Spirit Tree (1)
I moved lodgings right away. To the biggest one nearby. The facilities suited me just fine. A small but elegant elevator, marble floors, and the food they served was pretty damn good too.
'Whether it's the real world or a game, money's what matters.'
Money rules everywhere, it seems. Anyway, I spent the day kicking back at the inn. Plenty of work ahead, but rest is key too. Fatigue had piled up something fierce. That day, I crashed hard, sleeping like the dead without a single thought.
The next day rolled around, and I hit the streets. First order of business: swapping out gear. Especially that dagger I'd been using since I got here.
'Time to check out a new spot.'
Not the usual shopping district. I headed somewhere else. Narrow alleys lined with shops. Scanning with Weapon Detection, I saw more glows than before. Probably thanks to clearing that merchant guild quest.
Ding-a-ling!
I picked a shop leaking multiple lights. Stepping inside, a warm-faced owner greeted me with a bright smile.
"Hm? Aren't you the one who helped us out recently?"
He recognized me the moment I entered. Must've seen me before the quest.
"Aigoo! That's you! Haha! Thanks to you, the goods are in solid shape. Looking for anything specific?"
"Daggers and shortswords."
"Just a sec, a quick sec! Hehe."
Rubbing his hands eagerly, he pulled out a few advanced-grade weapons.
"Thanks to you, shipments are starting to flow normally, but sorting's still a mess. Hehe, these should serve you well enough!"
Unlike that shopkeep who'd treated me like a sucker before, this guy brought real quality. Advanced grade—second-tier stuff. A huge upgrade over my current gear.
'Daggers need attack speed focus.'
I'd learned a bit about being a Weapon Summoner. Each weapon has traits, and you play to them. Daggers prioritize speed over power. Perfect for throwing, and speed's key to landing them fast.
"I'll take three of these."
I swapped all my daggers. Each with attack speed boosts and +3 Agility.
Next, other weapons.
'Need something for close-range pests.'
Daggers are fast for offense, but defense? Stretching it. So I eyed alternatives. Long-reach spear? Halberd for reach and power? Or a balanced one-handed sword?
I browsed the shop's stock slowly. Nothing caught my eye.
Then.
'Two-handed sword?'
A hefty beast. Solid reach, thick blade. For defense, slow swing's no issue.
Decision made.
"Two of these."
"Two-handers? They're heavy—sure about that?"
He looked worried. Fair enough. Normals struggle with one.
But not me.
"Fine by me."
"Alrighty then."
Two two-handed swords: +3 Strength, increased slashing power. Attack way up.
"Let's see... about 2.4 million babel. Nah, can't take it all—call it 2 million flat. Hehe."
Fair price. And he knocked off 400k. Could snag another piece, but no. Big expenses ahead.
'Strength and Agility shot up nice.'
The daggers' 10% attack speed perks stacked. Even slow axes or two-handers would swing faster now.
The Owned Effects list was filling up.
'This is straight-up broken.'
Feeling the perks build. When it's all legendaries? Massive shift. No wonder they call Damian busted.
* * *
Acquiring Soul of the Dead eased my mana woes somewhat. Still issues to tackle, but skill uptime's way up.
Doesn't fix everything. Damian's chronic mana backlash lingers.
"Hm."
Plus, post-warehouse sniper fight, this chest tightness won't quit. Definitely mana-related.
'Grab meds first.'
Apothecary pinned at city square subway station. But no dice. Entrance stairs blocked off.
"Monster sightings—area's restricted. Move along."
Silver uniform, longsword at hip. Golden hair to his waist. Exuded nobility. Divine Guard securing Brockton.
'Descartes' doing.'
Not obvious, but his scheme. Story-wise, it'll blow up soon.
'That's why the map reroutes.'
Angela knew it was off-limits. Map pointed to a side entrance. I headed there.
-Screeech!
Alley rats scattered from trash bins. Few people meant trouble.
'Here.'
Tiny door in the wall. Hidden spot—even in-game, I never found it. Opened to trackside path. Lamplight guided to another door. Apothecary inside.
Knock knock.
A peephole slid open—eyes only.
"Who the hell?"
Gruff old voice.
"Here for meds."
"Meds? Hm."
Clank! Thud!
Door swung. White-haired geezer. Wrinkled, skinny. Crisp white shirt, vest. Sharp upward gaze. Picky type.
"Eyes bloodshot—you a junkie?"
"No. Want an elixir made."
"Bull. Red-eyed punks like you? All junkies."
What a character. Stubborn as hell.
"Mana-related effects."
"Mana? Not hallucinations? Not a junkie then. Come in!"
Followed him down a tight hall. White lamps glowed, potion stink assaulted my nose.
"Hate junkies most. Elixirs ain't toys—for quick highs? Tsk tsk."
Arms crossed, he grumbled ahead.
"So, junkie-eyes. What exactly? Mana boost? Conservation? Recovery amp?"
Listed effects like a menu, calling me junkie-eyes.
"Ten mana recovery ones."
Short and sweet. No chit-chat.
"Three doses per vial, five-hour duration. Mana regens faster than usual."
He matched my vibe, quick pitch.
"How much?"
"500k babel each."
5 million total. Game rates. Merchant quest paid off—else I'd be broke.
'Not buying in bulk.'
Minus gear costs, 7 million left. This eats half.
'Basic ones. Custom'll cost more.'
These are entry-level. Mine? Multi-effect, heroic-grade. Pricey.
But commission now—takes time.
"Take custom orders?"
"Custom? What for?"
"Mana recovery, conservation, pool expansion. Plus extras."
"......"
Eyes widened, he glared silently.
"Mocking me?"
"No."
"Ever price that out?"
"Steep, yeah."
"Minimum 30 million!"
His bellow filled the workshop. Pricey means profit for him, right? Or thinks I'm pranking.
Poke poke.
Something nudged my thigh. Looked down: brown-haired kid, big eyes staring up.
When'd she get here?
"Grandpa, no materials."
"Huh?"
"No stuff for mister's request."
"What're you yapping?!"
Face red, he yelled. Ah, not baseless rage. But why snap at me? Pride stung?
Getting his number.
'Might leverage this.'
I lack cash, crafting skill. He lacks mats. I can hunt 'em. He crafts. Cheaper deal possible.
"Kid true?"
"......"
No answer—pride.
Out of stock, confirmed.
"What's missing?"
"Mana herbs. Mana herbs. Suppliers cut us off. Some issue."
She whispered loud. Eight-ish, sharp kid. On my side.
"Damn fools. No mining spots left? Ridiculous."
No denial from him, just mutter.
Zing.
Pain hit again. Breath short, ragged gasps.
"Hoo......"
"Mister okay?"
"Fine. Just chest tightness."
Forced a smile. Her face crumpled—I hate seeing kids hurt.
Geezer, watching close, spoke low.
"Hey, junkie-eyes. You'll die like that."
His look grim. Knows this symptom.
"Mana poisoning."
"Mana poisoning......"
I knew it. Overuse debuff. In-game, mana use drained health.
'Symptoms match. Didn't feel the breathlessness in-game, though.'
Game pain? Overlooked. Reality hits different. He clued me in.
"Early stage from the look. Listen, junkie-eyes—ignore it, you're done."
Spot on. Game debuff nibbled HP early, ravaged later. Real life? Death.
"Your custom elixir might help some. But don't expect a cure."
I'd figured partial relief max.
No need to spell it out.
"Depends on herb quality, though. Varieties galore. Ahem!"
Caught my gloom? Awkward comfort. My planned herb—rare mana grass—should fix it.
"What if I supply good mana herbs?"
"You? What kind?"
"Rare-grade or better."
"......Rare or higher?"
Eyes bugged. Rares fetch top coin. Irresistible for a crafter—boosts rep.
"Ahem. Well... could comp it, depending. If I get some mats......"
"Deal. Back soon."
I waved to the kid, left the workshop. Backlash worse than thought. Time to hunt mana herbs fast.