God of Zero Cost

Ethan adjusted his stride as he stepped out of the unpaved back streets of Megiddo’s lower foundry sector. The high-tier corporate players from Merlion Guild and Orchard Apex were still hyper-focused on the main trade avenues, tracking the military event boards.

None of them paid attention to the soot-choked alleys where Ethan went in his disguise.

He had already cleared his pack of the loot and scraps. Navigating the shadows, Ethan had methodically distributed his haul across four separate independent Canaanite furnace-masters. But he deliberately avoided the shops he used previously.

The only items he didn't know what to do with were Bera's Cylinder and Bera's Circlet. The grey iron-oxide seal wasn't worth much in raw material, and it might be a quest item in the future. He had considered putting the crooked jewelled headgear up for auction. But the stats weren't anything to shout about, he was also a far way north of Sodom.

Ethan crossed the granaries as he made his way to the temple. The stock was no better than when he left, and the tariffs were still high. Perhaps even higher than before, if that was possible. Soldiers also need to eat.

At the basalt steps of the temple courtyard, the local priests were loudly chanting a royal decree freshly dispatched from the northern capital of Hazor. The grand tablet bore the high seal of the King Jabin. The decree ordered regional territories to supply grain and oil to support a punitive expedition. The priests talk about a low-tier, weaponless, fanatics and mountain herders holed up on the cliffs of Mount Tabor.

Ethan moved on and about the city before any of the priest could get suspicious. Down at the city gates, Ethan watched the movement of grains and supplies as he walked through silently. Through the din of the market, Ethan overheard the rumors passed between the city elders. The campaign was led by ruthless general from the northwest region of Harosheth Haggoyim.

So that's where the northern iron chariots came from, Ethan realised. The bronze shortage and the war campaign was pushing the military to move towards the Iron Age.

He stepped away from the crowded gatehouse, slipping into a quiet recess beneath the shadow of the inner limestone wall.

Ethan pulled down his status screen. Ethan stared at the interface, his fingers hovering over the glass-like projection.

Ethan froze, his hand hovering over the flickering projection as the crimson warning text bled across his status screen.

Progression locked.

The war in the background suddenly felt irrelevance. Ethan had something else to worry about than Canaanite iron chariots—his character had just hit a brick wall.