The Subtle Art of Betrayal

It seemed Swain was determined never to visit the skill shop. While the arrest of Crawford tugged at my curiosity, I couldn't say I was all that surprised. After all, he'd taken down an entire cult, practically single-handedly; an act like that, though satisfying on principle, often didn't sit well with certain authorities. But I could see where he was coming from. Anyone ruthless enough to implant curses that turn people into walking bombs probably deserved whatever Crawford dished out.

And then there was Prink. Yes, he came to the shop.

"Skill vendor. I need a hundred physical enhancement skills."

"That's just ridiculous," I replied flatly.

"Can you do it or not?"

"I can, but you might not like the outcome."

"I'll take my chances."

I shrugged. "It'll require some effort. Let's say, ten times the usual price—one hundred gold coins."