Black Market (1)

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The sight confronting Lyrium was something akin to the atmosphere of an entire city. It was far grander than he had imagined.

"I never thought it would be this big," he murmured in awe.

The author of The Path of the Elemental Sage had described the Black Market as an illicit trading hub located in a ruined terrain or a tunnel.

But, as it turned out, that description was far from complete.

What lay beyond the narrow tunnel was an expansive 4-dimensional space, a quadrant that housed the true Black Market.

Lyrium continued to walk forward, his eyes taking in the vast scene before him.

There were people everywhere—buying, selling, and trading an array of goods.

Most of the patrons were men, engaged in various transactions that seemed to hum with an undercurrent of secrecy.

All around him were sections and stalls filled with potions, artifacts, and numerous other unique items.

However, one area stood out to him above all others—the Weapons and Skills section.

Without hesitation, he made his way toward the weapons shop, eager to inspect what it had to offer.

As he pushed open the door, a magnificent sight greeted him, causing Lyrium's eyes to widen in disbelief.

His composure, however, remained intact, and he quickly muttered to himself.

"I think I should stop calling these little stalls 'shops.' Perhaps I should start calling them malls."

The shop was yet another marvel of 4-dimensional space, its interior vast and expansive, more like an enormous mall than a mere store.

It was large enough to house rows upon rows of weapons, each one more impressive than the last.

There was ample room for customers to roam freely, examining each item at their leisure without feeling cramped or rushed.

"May I help you, sir?" A young man, not older than 25, approached Lyrium.

His pale black hair and onyx eyes marked him as someone who had spent years honing a quiet, unassuming presence.

"Ah...oh... I'm just here to look at some weapons," Lyrium said, forming a polite smile as he spoke.

"Please follow me, sir." The young man motioned for Lyrium to follow him toward a small hall where a variety of weapons—swords, daggers, and other deadly implements—were carefully arranged.

"What kind of weapon are you looking for, sir?" the young man inquired.

"Can I have a few minutes alone? I want to pick the weapon myself," Lyrium replied, his gaze steady as he met the man's eyes.

The young man nodded, wordlessly stepping back and leaving Lyrium to explore at his own pace.

'Let's see...'

Lyrium roamed through the hall, passing by countless unique and rare swords—many forged from highly durable runes or enchanted with ancient artifacts.

Yet, none of them seemed to capture his attention. He was searching for something specific.

After several minutes of carefully examining the weapons, his gaze fell upon an old, rusty sword covered by a white cloth.

It was lying on a small table in the corner of the hall, seemingly forgotten by everyone else.

Intrigued, Lyrium walked toward the table, his fingers brushing the cloth before lifting it off to reveal the sword beneath.

It was gigantic—far larger than Lyrium's own body. Even so, the weight of the sword felt surprisingly light in his hands.

As he held it, he couldn't help but wonder at its construction.

According to his theory, the sword was either made from an extraordinarily light material, or perhaps it was enchanted to adjust its weight based on the user's capabilities and strength.

Despite his musings, he couldn't be sure. It was merely speculation for now.

Nevertheless, the sword's design was undeniably captivating.

Despite its rust, Lyrium could still make out the faint color of the blade—pale black, almost ethereal in its appearance.

The craftsmanship was evident, the blade neither too thick nor too thin, but perfectly refined.

The handle was adorned with an intricate four-leaf clover pattern, adding to the sword's almost otherworldly charm.

It was clear to Lyrium that this sword had been made by a master swordsmith, someone with exceptional skill and artistry.

A brief pause filled the air as Lyrium considered the weapon.

It was unconventional, ancient, yet undeniably alluring.

Without further hesitation, he gripped the sword more firmly and made his way toward the counter section of the shop.

Upon reaching the counter, he found the same young man standing there, waiting for him.

Lyrium placed the sword on the counter, sliding it forward as their gazes met.

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Lyrium could see the surprise flicker in the man's eyes.

"I want this," Lyrium stated simply, his eyes never leaving the young man's face.

The man blinked in disbelief before breaking into a nervous smile. "Sir, are you sure? This sword has been lying here for decades. It's... not in the best condition."

"Still, I want it," Lyrium replied, his voice steady. "How much?"

The counterman hesitated, his brow furrowing as if he were unsure whether to press the matter further.

Nevertheless, he eventually nodded and typed something into his wristband.

"Given its age and condition, the price is... 5,000 Uber Cash."

Lyrium's mouth twitched slightly. 5,000 Uber Cash. It was an almost laughable sum for such an item.

Even a chocolate bar might cost more than that.

'Sigh. I guess they only care about the sword's design and construction, not its actual power or feats.'

"Cash or wristband, sir?" the counterman asked, his smile warm but tinged with concern.

Lyrium didn't have a wristband yet, as he was still in his first year at the academy.

His academy wristband had not yet been issued to him, but he knew that his smartphone could connect to the same system.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and paid the amount immediately.

"Thank you for your purchase, sir," the young man said with a polite bow. "We hope you return again."

Lyrium nodded in acknowledgment, then turned and exited the store.

He stored the sword in his 4-dimensional wristwatch and began to make his way through the bustling streets of the Black Market.

What Lyrium appreciated most about the Black Market was how it treated all customers equally.

Whether rich or poor, noble or commoner, every patron was treated with the same respect.

There was no discrimination here. And, of course, the low prices made it an ideal place to shop.

After strolling for a few minutes, Lyrium found himself in front of a small wooden building.

This time, however, he steeled himself not to call it a "small shop." He had learned better by now. This was a skill shop.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.

Once again, the sight that greeted him was beyond his expectations.

The shop was yet another example of 4-dimensional space, its interior expansive and seemingly endless.

The lobby and display area were similar to the weapons shop, but instead of weapons, this store featured rows upon rows of glowing crystals, each one a unique skill or ability.

Green transparent screens hovered in front of the crystals, displaying details about each skill—its rank, description, and requirements.

As Lyrium closed the door behind him with a soft creak, he moved toward the skill section, his footsteps quiet on the smooth floor.

Out of nowhere, a middle-aged man appeared before him.

He was around 45, with a neatly groomed beard, wearing a suit and a hat.

"My name is Victor," the man said, bowing his head slightly in deference to Lyrium.

"How may I assist you, sir?"

Lyrium smiled faintly, scratching the back of his head in an almost awkward gesture.

"Ah... if it's alright, I'd like to check out the skills alone."

Victor stared at him for a few moments before nodding in agreement.

With a slight bow, he moved toward the counter section, leaving Lyrium to his own devices.

Lyrium couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. He recognized Victor, of course.

In the original storyline, Victor was the one who would later assist the protagonist in selecting his skills.

But that was a different story.

Turning his attention back to the rows of crystals, Lyrium couldn't help but grin.

"Now, let's pick one, baby," he murmured to himself as he walked toward the nearest display, ready to make his choice.

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