I had a fight tonight.
A grin tugged at my lips as I flicked my ring, checking the notification Alyssa had sent. Arena. Sunset. 500-point wager. Level cap enforced. No name. No details. Just a time and a promise. Typical Alyssa.
I wanted to fight. Needed to fight. The weight of the arena, the rush of real danger—it was the only way I ever felt like I was truly growing. Training sharpened the blade. Combat proved whether it could cut.
But if I was stepping into a match, I needed to be prepared.
I pulled up my status screen, eyes flicking over my available points. I had been holding onto way too many—a wealth of resources just sitting there, waiting to be used. No point hoarding them if I didn’t put them to work.
I was sitting on a goldmine of points. Time to spend them. With enough points, you could buy nearly anything.
This place wasn’t just a school—it was a damn economy. Weapons, armor, enchanted gear, training sessions with instructors whose names carried legends. You could rent sparring time with beasts, buy forbidden system-locked skills, or even purchase temporary buffs that boosted your stats for hours at a time.
But the market didn’t give you power. It sold it—at prices steep enough to drown the weak.
I walked through the labyrinth of stalls and storefronts, the air buzzing with energy as students bartered, haggled, and bled their hard-earned victories into better gear.
Weaponsmiths lined the streets, each promising the sharpest edge, the deadliest enhancements, the most efficient killing tools money could buy. The scent of steel and burning coals mingled with the acrid bite of alchemical reagents as vendors pushed their wares onto eager students.
A blacksmith’s hammer rang like a war drum, shaping raw metal into something lethal. At a nearby alchemy booth, a scaled merchant twisted the stopper off a glowing red vial, letting its fumes coil through the air like living smoke. “Painkiller Elixirs! Cuts recovery time in half! Only 200 points per dose!”
Only 200.
That was a week’s worth of basic training sessions.
I stepped into the weapon stalls first, letting my gaze skim over the countless blades, axes, and spears meticulously displayed on polished wood and deep crimson cloth.
One vendor, a lean man with ink-stained hands, waved me over. “Student, huh? You look like a bladesman.” He gestured toward a selection of daggers, each labeled with script denoting their properties. “Looking for something fast? Something vicious? Or something that ignores armor?”
I picked up a dagger, its hilt worn smooth from use, and inspected the script floating above it.
- Dagger of the Viper | +1 Agility | Coated in a slow-acting venom. 2,500 points.
- Phantom’s Fang | +2 Dexterity | Slightly increases attack speed. 5,600 points.
- Stormpiercer | +1 Strength, +1 Agility | Conducts lightning damage when activated. 12,000 points.
I stared at the prices.
Twelve. Thousand. Points.
For reference? A thousand points was worth a full month of training with an elite instructor.
This dagger cost an entire year’s worth of advanced lessons.
I placed it back on the cloth with deliberate calm and drew Woundreaver from my inventory. The moment the vendor’s eyes landed on it, I saw the flicker of recognition—the brief pause as he reevaluated me.
I already had something better. “How much would you buy this for?”
He reached out, taking the weapon with a surprisingly delicate touch, as if afraid it might bite. Summoning a magnifying glass infused with appraisal magic, he inspected the blade under its enchanted lens.
Then he shrieked and nearly dropped it.
His wide eyes snapped to mine, mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. “How the hell did you get this!?”
I raised a brow, amused at his reaction.
“This is—this is high-tier gear.” He turned it over in his hands again, voice lowering as if someone might overhear. “I—I can’t afford to buy this from you. Hell, no one in this market can. If you’re looking to sell, you’ll need to go see Evontis.”
He gestured toward a massive tent looming over the marketplace, its entrance crowded with people, some standing in tight clusters, others practically pleading their cases to attendants at the front.
So Evontis was the real deal. A real vendor.
I chuckled, scratching the back of my forearm where the dull ache of my skill still lingered. “Let’s just say I earned it through a lot of pain and suffering. Wouldn’t recommend the method.”
Sliding Woundreaver back into my inventory, I gave the vendor a nod. “Thanks for the information.”
With a final wave, I turned toward the enormous tent.
The walk to Evontis’ domain was deceptively long. The sheer scale of the tent made it seem closer than it was, like staring up at a mountain that appeared within reach but took far longer to ascend. As I moved closer, its true immensity became apparent. It wasn’t just large—it was unnatural, its dimensions shifting in a way that didn’t quite make sense.
Spatial manipulation.
The entire place must have been magically enhanced, its interior likely stretching far beyond what the outside suggested. The kind of trick that only the best merchants could afford.
If there was anyone here who could offer me real upgrades, it was inside that tent. And I intended to see just how much Woundreaver was really worth. The system had classified it as B- grade, but that last vendor had nearly lost his mind over it. That reaction alone sparked my curiosity.
I wasn’t actually looking to sell it. Not yet. But maybe—just maybe—I could use my skills on some lesser projects, flipping weapons into high-value sales and raking in points faster.
By the time I finally made it to the front of the tent, I found myself standing before a glowing blue threshold—an entry barrier, humming with a faint pulse of energy. A security measure.
Then came the guards.
One was human, broad-shouldered, wearing a sleek, form-fitting combat suit that screamed expensive enchantments. The other was an orc, built like a walking fortress, his thick arms crossed over his chest, scars crisscrossing green skin like war medals.
The kind of men who could break me in half by accident. Good. That meant I was in the right place.
The human stepped forward first, raising a small orb of blue flame in his palm. The way it hovered, flickering unnaturally, told me it was more than just fire.
“Step forward, sir.” His voice was crisp, professional. “If you have items to sell, please remove them from your inventory and hand them to my partner.”
I didn’t argue. I pulled Woundreaver from my inventory and passed it to the orc, watching as he gripped it like a craftsman handling fine work.
Then, as I stepped toward the human, he pressed the burning orb into my chest. Immediately, something snapped inside me.
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A shift—no, a restriction. I felt my inventory seal shut, my skills dulling like they’d been submerged underwater. My connection to them was still there, but it was just out of reach, like a limb that had fallen asleep.
Instinct flared. My muscles tensed. I took a sharp breath, adrenaline kicking in before I forced myself still. I leveled my gaze at the human. “What the hell did you just do to me?”
The guard didn’t even flinch. “Standard security measure,” he replied smoothly. “Can’t have people walking in with unrestricted access to their inventories and skills.”
He tilted his head toward the faintly glowing barrier behind me—the same one I had knowingly stepped through just moments ago. “As soon as you leave the restricted zone, your access will be fully restored.”
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to relax. Clever. Annoying, but clever. This wasn’t just a market—it was a high-value trade hub. Inside, there would be weapons, armor, artifacts, things worth more than most people’s lives. And they weren’t about to let just anyone walk in with free reign to start fights or snatch up loot.
The orc handed Woundreaver back to me—but now, it was sealed. Suspended inside a clear, liquid-filled bubble, almost like it was trapped in a slow-moving droplet of water.
“Enjoy your visit,” the orc rumbled, his voice a deep, gravelly sound that felt like it could shake the ground.
I took the weapon, flexing my fingers around the slick surface of the containment bubble. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt dense, almost as if the liquid itself was enchanted to suppress the weapon’s full potential.
As I stepped inside, I was immediately struck by the sheer scale of the marketplace.
Portals. Hundreds of them.
They lined the interior, suspended in midair or anchored into the walls, glowing in different shades of blue, green, and violet. Above each one, floating signs shimmered in shifting script, labeling their destinations.
- Weapons & Arms – General
- Weapons & Arms – Enchanted & Cursed
- Custom Orders & Smithing Requests
- Armor – Standard Issue
- Armor – Adaptive & Specialized
- Artifacts – Classified Access Only
- Salvage & Repairs – Reforging Services
- Alchemy & Augmentations
- Defensive Clothing for Humanoid Figures
- Auction Hall – Private Bidding
Some portals were massive, easily large enough for entire groups to pass through at once. Others were narrow and tightly controlled, their edges laced with intricate glyphs—probably restricted areas for high-value transactions.
The crowd was just as overwhelming. Warriors, merchants, scholars, and adventurers milled about, scanning the portals, talking in hushed tones, or outright bartering in small clusters. Despite the sheer number of people, movement was seamless.
I quickly realized why.
Whenever someone focused on a sign, the text magnified in their vision, sharpening into clear legibility before fading back to its normal state. No need to push through a crowd just to read—everything adjusted to your gaze. Handy.
Before I could pick a direction, the guy next to me muttered, “Armor for goblins.” And then he was gone. The portal pulled him in instantly, like the world had yanked him forward without hesitation.
No stepping through. No walking. Just intent. That was useful. Efficient. I took a few extra moments to scan my options, making sure I wasn’t about to make a reckless purchase. Evontis might have the best deals, but that also meant they had the best rip-offs.
Finally, I exhaled and said, “Defensive Clothing for Humanoid Figures.” The world lurched, and I was gone.
When I appeared, it took me a second to adjust.
The space was vast—silent except for the faint hum of energy running through the beams of pure light that filled the room. Each one held an item suspended in midair, slowly rotating as though displayed on an invisible pedestal. They weren’t blinding, but the glow gave everything a surreal, almost reverent atmosphere. Beneath each item, holographic displays flickered, detailing the specs, attributes, and cost.
I walked to the nearest one and inspected it.
- Type: Lightweight Defensive Garment
- Properties: Resistant to slashes and punctures, dampens kinetic force
- Bonus: Slightly reduces magical interference
- Price: 100 Points
Simple. Practical. The price was actually shockingly affordable at only 100 points. It wasn’t enchanted, nor did it offer attribute boosts, but the passive ability to dampen force was solid—especially for someone like me who was constantly getting thrown into lethal situations.
But I wasn’t here for the basics.
I scanned the area, noting where the largest crowd had gathered. If there was one thing I had learned in places like this, it was that people instinctively swarmed value. If something had drawn this much attention, it was worth investigating.
Curious, I made my way toward the cluster of figures.
The closer I got, the more I realized the dominant presence in the group—vampires. At least half the gathered individuals had that signature pale, predatory sharpness. Some were murmuring in hushed voices, while others simply stared at the display, hunger lurking in their eyes.
I pushed my way between them—not aggressively, but with deliberate movement, making it clear that I wasn’t going to be intimidated out of a look.
And then I saw what they were after.
A pair of blood-red shoulder guards, sleek yet sinister, their surface etched with vein-like patterns that pulsed faintly as if something within them was alive.
I shifted my gaze down to the holographic description, my interest sharpening.
- Type: Adaptive Shoulder Guards
- Material: Blood-Forged Alloy, Living Essence Weave
- Properties:
- Hemokinetic Reinforcement: Strengthens when exposed to fresh blood, hardening its structure and increasing resistance to physical attacks.
- Vampiric Synergy: If worn by a vampire or blood magic practitioner, it passively absorbs excess blood in the environment to sustain minor injuries.
- Pulse Reaction: The mantle can shift slightly to adjust impact angles, redirecting glancing blows to reduce direct trauma.
- Durability: 92% (Self-repairing under the right conditions)
- Weight: Light
- Bonus Effects:
- +10 Endurance when activated (stacks up to 3 times per day). Each activation requires a new source of blood.
- +25 Strength when soaked in combat blood.
- Passive Blood Flow Regulation (prevents clotting issues for organic wearers)
- Price: 4,500 Points
Crafted in the deep forges of the Ebon Crucible, the Sanguine Mantle was originally designed for blood warriors and vampiric knights, offering not just protection but a combat-enhancing effect fueled by the carnage of battle. The alloy itself reacts to fresh blood, forming a denser, more resilient structure in response to injury. The living weave embedded within it subtly alters impact trajectories, ensuring that blows slide off rather than strike head-on.
For vampires or blood-based warriors, this armor acts as a lifeline, pulling from excess blood in the air or on the battlefield to knit minor wounds closed. Even for non-vampires, the item provides an impressive level of survivability through its enhanced endurance and reactive durability.
- The mantle becomes sluggish in areas devoid of blood, reducing its effectiveness.
- Prolonged exposure to arcane purification magic weakens its passive effects.
- Excessive use of hemokinetic reinforcement can lead to temporary stiffness in the wearer's movements.
The Sanguine Mantle was practically needed amongst duelists, warriors, and vampires, and the crowd gathering around it made that obvious.
I let out a low whistle. +55 attribute points, solid defensive protection, and built-in regenerative healing—it was no surprise this item had drawn a mob of eager buyers. For most fighters, this was an absolute game-changer. But for me? Not so much. The extra points were tempting, but I didn’t need healing. I had my own ways of recovering. I could find something better, something that fit my style.
I turned to leave just as the Sanguine Mantle's crimson glow flickered—then vanished into a pure black void.
The reaction was immediate. A frustrated snarl tore through the gathered fighters, followed by a chorus of curses and muttered complaints. Someone had just finalized their purchase before the rest of them could react.
A few of the more aggressive vampires in the crowd sneered, their expressions dark. I caught one of them scanning the faces around him, probably trying to figure out who snatched it first. This place really was a battleground, even outside of the arena.
I moved on, keeping a keen eye on the rest of the displays. Plenty of items caught my attention—pieces of enchanted armor, weapons humming with energy, accessories promising all sorts of enhancements. But none of them were worth buying right now.
This was a scouting trip.
I wasn’t here to waste points. I was here to learn the economy, to get a feel for what was available, and to store information for later. A bad purchase would set me back hundreds or even thousands of points, and that wasn’t a mistake I intended to make.
When I’d seen enough, I exhaled, letting the sensory overload fade.
"Back."
The world twisted. The light beams vanished. And in the blink of an eye, I was back at the main hub, surrounded once again by the towering portals.
This time, I didn’t hesitate. My eyes locked onto a single, unassuming sign—
"Evontis."
I spoke the name.
And the portal pulled me forward once more.