As we made our way around the square, I heard people talking, almost in stage whispers, like they did not want to be heard, but still... needed to be heard. They were talking about the altercation we had witnessed; apparently, despite the city’s issues, it is actually a very rare occurrence for any of the local sects to do more than posture and threaten, at least within the city limits.

“In restrained contemplation, the sect leaders were at the Foundation stage, at most; Badan Tain appeared no faster than a normal Pinnacle, and yet the hairless man did not have time to react. It was a foolish move to attack, as he did.”

“He was an idiot, who attacked the rightful law keeper of this place without provocation. His execution was just, but I too wonder what he was thinking, as at this level, he stood little chance, even striking as he did.”

“Maybe the city was just too much? Tain is a pretty grating guy, so I kind of get wanting to attack him.”

“In heartfelt agreement, the Marshal is certainly the least diplomatic individual we have met, even more so than many of the people we have actually fought.”

I snorted a laugh, realising that Riffa was right; our enemies were awful people, there was no doubt about that, but at least they were fairly polite.

“Maybe he wasn’t really their leader, just the highest ranking in the group? Seems like a sect should be led by a Pinnacle, right? Otherwise, a sect with a Pinnacle, or just a lone Pinnacle, could show up and just take over.”

“You may have a point... Hunter. I wonder if we can expect retaliation from the sect in question, if that proves to be the case.”

“I hope not, honestly. Tain sliced into that house, so his abilities seem pretty indiscriminate; a battle between him and another Pinnacle would mess this place up.”

The three of us fell into silence for a time as we walked, and I turned my attention mostly inwards to continue my cultivation; the confrontation had driven home the need to be in top form in this place, even more than I had already realised. If chaos broke out, I wanted to be able to get out of there... or try and protect people, if necessary. I recalled my quest, to limit civilian casualties, and I wondered who that included. Had I failed by ‘letting’ the sect member die? Either way, how many civilians were too many? Was it global, local, a specific place? Not for the first time, I sent rude thoughts Xiournal’s way as I wished she could just be a little less obscure with her missions. I had no idea what the actual rules she was under were, other than she was not allowed to give me too much info about the world, but surely a solid idea of the numbers involved was not too much to ask?

With a sigh, I decided to ask about something I had been wondering for a while, if only to distract myself from the frustration of my current quest.

“Guys, what’s with the coloured metals? Red through violet? They seem to get stronger and heavier as they go, but there are all these others; white, and silver and black. What’s the deal?”

Riffa, who was somewhat used to my strange questions raised an eyebrow at my question, but I got a very strange look from Toria; if I kept this up, she was going to be of the same opinion as Darina before too long, and I did not need a second Darina. Still, the look only lasted a moment before the two of them shared a look that said, at least to me, that I was just weird and to move on. After a moment or two, they seemed to reach an understanding as to which was going to answer my weird question and Toria spoke up again.

“The... coloured metals, are alchemically treated, by the Alchemy Association. Red corresponds to mortal levels of strength, meaning they can lift it, though not damage it. Orange corresponds to Focus, Yellow to Core, Green to Path, Blue is Foundation and finally Violet for Pinnacle. The others are simply naturally occurring metals or alloys. They are too numerous to list.”

“Huh, the Alchemy Association treats metals too? As I understand it, materials slowly absorb Experience, growing stronger as they do, or at least... increasing their intrinsic properties? And they can even eventually Ascend, but it takes so much that it doesn’t happen for ages. Somebody once told me that even a planet can Ascend. I wonder what they do to it, whether there’s some way to increase the rate at which things absorb Experience.”

The idea intrigued me, because outside of my Core, my arm had its own independent pool of energy that it used to power its own, private functions. Back on the dead world, it had charged in a week or so, but out here it would take months at the sort of energy pressure our world sat at. If I could increase the rate of absorption, that would be very helpful. I also wondered if I could I could make use of my own pool, now that I thought about it. It was inside me, so why not? For the Lizard People, they only had their designed functions, so there was no need to try to do other things with it, but I had both.

It was a lot of ifs, but, if I could integrate the efficiency designs, and if I could draw on the apparently large-scale reserves of my arm and if I could find a way to refill it faster... I would almost certainly be the strongest Path stage on the planet, and Foundation and Pinnacle, if I made it that far. I found the idea pretty pleasing, though I could not say why at the time; I liked fighting, the contest of it, the... absolution of it. But it was not my goal; I had grown stronger out of necessity, to protect myself, to protect others and to carry out my missions. Being the strongest at my level on the planet would certainly help with those things, but even the result, as an end in itself, was pretty damn pleasing.

“They do; it is one of their basic services. As you have no doubt seen – everywhere – the materials they produce are fairly ubiquitous.”

And of course, I was in possibly the only city in the world that did not have an Alchemist outpost or shop. I wondered my Lucky ability had turned off, because it had certainly seemed to do little for me over the last week or so.

I was pulled from that dreary contemplation as the three of us turned a corner and found ourselves facing what had to be the bazaar. Before us, cloth tents and covered stalls stretched out, too tall to see over, but forming a wide, brightly coloured network of alleys through which people bustled about. I could hear hawkers calling out to people, promising one-time-only offers to everyone that passed. I smiled at the sight, as it reminded me of a night market I had once visited, and at which I had found one of the first editions I had traded for my flight to the Antarctic. The chilly memory of my death dulled the mood somewhat, but even so, the book had brought me a lot of joy over the course of my life, and even the misery of my last few weeks could not quite dull the recollection.

My friends and I headed into the dense shanty-town and I found myself amazed at the quality of the work I saw on display; back on Earth, most of what you found in those kinds of places were crap, with real bargains and treasures scattered lightly amongst them. But in Ouhl’s bazaar, everything seemed to be of the finest make. On one stall covered in a sky-blue sheet, I found plants carved from wood that looks as real as any I had ever seen, almost translucent in places and looking wet with morning dew. On another, this one clad in bright yellow, jars carved from single pieces of stone and crystal that glittered as the sunlight bounces off their perfectly smooth surfaces.

There were stalls for weapons of all kinds, save guns, and in every shape imaginable. I found a sword twice as long as I was tall, and every bit as broad as me. It was forged from a dark, silvery metal but the edge glowed as if on the edge of vaporization, a hot, blinding line that reminded me of thermite. Despite how it looked, however, the weapon did no damage to the cloth, nor did it give off any heat. I asked if I could lift it, and gaining consent hefted the massive thing in my hands; it was surprisingly light, though given my relative strength, that was not much of a shock. But even so, I had expected it to feel more like the blue sword Aella had tried to hand me on our trip to the Blacksand Citadel, more of an impossible weight than what seemed closer to a heavy feather. As I held the weapon, I had images of myself swinging it about in long, deadly arcs and lightning spat from the glowing edge, but with a grin, I set the thing down, knowing that with the addition of my tiny passenger, such a weapon was not practical. I did spend some time trying to push my Praxis into a number of more reasonably sized swords though, looking for one that I could use while compressing time, but none seemed to be as receptive to it as my arm and I supposed it was more the mechanism – the intent perhaps – that allowed such thing.

Reluctantly, I left that part of the bazaar behind, accepting that I would either need something custom made, or I would need to make something myself, using the designs as a base. Or both.

The list of things I had to do kept growing, but it was good to have a purpose, outside of my seemingly endless quests and simply growing stronger. Problems to work away at; hobbies, but with impact.

We did find a stall selling alchemic products, though it took us a couple of hours of wandering the vast maze of stalls. The shop in question was decorated with bright, vivid green cloth that bordered on lime, and behind the counter stood a person covered from head to toe in the fur of various animals. There did not seem to be any sense or order to how they were worn, or what went next to what, and I found it by far the strangest mode of dress I had encountered since my arrival.

“Uh, hi. We’re looking for... sleeping aids?”

“You need help sleeping each other?”

His voice – or at least I thought it was a he – grated, more than half growl, and guttural as if it was all formed in the back of his throat.

“No. Just me, on my own.”

Toria’s voice was pretty forceful, and it took me a moment to realise why; the fur-clad man had insinuated that we were sleeping together. I had not caught the implication right away, as by that point I was so used to different accents that I simply assumed he misspoke, but I could see how somebody less used to dealing with the issue could take offense. While I had encountered a myriad languages and accents, they seemed predominantly limited to people from other worlds originally. Even Darina’s Master, Sonja, was from another world. This of course made me wonder if the seller was from elsewhere, though I had no idea if it was rude or not to actually ask.

“Yes. Yes. You not sleep them. You fine sleep self. I know this.”

I saw the devotee of justice narrow her eyes and quickly spoke up, hoping to head the conflict off before it built up steam.

“Do you have anything to make a person sleep better. As in closing their eyes and sleeping.”

“Yes... this I say. Everyone this place crazy.”

The man reached down with one tightly bundled hand and gestured to a purple bag tied with orange string.

“This sleeps you, for night, guarantee is guaranteed.”

I found myself frowning at the hard-to-understand shopkeep, but I took a breath and looked at the bag he was pointing at. Just in front of the smallish item, was an elaborately decorated piece of paper that set the price at... a thousand spirit coins.

“A thousand coins? Are you insane, you furry asshole?”

“Price is price. No negotiate. Maybe little.”

“It’s fine...Hunter. There seems to be enough for a long stay, it’s worth it to get some sleep.”

“It’s a thousand coins, Toria! Why is everything so expensive here?!”

“With studied calm, the aura makes it difficult to perform delicate work here, and so scarcity drives up prices.”

“It was rhetorical, Riffa.”

Riffa just shrugged at me and I turned back to the man in the mis-matched yeti costume.

“We’ll give you five-hundred.”

“One-thousand.”

“... That’s not how haggling works.”

“... One-thousand.”

“Seven-hundred.”

“I go nine-hundred, but you thief. Literal highwayman.”

“Eight-fifty, I’m not going higher. I’m sure there another, less annoying, shop around here somewhere that sells alchemy stuff.”

“Only chemical shop in Bazaar. Only shop for such thief. Eight-Fifty, is done.”

I glared at the man and started to reach for my storage when Toria stepped in front of me to pay herself; I had honestly forgotten the stuff was even for the apprentice, in the moment, but I accepted it with a shrug. I wanted to be fair to my friends, but if they could pay their way, they could pay their way.

Having paid, Toria snatched up the bag and checked its contents before storing it away quickly and walking away without another word.

Riffa and I hurried to catch up, though I did notice another damned alchemy stall around the first corner; I chose not to say anything about it. I almost turned around to go back and give the rotten liar a piece of my mind – and fist – but given the city’s policy on such things, I thought better of it.

It was probably for the best, as in the distance and above the general din of the bazaar I dimly heard a boom, followed by screaming.