistent, never rude but never yielding ground.

When one woman leaned in and said, "You know, you can just go home. You're young. You should be at school, or playing with your friends."

Niko straightened, that last comment hitting a bit hard. Now thoroughly annoyed, she replied, "This is my responsibility. And you and your friends should stop asking."

The woman paid, avoided Niko's eyes, and didn't come back. Neither did the others.

That night, after the shutters were secured and the street had gone quiet, Niko told Arno about the encounters while he finished logging the day's counts. She explained how they spoke, what they asked, and when she decided they weren't just being friendly. "They were trying to get me to talk," she said, watching his reaction carefully. "About you. About the cart."

Arno closed the notebook and looked at her fully. "And you didn't," he said.

"No," Niko replied. "It felt wrong. Those people…they felt kinda slimy."

"Slimy?" Arno inquired.

"Yeah. They kinda felt like some kids back home." She explained. "One time, they tried to be my friends because I had a cool new coloring book. They completely ignored me when I said they couldn't borrow it, though. Those guys felt like that."

He nodded once, slow and deliberate. "I think they were trying to do the same thing as those kids you mentioned.." he said, then added, "You handled it properly."

Niko hesitated before asking, "Was I supposed to tell you sooner?"

"I knew all along, I just wanted to see how you would handle it." Arno replied. "You recognized the problem and stopped it before it went anywhere. That's exactly what I would have done. Besides, they weren't really trying to be subtle. I would've stepped in if they tried anything."

The relief on her face was immediate, though she tried to hide it. Arno allowed himself a small smile. "I'm proud of you," he said as he ruffled her hair.

Niko giggled, but began to whine about her now messy hair..

Whatever attention had been circling the cart had tried a quieter door and found it closed just as firmly.

---

Penguin Logistics didn't hear about it all at once.

They heard it the way they always did—through people getting nervous.

A fixer cancelled a job last minute and wouldn't say why. A driver suddenly decided he didn't want to work nights anymore. A middleman asked, a little too casually, whether Penguin Logistics was involved with a certain street vendor. That question alone was enough to make Exusiai curious.

So she went looking.

She didn't do it subtly. Exusiai never did. Subtlety was for follow-ups.

The man she cornered was small-time, the kind who hovered at the edge of deals and took credit for knowing people who actually mattered. She found him behind a convenience warehouse, pretending to check inventory on a datapad that wasn't connected to anything.

She landed in front of him from the roof.

"Hey," she said cheerfully.

He yelped and nearly dropped the pad.

"Relax," Exusiai added, hands raised, halo glowing faintly. "If I wanted to shoot you, you'd already be on the ground. I just wanna talk."

He swallowed. "I—I don't know you."

"That's fine," she said. "I know you."

That did not help his nerves.

She tilted her head, studying him. "So. I've been hearing about a food cart. Merchant's been turning down contracts. Real polite about it, too. Won't budge. Won't even counteroffer. That sound familiar?"

The man hesitated.

Exusiai smiled a little wider. "Before you answer, just so you know—I already talked to a few other people today. You're not the first. You're just the one who didn't immediately lie to me, so congratulations."

"…He wouldn't negotiate," the man finally admitted. "Not beyond what he already agreed to. Set terms. Fixed limits. No exceptions."

"And that annoyed people," Exusiai said.

"Yeah," he replied. "They figured he'd soften eventually. Or maybe that wasn't the real problem."

Exusiai's expression didn't change. "Meaning?"

"The kid," he said, quieter now. "She's the one out front half the time. Friendly. Talks to customers. People thought… maybe she'd be easier to approach."

"Approach how?" Exusiai asked.

He sighed. "Friendly questions. Nothing threatening. Ask how busy they've been. Whether things changed recently. Who comes by in the mornings. Stuff like that."

Exusiai straightened slightly. "And the merchant?"

"They tried first," he said quickly. "Offered logistics help. Distribution. Protection. Took a cut, sure, but framed it as support. He shut them down every time."

"And when that didn't work," Exusiai said, voice flat, "they shifted targets."

"They weren't gonna hurt her," he said defensively. "Just talk. Build rapport."

"That's worse," Exusiai replied immediately.

He flinched.

She pushed off the crate and stepped closer, tone still light, still conversational, but no longer forgiving. "Let me be very clear. When someone ignores a 'no' from an adult and decides to redirect that effort toward a kid, that stops being business. That becomes a problem."

"They already backed off," he said quickly. "After the girl shut them down. She didn't give them anything. Word spread that she wouldn't work as an angle."

"Good," Exusiai said. "That means she handled it."

She folded her arms. "Now here's what's going to happen next. You're going to go back to whoever you know that's still thinking about this and tell them it's over. No contracts. No 'friendly chats.' No lingering questions."

"And if they ask why?" he asked.

"You tell them you don't know," Exusiai replied easily. "You just know that the cart is off-limits. And that pushing it is a bad idea."

"And if they don't listen?"

Exusiai shrugged. "Then I'll talk to them too. And next time, I'll bring my friends."

She stepped aside, clearing his path. He didn't wait for permission. He bolted, not looking back.

Later that evening, Exusiai kicked her feet up on a table at Penguin Logistics' base, tearing open a bag of snacks. "They tried negotiating first," she reported between bites. "When that failed, they went soft. Thought they could get answers by being friendly."

Texas glanced up from her phone. "You stopped it?"

"Yeah," Exusiai said. "Before it went anywhere stupid."

"How are Arno and Niko?" Texas asked.

Exusiai smiled, softer now. "Still selling food. Still refusing bad deals. Kid's apparently sharp enough to spot nonsense a mile away."

"That's good," Texas said.

Exusiai leaned back. "Let's keep it that way, huh?"

Texas faintly smiled. "Yeah. I'm heading to the cart later to get more of those sugarettes for Emperor and I."

"Let's go right now!" Exusiai said, already standing. "I wanna see Niko, and get apple pie. And maybe grab some of those canned drinks Sora likes."

Somewhere else in Lungmen, interest quietly evaporated. Conversations ended early. Plans were revised, then abandoned.

And in the cart, Arno locked up for the night, unaware that the pressure had changed shape, and that it had failed just as completely as before.

 

[Despacitoleo]

Mc needs to use his merchant powers to go plague god on the fuckers
Mc: cart they tried to fuck with our employee by having her give up company secrets what can you do to help?

Mysterious cart: execution

 

[Loggger_master]

The saying "You win more flies with honey than with vinegar" held true as always, even if unintentionally on Arno's part.
My man has been leaving his field of fucks barren since he came to Terra.

 

[Aidas456]

The saying "You win more flies with honey than with vinegar" held true as always, even if unintentionally on Arno's part.
My man has been leaving his field of fucks barren since he came to Terra.

Click to shrink...

Too busy selling goods to grow a fuck.

 

[stoodeu]

Thanks for the chapter.

 

[Kencord]

Mc needs to use his merchant powers to go plague god on the fuckers
Mc: cart they tried to fuck with our employee by having her give up company secrets what can you do to help?

Mysterious cart: execution

Click to shrink...

More like, "Fool! You can't trick information about my suppliers and their product out of us if WE DON'T KNOW EITHER!"

Shocked face. Lean in. "And they will never believe you...."

 

[Paracsus]

Hello everyone. I would like you guys to kindly answer my poll because I want some feedback on this. Some of my friends tell me that I'm releasing new products and notices too quickly for how many chapters this fic currently has. Meanwhile, my beta reader tells me that the pacing itself is okay right now since each chapter takes place at least a few days or even a week between each other unless I say so.

If I'm giving Arno and Niko too many different new items too quickly, please let me know. it helps.

 

[Loggger_master]

Hello everyone. I would like you guys to kindly answer my poll because I want some feedback on this. Some of my friends tell me that I'm releasing new products and notices too quickly for how many chapters this fic currently has. Meanwhile, my beta reader tells me that the pacing itself is okay right now since each chapter takes place at least a few days or even a week between each other unless I say so.

If I'm giving Arno and Niko too many different new items too quickly, please let me know. it helps.

Click to shrink...

Look dude, I'm going to be honest.
Arknights has a kinda tight timeframe, and I feel like our duo is barely fitting to it as is. Besides, if you drag things out too much you may find yourself running out of motivation to continue, which is a death sentence that killed fics that were way longer than this.
While the final say is of course yours, I would say stick to, or even hasten a bit, the schedule.
I love what you are doing here.

 

[Paracsus]

Look dude, I'm going to be honest.
Arknights has a kinda tight timeframe, and I feel like our duo is barely fitting to it as is. Besides, if you drag things out too much you may find yourself running out of motivation to continue, which is a death sentence that killed fics that were way longer than this.
While the final say is of course yours, I would say stick to, or even hasten a bit, the schedule.
I love what you are doing here.

Click to shrink...

"Running out of motivation to continue" *Proceeds to make a 400 chapter fanfic worthy of WebNovel*

Jokes aside, I think that it only has a tight timeframe if I try to make Arno and Niko stick to the canon events and be with Rhodes. As long as I don't do that (or perhaps let canon run in the background), I can stretch it out for much longer.

But you have a point that I should perhaps galvanize a little bit. I think I have ways to do that.

 

[Tenno]

Chapter — Even More Increased Demand

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Man, even after all these years. That one scene of her eating pancakes was so perfect. It always made me tear up.

 

[Tenno]

A Customer's Musings

Living in a city can be Noisy, cramped, and smelly. Even more so in a Mobile City like Lungmen, a thriving hub of exchange and commerce. From the highest of luxuries to the smallest of oddities, anything can be found here. Especially oddities, like the strange cart parked in front of my building.

A cart that strangely looks to be made of wood, yet behaves like a normal vehicle. Strange, eccentric even. But also, unique in a way a lone tree stands in the middle of a paved highway.

But that isnt even the strangest thing about it. It's the products being sold that take that spot. Like the candies that give you a little pick-me-up, to candy cigars that have all the traits of a cigar except the bad ones, like bad-smelling smoke. Or the boxed lunches and meals that can make you feel less hungry, as strange as that sounds.

Tried those candies myself when I needed the extra energy during work. Gave me just enough to make it back home to my bed before crashing. Been a loyal customer for 2 weeks now.

And speaking of customers, I've been noticing a lot of people just standing way off. Looking busy trying to blend in, or at least trying to. I mean, they all choose to stand in the spots where they have a place to hide in, and are almost always fully covered. It doesn't take a genius to realize that they were spies. But who's? i dont know, and I'd rather not know.

Besides suspected criminals, other groups also started buying. Like the cops, a bunch of high society student types from some school? assembly? i dont know. And a branch of a medical company. Hell i even saw that one idol, Sora I think, with her co-workers at the cart.

At this rate, some big names are gonna start showing up. Which means more trouble, more opportunities for the cart, and maybe some entertainment for me as I watch from my second-floor window. No one knows.

All I know is that the carts been consistent, and will stay consistent.

Also, might ask if he's thinking of adding coffee to his list of products. Hoping to replace my unhealthy coffee addiction with his healthy coffee, hopefully.

 

[Paracsus]

A Customer's Musings

Living in a city can be Noisy, cramped, and smelly. Even more so in a Mobile City like Lungmen, a thriving hub of exchange and commerce. From the highest of luxuries to the smallest of oddities, anything can be found here. Especially oddities, like the strange cart parked in front of my building.

A cart that strangely looks to be made of wood, yet behaves like a normal vehicle. Strange, eccentric even. But also, unique in a way a lone tree stands in the middle of a paved highway.

But that isnt even the strangest thing about it. It's the products being sold that take that spot. Like the candies that give you a little pick-me-up, to candy cigars that have all the traits of a cigar except the bad ones, like bad-smelling smoke. Or the boxed lunches and meals that can make you feel less hungry, as strange as that sounds.

Tried those candies myself when I needed the extra energy during work. Gave me just enough to make it back home to my bed before crashing. Been a loyal customer for 2 weeks now.

And speaking of customers, I've been noticing a lot of people just standing way off. Looking busy trying to blend in, or at least trying to. I mean, they all choose to stand in the spots where they have a place to hide in, and are almost always fully covered. It doesn't take a genius to realize that they were spies. But who's? i dont know, and I'd rather not know.

Besides suspected criminals, other groups also started buying. Like the cops, a bunch of high society student types from some school? assembly? i dont know. And a branch of a medical company. Hell i even saw that one idol, Sora I think, with her co-workers at the cart.

At this rate, some big names are gonna start showing up. Which means more trouble, more opportunities for the cart, and maybe some entertainment for me as I watch from my second-floor window. No one knows.

All I know is that the carts been consistent, and will stay consistent.

Also, might ask if he's thinking of adding coffee to his list of products. Hoping to replace my unhealthy coffee addiction with his healthy coffee, hopefully.

Click to shrink...

A customer POV, huh? Cool.

To the extra chapters, you go!

 

[Turncoat]

I've been enjoying this story, for how low key it is.

 

[Paracsus]

I've been enjoying this story, for how low key it is.

Click to shrink...

Thanks. I've been reading merchant/shop fics on WN, and I decided that "How about I make something like that, but NOT invite trouble immediately?"

The ones I've seen are pretty fun, but I don't like some things that most have in common like the No Violence Zone, World Ending Power Through Quests, etc. Hence I tried to nerf Arno and the Cart without it seeming so unfair to him.

Don't wanna gamify my fic too much either since I don't wanna shove a Status screen in my readers' faces every few paragraphs, and if I did it would just seem like any other gamer fic such as that of DarkWolfShiro (fun stories, but when you read one, you've read them all).

 

[Turncoat]

The ones I've seen are pretty fun, but I don't like some things that most have in common like the No Violence Zone, World Ending Power Through Quests, etc. Hence I tried to nerf Arno and the Cart without it seeming so unfair to him.

Click to shrink...

Got a link to any of these stories?

 

[Paracsus]

Got a link to any of these stories?

Click to shrink...

http://wbnv.in/a/f3jbcUd

http://wbnv.in/a/0djbcUt

There. I recall having a few others, but I think they're gone now since I can't see them anymore on my saved list.

 

[The Throngler]

It's rare to find stories with Niko in them so I'm glad to have found this one. Also unreasonably angry that they tried getting past Arno using Niko.

 

[zecorezecron]

Honestly, I think the biggest issue with the story isnt new products, it is that Arno doesn't really do anything. He sell stuff and that's it. He doesn't interact with characters beyond taking money. In crude terms, he is a vending machine with a pulse. There are no stakes for him beyond personal preferences. He doesn't need to aquire stock, he doesn't spend the money he earns(on screen anyway) and he seemingly has no real goals beyond "take money, give stuff". He isn't even friends with anyone.

Now, contrast with Niko, who does have some emotional investment in wanting to do a good job and learning stuff.

A new product wouldn't help barring a severe departure from the stars quo. It would be another round of "people like product > criminals fail to copy product > couriers like product" that has happened three times with no real deviation.

And honestly, the cart rules do a lot to hamstring the story since they boil down to "sell stuff, but don't have any ambition" like he is a cashier at McDonald's.

There's probably a better way of phrasing it, but I cant think of it.

 

[Paracsus]

Honestly, I think the biggest issue with the story isnt new products, it is that Arno doesn't really do anything. He sell stuff and that's it. He doesn't interact with characters beyond taking money. In crude terms, he is a vending machine with a pulse. There are no stakes for him beyond personal preferences. He doesn't need to aquire stock, he doesn't spend the money he earns(on screen anyway) and he seemingly has no real goals beyond "take money, give stuff". He isn't even friends with anyone.

Now, contrast with Niko, who does have some emotional investment in wanting to do a good job and learning stuff.

A new product wouldn't help barring a severe departure from the stars quo. It would be another round of "people like product > criminals fail to copy product > couriers like product" that has happened three times with no real deviation.

And honestly, the cart rules do a lot to hamstring the story since they boil down to "sell stuff, but don't have any ambition" like he is a cashier at McDonald's.

There's probably a better way of phrasing it, but I cant think of it.

Click to shrink...

That's on me. I have plans for Arno later on, I just want him to sort of find find his place hear in the new world and make some friends along the way.

I just wanted to know if I'm introducing too many things all at once because that could negatively affect the world building. Same reason I'm not suddenly giving out Materia or Devil Fruit or the like.

 

[Paracsus]

Negotiations

The Penguin Logistics Warehouse looked slow today, Arno thought.

When Arno arrived, the wide loading area was only partially occupied, with several bays left open and their lights switched off. A few trucks sat parked near the far wall, their cargo already unloaded. Inside, staff moved at a slower pace, sorting paperwork, checking inventory, and moving small batches of crates rather than handling full delivery runs. The usual noise was subdued, replaced by steady footsteps and occasional conversation.

'Maybe it's because I came on a Saturday.' Arno told himself.

He stepped inside and adjusted the strap of his bag.

"Arno!"

Exusiai's voice cut through the space immediately.

He barely had time to look up before she was already in front of him, grin wide, wings twitching with energy that stood out sharply against the quieter atmosphere.

"I didn't expect to see you here!" she said. "On a weekend, no less. I thought you'd be at the mall, or whatever it is you do on weekends."

"I wanted to have a talk with your boss." Arno replied, returning the smile. "Nothing bad, don't worry. I just decided that now seemed like a good time."

Texas approached from behind Exusiai, a clipboard tucked under one arm. "You picked a good day. Emperor's in his office right now. If you hear music, then he's probably not that busy."

"I figured as much," Arno said.

Exusiai leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Still, it's nice seeing you without a line of customers breathing down your neck."

"That goes both ways," Arno said. "Your visits usually end with someone asking if you're part of the staff."

"By the way," She looked around for a while, looking for a familiar purple haired assistant. "Where's Niko? We kinda thought you guys were inseparable."

"She's at home resting. She caught a fever after playing in the rain last night without thinking it through," Arno finished. "I didn't want to drag her out, especially not today."

Exusiai's expression softened immediately. "Ah. Yeah, that'll do it."

"She insisted she was fine this morning," Arno added. "But I told her to stay in bed anyway."

"That's probably for the best," Texas said. "She works hard."

Exusiai nodded, wings folding in a little. "Tell her I said to get better soon, okay?"

"I will," Arno replied.

With that settled, Exusiai's mood lifted again almost instantly. "Since you're already here, want a tour? Saturdays are boring unless we find excuses to walk around."

Texas gave a small nod. "We have time."

They started near the loading bays. Most of the work there was administrative rather than physical—workers checking crate seals, updating route assignments, and marking completed deliveries. Exusiai pointed out how shipments were staged depending on urgency, explaining which routes were handled first during the week and which were intentionally left for quieter days.

"Weekends are for fixing mistakes before they become problems," she said. "Better safe than sorry. Especially since it's a pain in the ass to explain to the client why their package is busted."

Arno watched as two staff members compared a printed manifest against the markings on a crate, double-checking the seal before closing it again. One of them marked something down on a clipboard before moving the crate to a different section of the floor.

Texas nodded. "If something's off, it gets caught here instead of halfway through a delivery."

They continued further into the warehouse. Croissant called out from the top of a stack of crates, waving briefly before returning to her work. Sora passed by shortly after, carrying a box toward the storage area and offering Arno a small smile in passing. Nearby, Bison reviewed a checklist, then looked up long enough to acknowledge Arno with a polite nod.

"You're kinda popular around here, ya know?" Exusiai said as they walked. "The guys really like your food and candy."

Arno smiled slightly. "I'll take that."

They reached the upper walkway that overlooked the main floor. From there, Arno could see that fewer teams were working at once, with wide gaps between active areas and no one moving at a hurried pace.

He rested his hands on the railing. "It's easier to see how things are organized when it's like this."

Exusiai leaned against the rail beside him. "Yeah. At least this way, it's not hard to find something."

"Exusiai tends to be a bit of a klutz when she's not focused." Texas chimed in. "You should've seen the number of times the team had to frantically look for a certain package because she forgot to catalogue it properly."

"Don't tell him that! I got better, didn't I!?" The Sankta objected.

They stood there and talked for a while, watching workers move between stations and update boards along the wall.

After a moment, Arno straightened.

"Alright, I really need to get this over with." he said, turning toward Texas, "You mentioned before that Emperor wanted to talk to me."

Texas nodded. "He did."

Exusiai's expression shifted into a familiar grin. "Ah. That talk."

Arno let out a short breath. "Yeah."

Texas gestured toward the stairwell leading up from the walkway. "His office is upstairs."

Arno took one last look at the floor below, then followed them.

---

Arno knocked once before opening the door. Emperor was seated behind his desk, tablet in hand, scrolling through what appeared to be delivery schedules rather than formal reports. He glanced up at the sound, then paused, his expression shifting with mild surprise as he registered his visitor.

"Well, look who we have here." Emperor said, setting the tablet down. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"Texas mentioned you wanted to talk," Arno replied evenly. "I thought Saturday would be better than interrupting a weekday shift. Sorry for the delay, I was still new to everything and getting called up by her boss certainly wasn't on my bingo card."

Emperor chuckled at the reasoning for a brief moment before giving a small nod. "No problemo. Come in, please."

Arno stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. The office felt noticeably quieter than the warehouse floor outside; only the low, steady vibration of distant machinery and occasional muffled voices filtered through the walls. Emperor leaned back in his chair, his wings settling loosely against the sides as he gestured toward the chair across from the desk. Arno sat, posture straight but not rigid, waiting.

"I want to explain why we took an interest in what you were selling," Emperor began, his tone measured and deliberate. "Not gonna grill you on something like this, don't worry. I actually like how you're doing this."

Arno remained silent, giving him space to continue.

"The sugarettes and butter candies were unusual," Emperor said. "We didn't think much of them at the time considering they looked just like simple candies and cigs. But when we tried them? My man, we were blown away! Think about it, right? Cigarettes that didn't smell, taste, or feel like breathing in exhaust fumes, and candies that kept you up and alert for a little longer? Now that is genius right there."

He paused briefly, folding his wings more tightly against his back as though gathering his thoughts.

"More than that, the effects were consistent; downright unreal even. Even when people started bringing their own packs of the stuff, nobody got sick or anything on the stuff. And who would complain about a warehouse smelling like flowers instead of packaging tape and old paper? No one, that's who."

Arno inclined his head once in acknowledgment, the gesture small but attentive.

"When the bars entered circulation, however," Emperor said, his voice gaining a measured firmness, "they represented something different. They became more than a personal convenience."

Arno's shoulders tightened, the movement subtle but perceptible.

"When Exusiai came back from that job, she couldn't wait to tell the whole team about what happened." Emperor explained. "How she outran that mob, their arrows,and their fireballs, man. She said she felt like she was out there flying! And then, the bars entered the market. They sure as hell made deliveries easier to do around here, caused some of the boys in the warehouse to do some stupid shit too. Nothing like a 4 day leave without pay would fix though. Thankfully, you managed to stop all that nasty business, huh? People still wonder how you stopped the effect cold turkey like that, too."

Arno did not answer right away. He kept his hands folded loosely in his lap, eyes on Emperor, expression unchanged.

"I didn't stop anything after the fact," he said finally. "The bars were built with limits from the start. What you saw was people hitting them."

Emperor nodded once, accepting the answer without pushing back. "Yeah. That tracks with what we noticed. Morons wanting the ability to fly like our dear angel downstairs. Whatever you did made things a whole lot easier and safer for the folks who use it for work."

He let out a short laugh as he reminisced on some incidents that happened.

"Thanks for that by the way. You should've seen the looks on some people's faces when they tried to steal our packages with those bars, only to eat the pavement and asphalt when it didn't work.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. The casual tone stayed, but the focus sharpened.

Emperor rested his flippers on the desk and looked at Arno directly.

"So the main reason I called you here today," he said, "Is that I wanna make a contract.."

Arno didn't respond, but he didn't look away either.

"They made some of our runs easier," Emperor continued. "We met deadlines on deals that would've cost a pretty penny to lose out on, and it also kept my crew safe when some losers tried to take our shit. Case in point with Exia."

He reached for the tablet again, but this time he didn't turn it around. He just glanced at it briefly before setting it aside.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you in person," he said. "I wanted to see if we can find a way to help each other out. If not, we can just continue as we're going right now. Don't wanna piss off the crew by making you upset with Penguin Logistics as a whole."

Arno shifted slightly in his chair. "Help each other how."

Emperor spread his wings a little, then let them rest against the back of the chair again. "By setting limits instead of letting things drift."

He spoke plainly, without emphasis.

"We don't want the bars lying around the warehouse," he said. "We don't want people grabbing one whenever they feel like it. And we don't want anyone planning a job around the assumption that they'll always have one."

Arno nodded once. "That was never the idea."

"Yeah," Emperor said. "Texas and Croissant would turn me into a wall decoration if I allowed that."

He leaned forward slightly.

"What I'm asking for is a small, regular supply," Emperor continued. "Not a lot. Just enough for specific runs that are already tight on time. No stockpiling. No using them to cover bad planning. A dozen should be fine."

Arno folded his hands together. "And if someone pushes past that."

"Then it stops," Emperor said. "Immediately. No arguing about it. If it starts causing trouble, it's not worth keeping."

Arno took a moment before responding.

"You're not asking for exclusivity," he said.

"No," Emperor replied. "And we're not touching your other products. Those stay exactly as they are."

Emperor paused, then added, "In return, we treat you as a partner."

Arno looked up at him. Emperor continued without making a big deal out of it.

"If you ever need something moved," Emperor continued, his tone still even, "you won't have to solve it alone. You let us know what you need delivered, when it needs to get there, and where it's allowed to go. I'll assign someone from the team who's available at the time."

He shifted his weight slightly and added, "That includes jobs you don't want to step away from the cart for. Or days when you'd rather stay put."

Arno sat back in his chair, his hands resting loosely together as he considered it. He had handled transport himself for as long as the cart allowed it, but that came with limits. Leaving meant closing early. Closing early meant fewer chances to catch problems before they started.

"You wouldn't be taking over distribution," Arno said. "Only handling what I authorize."

"Exactly," Emperor replied. "No rerouting. No substitutions. No one decides anything on your behalf."

Arno nodded once. "As much as I trust your crew, what if someone on your side tries to pull a fast one?."

"Then it's on me," Emperor said without hesitation. "I shut it down."

The certainty in his response was clear. Emperor wasn't promising oversight in theory; he was placing responsibility squarely on himself.

Arno let out a quiet breath. The offer was a godsend to him and Niko. It addressed a practical problem he had been working around for months without forcing him to loosen control over the cart or its rules.

"I won't give you an answer today," Arno said.

Emperor smiled slightly. "Good, no deal should be done on impulse. Those are the kind that bite you in the ass."

Arno stood, straightening his coat. "I'll think it through and get back to you."

"That's fine," Emperor replied. "However it turns out."

Arno paused at the door before leaving, glancing back once.

"For what it's worth," he said, "I appreciate the way you're handling this."

Emperor gave a short nod. "Likewise. Oh, and bring the kid next time. If she's as cute as the resident redhead says, she'll be a treat to have around the warehouse."

Arno stepped out of the office, leaving the conversation unfinished—but clearly defined.

---

Arno entered the cart and closed the door with care to avoid a loud click. He then walked over to the shared bedroom to check on his ward. The room was dimly lit by a single table lamp in the corner. Niko remained asleep on her bed, curled beneath the blanket, breathing evenly through her mouth. Her clothes were slightly sticky from sweat due to her heightened temperature and she had what used to be a bag of ice on her head to help cool her down.

He approached the bed first. Niko lay on her side, one arm folded under the blanket, her face still warm from the fever. Arno lifted the edge of the blanket and drew it up to cover her shoulders more fully. He took the digital thermometer from the shelf beside her, held it under her tongue until it beeped, then checked the reading in the lamp's light. The temperature had dropped since morning but remained elevated. He returned the thermometer to its place.

He placed his bag beside the door and went directly to the sink in the kitchenette. Arno washed his hands with soap and water, then dried them on the towel hanging from the hook. He moved quietly across the floor, keeping his steps light.

In the kitchenette, he filled a small pot with water and set it on the stove. He peeled two carrots and one potato, cut them into even pieces, and added them to the pot along with a measured amount of chicken stock from the refrigerator. He turned the burner to low, placed a lid on the pot at an angle to allow steam to escape, and stayed nearby. He stirred the contents every few minutes with a wooden spoon, scraping the bottom to prevent sticking.

While the soup simmered, his thoughts returned to the discussion at the warehouse. Emperor had requested a fixed weekly quantity of the bars—twelve units—for use only on designated high-priority delivery routes. All usage would be recorded. No storage beyond immediate need would be permitted, and no redistribution would be allowed. Any breach would terminate access for the individual responsible. In exchange, Penguin Logistics would provide delivery service for Arno's shipments when he specified the items, destination, and timing, assigning available personnel without altering his instructions.

Arno adjusted the heat slightly downward as small bubbles began to rise.

He had maintained strict control over distribution to prevent patterns of overuse. The bars already influenced certain behaviors at Penguin Logistics, though incidents had remained minor and perpetrators were dealt with accordingly. Extending limited access to a structured group carried manageable risk if the conditions remained firm. Exusiai and Texas had been careful with it when they first got access to the bars, and even with new knowledge of its capabilities, they did not abuse it. Such careful consideration, paired with their record and friendship thus far, plays a rather large part in how he'd consider the deal.

He tasted the broth with a clean spoon, added a small amount of salt, stirred again, and removed the pot from the burner. He transferred a portion to a bowl and set it on the counter to cool. The remainder stayed in the pot, covered.

Arno returned to the bedroom and sat on the low stool he kept nearby. Niko shifted once in her sleep but did not wake. He rested his elbows on his knees and watched her for several minutes, noting the rise and fall of her breathing. He reached over and straightened the pillow beneath her head to better support her neck.

The soup would be ready to serve when Niko woke. For the moment, he began washing his dishes and cleaning the kitchenette while the soup cooled enough for his ward to eat without hurting herself. As he did this, he decided to put the decision with Emperor to the back burner for now. His immediate responsibilities needed him now, physically and mentally.

---

A Simple Request

Three days have passed after the talk with Emperor. Arno decided to simply give Texas a call to tell her boss that he needs more time to think on it. Emperor was perfectly fine with this, because unlike the regular bentos, the Windrunner's Fuel is a completely different ballpark and he understood that. Arno was grateful for the fact that Penguin Logistics was not so strict when it came to their timetable, and decided to throw in a pack or two of sugarettes when one of his crew came by to purchase food.


Niko's recovery progressed swiftly and without complication. By the second morning after her illness, the fever had subsided entirely. She spent that day seated on the couch on Arno's insistence, a blanket resting across her shoulders. By the third day, she had returned to her place behind the counter. Once she was back on her feet, it was business as always…after a scolding from Arno about not taking care of herself.

During the afternoon lull, when the line had momentarily thinned, a regular customer stopped by and chatted with the shopkeep as he bought his usual walnut bread and butter candies. He seemed to work at a hospital, judging from the scrubs he wore and the ID pinned to his shirt. Before he left, he presented the shopkeep with a question.

"Do you sell coffee here?" he inquired. "I don't mean the instant garbage you'd see in a breakroom or something. I want something special y'know? Like the rest of the food here."

He motioned to his bread and candies, a flicker of hope in his tired eyes.

"People would love it too, especially for people who usually do overtime…"

Arno regarded him steadily across the counter. "Not sure yet. My…supplier just gives me the stuff to sell. I don't really control what comes up." he replied. A half-lie. He didn't want to get anyone's hopes up and start making promises.

The customer accepted the response with a nod. "Alright, thanks. Should that change in the future, I would appreciate being informed. I would make the switch without delay."

He completed the payment, gathered his purchases, and departed along the same path he had arrived on. Unaware of the changes that occurred just after that inquiry.

Arno returned to the storeroom to retrieve an additional box of sugarettes for restocking. As he did so, he observed that the compartment now contained more than it had earlier in the day. A large crate occupied a position flush against the interior wall. Its exterior was matte, unadorned, and simple.

Niko called from the front. "Arno? Is everything all right back there? The line is beginning to grow again!"

"Yeah!" he called back. "I'll be right there!"

He retrieved the required items, returned to the counter, and resumed operations without further remark. He would deal with this tonight, when there were no customers to tend to. The afternoon proceeded without any fuss.

When the final customer left and the street outside grew quiet, Arno lowered and secured the shutters, then locked the service window. Niko performed a final wipe-down of the counter before joining him to rest in the cart. She removed her shoes and sat on the couch. She then turned on the T.V. to some sort of Originium Slug documentary. Arno raised an eyebrow at her choice of show.

"I think they look cute." Niko remarked. Arno shrugged and started a pot of tea.

As he waited for the water to boil, only then did Arno retrieve the crate from the storeroom. He carried it to the living area where Niko was sitting. Niko observed closely as he placed it down.

"Is that the thing you noticed earlier?" she asked.

"Yes," Arno confirmed.

He opened the crate. Inside rested two distinct smaller boxes. Inside were cans of coffee.

One box contained neatly stacked cans each equipped with a visible twisting mechanism at the base for activating the internal heating element. This one had a dark red and brown color scheme, as well as instructions on how to use it.

The second was an insulated container, cool to the touch, holding the cold-variant cans. A faint, steady chill emanated from their surfaces. Unlike it's warmer counterpart, this one was a dark blue and brown.

Nestled on the two boxes lay a single sheet of paper, folded once. Arno unfolded the sheet and read it aloud in a calm, measured tone so Niko could follow.


Brewed Coffee (Canned): Terran Roast

Consumed as a beverage.

Types: Hot and Cold Variants Available

Effect: provides alertness and removes fatigue. Hot variant sustains wakefulness over a longer period. Cold variant delivers immediate reduction of weariness.

Duration: hot – prolonged (several hours); cold – immediate but shorter (one to two hours).

Aftereffect: none; repeated consumption within limits does not cause discomfort or tolerance.

Available items include:

• Hot Coffee (self-heating can)
• Cold Coffee (pre-chilled can)

Sizes:

• Cans: 350 ml

Preparation:

• Hot Coffee: twist tab to activate internal heater; reaches serving temperature in a few minutes.
• Cold Coffee: remains cold during consumption without additional refrigeration.

Flavors:

• Bolivar Latte (Spanish Latte)
• Leithanien Roast (Straight Black)
• Sargonian Spiced Latte (Dirty Chai)
• Lungmen Yuanyang

Note:
This product does not substitute for adequate rest. Consumption should occur at a measured pace. Effects do not accumulate when combined with other stimulants or upon repeated ingestion within the same operating cycle. The alerting effect manifests only after a minimum interval of seven hours has elapsed following consumption of the initial serving.



A quiet settled inside the cart.

Niko looked at the two boxes. Her ears moved a little. "Is that coffee?" she asked.

"Yes," Arno said.

She made a face. "Eugh, I tried coffee once before. I wanted to know why Mama and all the other adults drink it all the time. It tasted like I licked some burnt wood."

She stuck her tongue out in disgust, as if to emphasize her point.

"I don't like it that much either. I hate how it makes me all jittery inside." Arno commented. He only really drank coffee when he was pulling all nighters back on Earth, and even then he only did it when he really needed to.

Arno looked at the boxes more carefully. The hot cans had twist-tabs at the bottom. The cold cans felt cold even inside the insulated box. The instructions were simple. Customers could only drink around one can each day. The effects were useful but controlled. The hot kind lasted longer. The cold kind worked fast but did not last as long.

It seemed that when the hospital worker asked for some coffee, the Cart was listening.

Niko waited a moment. Then she asked, "Is this okay to have?"

Arno did not answer right away. He took one hot can and one cold can out of the boxes.

He was instantly assaulted by a feeling of impending doom, but shrugged it off since that seemed ridiculous coming from cans of coffee.

For the hot can, he twisted the tab at the bottom. It made a quiet sound. The can got warm after a few minutes. He opened it and took one small sip. The coffee tasted good; not super bitter, it held a sweetness that didn't detract from the taste of high quality beans, as well as a richness that didn't taste watered down like for commercial drinks. He felt more awake slowly, and the feeling stayed steady without making him shake.

Then he opened the cold can. It was still cold. He took one sip and tasted that same taste as its warmer counterpart, but this one gave a sort of refreshing feeling like the Quenching Concoctions. The tiredness from the day went away quickly.

The thing the two variants have in common is that the cans were labelled with their respective flavors.

He put both cans down.

Niko watched him. "Are we selling these?"

"Yes, we just need to be careful for this one."

Niko pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. "Will people want it?"

"Yes," he replied. "Those on night shifts or long hours will try to buy it regularly. They will stop or at least slow down when they realize it does not replace sleep."

She stayed quiet for a moment. The television continued playing the documentary in the background.

"Will you tell Texas or Exusiai?" she asked.

"I will mention it the next time one of them visits," Arno said. "No special announcement. If Emperor wants to discuss a supply agreement for the bars, he can learn about the coffee then. He can decide whether to include it."

Niko gave a small nod. "That makes sense."

Arno stood, took the two cans to the kitchen and put them in the fridge. He put the crate back at the loading area to avoid leaving a mess. Tomorrow he would move it behind the counter, and only sell it to those who probably need it. To those who looked like they were dead on their feet.

He dried his hands and turned off the kitchenette light. Niko had pulled the blanket higher and was watching the screen. The documentary had reached a segment on the Slugs eating some pineapples.

"Go to bed soon, okay? We will have a busy day tomorrow." Arno said as he walked towards the bedroom.

She agreed without looking away.

For now, the two occupants relaxed, completely unaware of the pandemonium that was sure to come.

---

AN: Been a while, huh? Sorry for the delay, I will post the next chapter this weekend if I can. The thing with the self-heating cans just came to me recently. I didn't know those were a thing until just the other day when some guys on YouTube disected one to show how the heater works. It's pretty cool.

 

[zecorezecron]

That's on me. I have plans for Arno later on, I just want him to sort of find find his place hear in the new world and make some friends along the way.

I just wanted to know if I'm introducing too many things all at once because that could negatively affect the world building. Same reason I'm not suddenly giving out Materia or Devil Fruit or the like.

Click to shrink...

Honestly, I don't really think it would matter if you had Arno selling high end stuff. As harsh as it is to say, what he is selling is mostly irrelevant to his character so far. The only impact his sales have had is a very brief bit of worry about people misusing his goods, which I think was a missed opportunity for leaving the shop and building connections. If he was worried about the wrong people getting the speedy granola bars, he could have gone looking for the right people to sell them to. Maybe had to deal with the fall out of the wrong people getting some.

Without some kind of retcon about how the shop works, there is really only one way for Arno to actually develop. He needs to leave the shop. He has to interact with the local characters in a way that isn't just "Get money, give product" and actually make friends that aren't just extensions of the shop.

There also need to be some sort of payoff for his work. Niko has her learning and interacting with the customers, but that is about tapped out. Arno didn't even have that. Arno can't even work harder to achieve a goal because the cart prevents that, so the payoff has to come from something unrelated to the cart.

With retcons/rewriting a few parts of some chapters, there are a few ways to patch things to open it a bit more, but that's not really feasible.

Spoiler: Not feasible, but I wrote them anyway

Firstly, you could eliminate the free product he gets and have him make the goods himself. This can add to the narrative because now he must secure supply's and failure is an actual possibility. The effects he adds to the food can be his shop based power or something, and just make the creation of good harder or something.

Second, you can have him go out and solicit customers instead of having them come to him. Those bulk orders would have been a perfect way to have him make friends and connection in the world as long as he went to them instead of everyone coming to him. It would add some narrative tension about his success in the sales pitch.

Thirdly, there has to be a reward of some kind for his work. Tying back to the first point, it might allow better "recipes" for stuff he can make or give him actual abilities or something. But as it stands, it seems very unfulfilling.

Now I am going to read the chapter that posted while I was typing this.

 

[Paracsus]

Honestly, I don't really think it would matter if you had Arno selling high end stuff. As harsh as it is to say, what he is selling is mostly irrelevant to his character so far. The only impact his sales have had is a very brief bit of worry about people misusing his goods, which I think was a missed opportunity for leaving the shop and building connections. If he was worried about the wrong people getting the speedy granola bars, he could have gone looking for the right people to sell them to. Maybe had to deal with the fall out of the wrong people getting some.

Without some kind of retcon about how the shop works, there is really only one way for Arno to actually develop. He needs to leave the shop. He has to interact with the local characters in a way that isn't just "Get money, give product" and actually make friends that aren't just extensions of the shop.

There also need to be some sort of payoff for his work. Niko has her learning and interacting with the customers, but that is about tapped out. Arno didn't even have that. Arno can't even work harder to achieve a goal because the cart prevents that, so the payoff has to come from something unrelated to the cart.

With retcons/rewriting a few parts of some chapters, there are a few ways to patch things to open it a bit more, but that's not really feasible.

Spoiler: Not feasible, but I wrote them anyway

Firstly, you could eliminate the free product he gets and have him make the goods himself. This can add to the narrative because now he must secure supply's and failure is an actual possibility. The effects he adds to the food can be his shop based power or something, and just make the creation of good harder or something.

Second, you can have him go out and solicit customers instead of having them come to him. Those bulk orders would have been a perfect way to have him make friends and connection in the world as long as he went to them instead of everyone coming to him. It would add some narrative tension about his success in the sales pitch.

Thirdly, there has to be a reward of some kind for his work. Tying back to the first point, it might allow better "recipes" for stuff he can make or give him actual abilities or something. But as it stands, it seems very unfulfilling.

Now I am going to read the chapter that posted while I was typing this.

Click to shrink...

I thank you for the criticisms. Hope you enjoy.

 

[Dan O'von]

People go koo-koo for regular coffee. I've heard stories of more than one death threat for someone denying someone theirs even if it was for their own good.

The bovine fecal matter is about to interact messily with the rotatory oscillator methinks.

 

[zecorezecron]

I thank you for the criticisms. Hope you enjoy.

Click to shrink...

Oh yeah, the latest chapter actually addressed some of the things I mentioned. Hope what I said helps.

 

[Despacitoleo]

People go koo-koo for regular coffee. I've heard stories of more than one death threat for someone denying someone theirs even if it was for their own good.

The bovine fecal matter is about to interact messily with the rotatory oscillator methinks.

Click to shrink...

Oh yeah definitely shirs hitting the fan harder than a step father beating there soulless bastards red headed step child

 

[Tenno]

Negotiations

Click to shrink...

COFFEE! As a man who drinks 5 to 6 cups of instant coffee a day, i would see this as a godsend and will KILL anyone for it!