The success of the Mana Spot Exchange spread through the frontier like wildfire. Adventurers talked about it around campfires. Merchants wrote letters to distant cities. Even the Royal Mana Bureau received updated reports about steady prices in the west. But not everyone welcomed the change. Far to the south in a white stone cathedral the High Priest of the Radiant Faith read the same reports and frowned.

To the church mana was divine essence gifted by the gods. It was not meant to be traded like grain or iron. Selling mana was already frowned upon. Standardizing prices and creating a market was considered a direct challenge to the church’s authority. The High Priest whispered a command. Send an Inquisitor to Dustfall. We must see who dares disturb the sacred order.

Several days later a tall man in white robes and steel boots arrived at the edge of Dustfall. His presence caused immediate tension. The Inquisitor walked with calm steps but left heavy pressure in his wake. Villagers lowered their eyes. Adventurers moved aside. Even Ressa’s team felt uneasy.

Alan was updating the hourly price board when the Inquisitor entered the exchange building. The room fell silent. The man placed his metal staff on the ground. I am Inquisitor Maros of the Radiant Faith. I seek the one who created this market. Alan did not flinch. I am Alan Grove.

Maros studied him with cold calm eyes. You are young. Too young to disrupt the natural order. Alan kept his voice steady. I organized trade to help adventurers survive. To create fairness. Maros replied. Mana is not yours to manage. It is the breath of the divine. To classify it and price it like livestock is sin.

The crowd felt a wave of fear. Alan felt none. He had expected this confrontation. He explained slowly. People risk their lives to gather mana. They deserve stable prices. They deserve to survive. The church can still use mana for rituals. But trade must be fair.

Maros stepped closer. Fairness is not your concern. What matters is obedience to the divine order. This exchange encourages greed. It encourages people to chase mana as if it were nothing more than coin. Alan did not step back. He held the Inquisitor’s gaze. People have always chased mana. My exchange simply keeps them alive while doing it.

Murmurs filled the room. Some adventurers nodded subtly. Others looked terrified. Maros turned away from Alan to address the crowd. The church warns you. Trading mana in such volume and with such reckless openness invites divine punishment. If this exchange continues Dustfall may lose the gods’ blessing.

Ressa muttered under her breath. What blessing. This place was dying until Alan saved it. Maros heard her but ignored the comment. His eyes returned to Alan. Shut this place down. Today. Replace it with a donation system overseen by the church. Then peace will return.

Alan felt the entire room waiting for his decision. He took a slow breath. I cannot shut it down. Too many people rely on it now. Too many lives improved because of it. If the church wishes to observe the exchange you may. But we will not end it.

Maros raised his staff. A faint glow gathered at its tip. Some villagers gasped. But Alan did not move. Maros said quietly. You misunderstand boy. This is not a negotiation. This is divine authority.

Before he could act a deep voice echoed through the exchange. Enough. Old Rae the village elder stepped forward. He held a weathered cane and a steady gaze. Dustfall stands behind the exchange. We will not abandon it because of fear. The Inquisitor looked annoyed. You risk angering the divine.

Old Rae shook his head. We risk nothing. The gods help those who help themselves. And this boy helped us survive. If the gods wish to punish us they can come speak to us directly.

The room erupted in whispers. Maros lowered his staff but his expression hardened. Very well. If Dustfall rejects guidance the church will monitor this place. And if we see corruption or greed you will answer to us. All of you. He pointed at Alan last. Especially you.

The Inquisitor stormed out leaving a heavy silence. When he disappeared down the road people finally exhaled. Ressa walked to Alan. You handled that well. Alan managed a weak smile. That was not handling it. That was delaying it. The church will not forget this.

He returned to his notebook. He wrote one line. Regulation is coming. Not through trade but through force. Prepare.

Over the next days Dustfall felt different. Adventurers still traded but looked over their shoulders. Merchants whispered about the church sending more men. Some villagers prayed every night out of fear. Others stood proudly knowing they defended their home.

Alan spent long nights studying patterns. Not only prices but politics. The church did not understand markets but they understood influence. They did not need to destroy Dustfall. They only needed to scare people away. Alan realized he must make the exchange stronger than fear.

He expanded the water tests. He trained villagers as clerks. He improved the ban system. He proposed a new rule. Every transaction must be recorded by two clerks instead of one to prevent mistakes or accusations of cheating. People accepted the rule gladly. Trust grew stronger.

On the fifth evening after the Inquisitor’s visit Alan stood inside the exchange building alone. The lanterns flickered. The chalkboard held the final prices of the day. Alan placed his hand on the smooth wooden table and whispered. The church may try to stop this but they cannot stop people from wanting fairness. They cannot stop information.

Outside the wind carried faint sparks of mana drifting through the air. The world was changing. And Dustfall had become the center of that change. But Alan knew something else as well. If the church objected and the kingdom watched then the next threat would not come quietly.

It would come from the shadows.

And it was on its way.