If you decided to take a walk across Crumbrock’s lower district, you had a good chance of walking into a cocky looking, mean, ‘brute’. He was a mercenary, occupying a better part of the street with his presence, as he walked down the alley. Mean, loud, armored. Dangerous.

This man, surprisingly, was me. And I was carrying more money than I have seen in my entire life. Something that could basically allow me to live my whole life carefree back in the village, without having to work a day. Ah, and still have enough left over to leave quite a bit to my kids as inheritance too. Over eight thousand, all earned at the casino.

Now, overwhelmed with the amount of money I had, I saw a thug and bandit behind every corner, hence, I decided to ‘scare them off’. How? By acting like - pardon my words - one mean piece of crap.

“WHACHU’ LOOKIN’ AT?!”

I yelled at some fat, two meters tall, ‘brute’ who was standing by some vendor shop while throwing curious glances in my direction.His eyes squinted up, hearing my offense, he nearly stepped out, but his eyes landed on the sword by my side, and he quickly backed off.

Phew.

One trouble avoided, ninety nine remain.

The weight of my pouch was greatly weighing on my sense of security… If get rid of this money…

… in that moment I walked past a shop with a large sword and shield signage out front. Peering through the glass you could see all manner of weapons and equipment that any adventurer would need on their journey.

Of course!

I stopped, turned around, and walked into the store.

What’s the better way of getting rid of money, if not using it up?! Lions did give me armor and my weapon, yes, but as much as armor did serve its purpose well, the blade… was, well, plain. Great quality, yes. But plain nonetheless. Finding something much more ‘sophisticated’ wasn’t a hard task, even for a middle-rank adventurer.

As soon as I put my foot in the shop, the shopkeeper, who until now was busy restocking some potion vials on the shelf, quickly snapped his gaze to me. Immediately, his steps echoed across the wooden floor, as he moved in my direction at a steady pace.

“Welcome to Prospero's Wondrous Goods. How can I be of service?”

He said that in a tone so ‘dead’ that I nearly whipped out my sword as I almost mistook him for a zombie. Completely lacking any motivation, his gaze nearly begging me to leave.

“I… assume you are Mister Prospero?” I tried to strike a conversation. Shopkeepers love when you ask a question about their shop… right? “No. He was my grandfather. Vanishing from my grandma and father's life on an adventure, then coming back just to toss lots of magical junk at them, as if it was meant to fix all the years of neglect. We hate the bastard and our greatest wish is to want all the artifacts he brought gone. Now, you buying anything?”

…right.

“Y-yes. I would love to.” I said, feeling a bit as if I was wasting this good man’s time. “Hmph” He groaned as if this was an answer he was afraid of “...what are you looking for.” “Some better swords, trinkets, and possibly books if you have any. I have… problems sleeping at night you see. I like to use that time to…” “I don't care what you look at in the night.”

I was quickly cut off. If I had actual cheeks, they would burn from anger and embarrassment.

“Hmmm swoooords…”

He groaned, bringing up a large book from beneath the counter and starting to flip through its pages - most likely his stock catalog.

He read,

And read.

And read some more.

And when I thought he was done he groaned and read some more.

Then he suddenly shut the book, groaning again, and went to the front door and locked it.

“I will just bring you to the storage room, and you will tell me if you like anything. Reading through this tome is too much of hassle for someone of my age.”

Again, I felt as if all this man's problems were caused by me. Still, I did follow him into the backroom.

The storage room was huge. Humongous. With dozens of crates, barrels, shelves and racks. Some items had runic labels with warding seals over them, together with ‘Cursed! Do not touch!’ added on to it.

I was brought into the side of the room, with all sorts of slashing, stabbing, and crushing weaponry.

“Just tell me if something catches your attention”

Shopkeeper said, sitting on the barrel in the corner of the section, watching me with wary eyes, as I started going through his merchandise.

[Tax Blade] [Sword with ten ‘coin slots’. Out of battle, you can put a coin into a slot. During battle, you can choose to consume coin(s) to grant your next attack an additional effect. Effect strength varies based on the number of coin(s) consumed.] [All attacks with this blade are considered as ‘magical’] [Elemental Blade] [Each attack with this blade deals additional elemental/magic damage. This blade can switch between four elements - Wind, Water, Fire and Earth. After using the same elemental attack on a target three times, additional effects might be applied, including - Reduced Dodge Chance, Freeze, Burn, and Armor Break] [Prank-Blade of the Jester]

[This blade has an increased chance of ignoring enemy armor. Each Attack has 33% chance of applying random effect onto your enemy, including, but not limited to - Strengthen, Weaken, Exhaust, Second Wind, Poison, Heal, Polymorph-Squirrel, Polymorph-Giant]

[Silver Tongue] [Blade made of blessed silver. All attacks to Evil or Chaotic alignment beings cause triple damage. Bonus damage to Nocturnal beings. Bonus damage to Undead. Damage can be stacked - peak damage is dealt to Undead Evil Nocturnal creature (Ex. Undead Cruel Werewolf)]

UNDEAD CRUEL WHAT!?

I nearly dropped the blade, not because it ‘burned me’. I may be undead but I wasn’t evil or nocturnal, at most the blade gave me a tingling feeling. To put it simply it was because of what I read. I didn’t want to even think of such creatures walking this land! Let alone having to face them!

The shopkeeper's eyes squinted on me, causing a different kind of undead chill to radiate through me.

“Don’t damage merchandise, or I will make you pay extra.” “Y-Yes Sir… S-sorry for that”

I quickly apologized, turning back to the weapons. Then, my eyes moved to a rather old-styled weapon.

[The Blade of the Undead Lord] [Sword that once belong to a high-tier undead]

[Dead Edge]:

[User of [Alive-Common] race will suffer 1 necrotic damage each time he strikes with the blade]

[User of [Undead] race regenerates 1 Health Point each time he strike the target]

[Every strike of this blade deals bonus necrotic damage onto [Alive] targets] [Death Ruler - [Dark Arts - Necromancy] skills are executed and maintained with +5 level skill bonus, as long as [User] is in possession of blade]

[[Dark Arts] cost 10% less]

I gulped. Or, wanted to gulp. Lack of throat and all. The blade that was basically healing me each time I landed a blow? With my high ‘Vitality’ and great armors, provided by the Lions, I could prolong any battle. And prolonged, exhaustive battle is where the power of an Undead truly shines.

“How much for this one?”

I asked, picking up the ominous looking blade.

… it didn’t want to leave my hand. it seemingly glued itself to my palm.

Clerk squinted his eyes… That's at least the third or fourth time he’s done that…

“For you? Three thousand”

A LOT!

My jaw nearly fell down on the floor. Unfortunately, not just proverbially. There was no flesh to keep it in place.

I was about to start a small quarrel, then, reminded myself of Captain Ghost's words - ‘don’t haggle too much’.

Gritting my teeth, making my bones rattle slightly, with noise - thankfully - being muffled by the illusion, I nodded.

“Fine.”

I measured three thousand coins and passed it to him in a smaller bag.

His eyes bulged out. Apparently, he didn’t suspect I had this much on myself. The man quickly jumped off of his barrel, certainly not looking as old as I had thought up till now.

“Naturally, kind customer. Ah, would you perhaps like some tea as you are browsing through the rest of my wares?”

The old man’s eyes suddenly gleamed as he came closer to me.

…

W-What?

Where did the previous shopkeeper go? Was he just replaced by his ‘evil twin’? Or, in this case ‘good twin’? What could be the reason for such a change?! - I kept pondering this while still holding a bag with nearly twice as much money as I just passed to the grumpy vendor.

“U-uh, no. Thank you. No need… I am still looking for some trinkets and books… “Certainly, certainly. Please follow me, kind customer.”

He nearly bowed 90 degrees, showing me the way to different sections of the store with his hand.

I slowly made my way through his merchandise, with the shopkeeper not leaving me alone for even five seconds. All in all, I didn't find any ‘trinkets’. I did get my hand on several healing potions though. Couple books about the nature of warfare, history, myth and legends, a ‘signed copy’ of Iron-Maiden Slayer, and one more book clad in black leather.

[Dark Arts Compendium - This book contains information regarding the dark arts, as well as a few spells. Reading through the book grants [Skill Experience] of [Dark Arts - Curse Words] and [Dark Arts - Necromancy]. A ‘Must-Have’ on every aspiring Evil-Lord’s shopping list!]

As much as I disliked the second part of the book description… I can never say no to ‘free’ experience.

Leaving close to four thousand at the man's shop, I started leaving, with him showing me out of his property, and waving me goodbye, inviting me over whenever I felt like it. His beaming eyes unnerved me, not once had he groaned again.

The metamorphosis of his character remained a mystery to me. Maybe he was just excited about getting a sale to remove some items from the shop, fulfilling the family wish and all?

For now, it did not matter. I have had my purchase. Turning away from the store, I carried on with my mission. Codename - Vacation… I am ashamed to admit that I had actually started having fun. On duty no less!

How tactless of me…

At the same time, over one thousand kilometers away, in the land of Bellrik - self proclaimed magical kingdom - in a certain academy, in a certain mostly empty classroom, a lone girl was carrying on with her experiments.

She once again mixed components, writing down formulas…

“All right… It will work this time, right?” She asked herself standing aside, grabbing a wand, and twirling it in the air. “I call forth the Grace of The Three. Of Sun and Moon - and um…everything between! Let all be mold, let all be combined, and with graceful touch, the matter be one… TRANSMUTATION!”

The cauldron in the middle of the room shined with blue light. Then slowly, it turned pink, making the girl smile widely. It was a success! Finally! And then…

… the pot’s content exploded.

A piece of nasty, pink, gooey substance stained her face and body, as her lips turned, from wide smile to desperation.

She sniffed, as she added another failure to her counter. Then, she broke down into tears.

“WHY ISN’T IT WORKING!?” She howled through now pink gooey tears.

Maybe. Maybe they were all right? Maybe, she just wasn’t cut to be a magician. Despite her mother and father, all being court-mages of the highest caliber. Despite her older two sisters and three brothers being all marked as prodigies before they could even walk. Maybe, all her family’s luck and talent had already been used on them before she came along?

“FUCK IT ALL!” She slammed her wand into the table, cracking it into two, and hurting her palm.

With this, a book fell off of the shelf, and a piece of paper slid off.

A string of curses continued from her mouth for some time. After nursing her pained hand, she finally noticed the paper.

She started cleaning up, gathering books, and eventually looking at the note, to see which book it was supposed to be put back into.

Out of curiosity, she glanced at the text and started reading.

“...sometimes, universal chants are ‘useless’ if performed by ‘irregular magicians’ - often shunned as talentless, the core of their struggles lies in the fact that they are unable to reconstruct the magical formation from pre-aligned symbols and texts… In this case, they should call on power from elsewhere…”

She continued reading.

Then, pulling up the sleeves of her robes, she put all the nasty things back into the pot, with prepared materials, and decided to change the chant slightly.

Most of the spells were the ‘Words of gods’ - transcribed for common use. Sometimes though, someone’s connection to the god was simply too weak to call upon their power. What then could they do?

They simply needed to look for another god!

The witch started to sing with some suggested words from the paper

“Oh Lord. Of Flesh and Bones. You, who once carried the name of a man. Effortlessly scratching the Wall of Dreams, without knowing the Sin…T-transmute?”

She… nearly ‘asked’ the spell, hoping it would listen to her.

A fair distance away, in between dimensions.

Zariel was scratching some notes in his book, preparing for the next step in the campaign, when he felt a call for power from a new believer.

Not one to deny someone who wished for something through their own hard work he accepted and began listening to the request earnestly.

“What the..? Why a pot, what is with those ingredients? This combination would just result in…? Ugh why are my followers always so kinky! Fine, fine, have it your way!”

Zariel lazily waved his hands and sent a pulse of magic to them.

“I really need to start getting more diverse alignment followers…” He groaned as he went back to scribbling in his book.

The pot, after not showing much reaction, began to glow. First blue. Then pink… then… yellow?

The content of the pot, the pot itself, and the floor beneath it turned into some horrid brown black mixture. The texture became ‘alive’ , the pot grew teeth and a grotesque tongue with multiple protrusions, its insides turned into flesh, as, without realizing, the girl had turned a simple pot into a mimic!

No. This certainly should not have happened.

But overtaken by joy of her ‘first spell’ that ‘worked’ without backfiring horrendously, the girl paid it no attention as she jumped for joy before diving and hugging the thing she had just made.

Crying tears of joy, she ignored the strangeness of the situation. Her only thought was thanking whatever deity that responded to her ‘prayer’.