Alan Grove grew up in Dustfall a small village at the edge of the western frontier. The village looked like any forgotten corner of the kingdom. Houses built with cracked stone. A single well at the center. A crooked wooden sign pointing toward the main road. Most travelers passed by without stopping because the place had little mana and little value. For most people low mana meant poor crops weak spells and no chance at joining major guilds. For Alan it meant something different. It meant a chance to understand how people behaved when resources were scarce.

He spent his early years sitting near the only trading stall in the village watching adventurers arrive with small bags of low grade beast cores. He listened to them argue over prices. He noticed how they blamed the village for being poor rather than asking why merchants paid so little. Alan observed every detail. When adventurers were tired they sold their goods for less. When storms delayed caravans merchants raised their buying price. None of this involved magic. It involved people.

Alan had almost no magic talent. He could light a weak glow between his fingers but nothing more. The village kids mocked him by calling him dim spark while adults whispered that he would never join a mage school. Alan ignored them. He had something else. He had clarity. He watched how resources moved how frustration changed decisions and how desperation created opportunity.

One afternoon a group of low rank adventurers staggered into the village carrying a few cracked beast cores. The merchant offered them a very low price. The leader started to argue. Alan stepped closer and asked if he could examine the cores. The adventurers laughed at him but handed them over. Alan weighed them in his hands and looked closely at the cracks. He had seen many others like this. The cracks meant that mana density inside the core leaked over time which lowered its value. The merchant always bought them cheap. But Alan also knew that in another town two days east there was a leatherworker who bought cracked cores for enchantment practice because he did not care about purity.

Alan spoke softly. If you go east you will get double the price. The adventurers froze. The merchant glared. The leader asked how he knew. Alan repeated the facts. He told them the leatherworker’s name and the average price he paid. The adventurers left without selling. At first the merchant was furious but two weeks later he returned to thank Alan because more adventurers now came to Dustfall hoping to find better information and fairer trading.

This small moment changed Alan’s life. He realized clarity and observation could move people more effectively than spells. He began recording every detail he saw. How many adventurers arrived each week. What monsters they fought. Which cores were in season. Which traveling shops stopped by. He listed everything on a worn notebook that he guarded carefully. It was his spellbook his grimoire his way of reading the unseen forces of the world.

One evening while sitting under the fading torchlight he made a discovery. He realized that mana cores had no fixed value. They fluctuated like the tides. Cores became expensive before large festivals when mages performed ceremonies. They became cheap during harvest season because adventurers hunted more beasts for extra income. Alan had never heard anyone mention these patterns. It seemed obvious to him. But obvious did not mean understood.

The next morning he made a bold decision. He stood near the village well and announced that he wanted to create a price board. A wooden sign that showed the daily average buying prices for each type of core based on what he had seen and calculated. The villagers laughed. But some adventurers listened. They liked the idea of fairness. They liked the idea of knowing what to expect.

Alan carved the first board by hand. The numbers were simple but the concept was powerful. The merchant reluctantly agreed to try using it for a week. When adventurers saw that Dustfall had consistent prices they began arriving more often. They trusted a place that did not change its buying price based on the merchant’s mood or the weather. Alan stood by the board each day ready to update the numbers based on new information.

He noticed something else. When demand was stable adventurers rushed toward the most profitable monsters. This created overcrowding in certain areas and long term shortages. Alan drew a line in his notebook. If core prices depended on supply and demand then he could predict which regions would become dangerous and which would become valuable. It was a simple thought yet it felt like uncovering a hidden law of the world.

Late one night he looked at the board again. He whispered to himself. Mana should have a standard price. A fair price. A price trusted by all adventurers merchants and guilds. He did not know it yet but this thought would one day reshape the entire continent.

When he closed his notebook he felt the first spark not of magic but of purpose. For the first time he understood what he wanted to build. Not a spell. Not a weapon. But a system. A place where mana could be measured traded and valued. A place where people could make decisions based on knowledge rather than fear. A place that might even lift Dustfall out of its poverty.

That night the dusty quiet village felt a little bigger. Alan Grove felt a little stronger. And somewhere in the sky as the stars drifted above the frontier a future guildmaster took his first step.