Multiversal Shop of Wounders/Horrors

He glared at the list of warning signs the ROB who snatched him placed at the entrance. Red rubbed at his beard. His appearance was rather disheveled from his multiple attempts to escape the small confines of his shop. Some ROB thought it would be funny to take a powerful psionic trap him in a shop, hand him a few bars of steel, and send him adrift.

Red couldn't do anything to anyone within his shop. Those were the rules. He couldn't attack, threaten, or coerce customers into doing what he wanted. He couldn't hand them a pen and take everything they own and leave into their world. No, they had to invite him and pay him by the hour for a task.

He couldn't make his hourly wage accessible, either. His actions were determined by how much he was paid, and the rules said as much. Oh, the ROB must have had fun with that.

What could he do trapped within the shop? Apparently, it was an interdimensional system with all the bells and whistles he could expect once unlocked. He needed in-game currency only purchasable from customers buying things or hiring him to do their bidding.

Unfortunately, he hasn't had a customer since the last one took one look at his sign and ran away screaming. It wasn't like he was a Djinn or anything. The walls were cramped, and he hated the feeling of cabin fever he was getting.

Red lifted a silver bar from his shelf with telekinesis and mixed it with iron before heating them and running energy-rich air through them.

Item Creation lvl1 – A skill that enhances an item's quality created by the user's hands. The more the user participates in an item's creation, the more involved this skill will be. Higher levels of this skill will add additional abilities to increase the natural hardness of a metal or, in rare cases, transform an item into an artifact, making it virtually indestructible by normal means. At low levels, there is a chance that the item will be cursed or blessed with random effects.

The screen appeared as he slowly quenched the weapon in heavy water gathered from the air as he imbued it with nuclear light from his image. While he fiddled with multiple extremely complicated procedures, he started to relax and somewhat forget about his situation. Even knowing it wouldn't last, he still enjoyed making things.

Slowly, the weapon cooled, and a slight glow remained at the weapon's edge. He ripped the leg off his desk, watched it sag with only three legs supporting it, and slowly carved a handle. The room returned the desk's leg automatically, and Red grinned. He had an infinite supply of wood. He sensed the exploit and went to work.

…

"This isn't my room." Red looked up from the wooden breastplate henge he was currently carving inscriptions into to see some random girl. "I didn't know there was a shop in the Red Keep."

He rubbed at his temples. The last time he heard Red Keep, it was from that letdown of a show called Game of Thrones. Well, infinite meant infinite and not two or three. Red finished the henge and looked up from his work.

Red tried to smile as the girl read the sign on the door and instantly lost all enthusiasm.

"My name is Red. Welcome to my shop. As you can read from the sign, I can't harm you in any way, but I can sell you weapons and armor."

"Made of wood," The girl said.

"They are enchanted. But if it's steel you want, I have a sword, but it's a little big for you."

"I already have a sword. And I'm not sure I need anything you have. Is any of this magic? Is it real?" Red raised a hand, and his nameless sword flew off a shelf and into his hand.

The weapon glowed faintly, and the girl looked impressed. Unfortunately, that didn't mean she had the money to pay for anything.

"You can also purchase my time," Red said.

"What does that mean?"

"If you have enemies and gold, you can pay for my time in your world, and I will take care of them for you."

"Like a faceless man from the stories." The girl asked.

"Sure," Red said.

"I don't have any enemies. I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and my father is the hand of the King. I don't have anything to worry about." Arya said.

He rolled his eyes. "You're what, eight or maybe 9. Trust me when I say the older you get, the more enemies you find." Red shrugged. "Take this." He handed her a key to his shop. "You can only use it once, and you can't trade me anything that isn't yours unless you summon me to steal something. Then my fee will be removed from whatever you want me to steal." Red said.

"I don't need you to steal anything for me either. My dancing instructor wouldn't like it if I asked someone else to catch a cat."

Red chuckled. "That sentence makes sense, and I don't feel like popping your head off like a bottlecap for hearing it."

"Maybe I should go."

"I'll see you soon, and remember Little Finger has 2 million gold to hide away."

She stopped and turned around after letting go of the door. He closed his hand, and the door shut.

…

He needed to work on his customer service skills. That might not have been a big sale, but he could have turned it into one in the future. Red couldn't rely on fanfiction and half-remembered memories of the show.

Red slipped the henge in place on the armor set he was building and looked it over. With the henge, the breastplate could be snapped open and closed, connecting both sides of it. The only way to open it was to grab the front and the back and pull them in separate directions while wanting the breastplate to open.

Item Creation lvl5

His shelves were full of horse carvings, suits of wooden armor, and even a wooden dummy with wooden chainmail covering it. When his shop door opened, he was busy tying wood fibers together and writing inscriptions on each one, and a body with dark black hair walked in. He was a wife of a body with sunken brown eyes and a hungry expression.

"Am I in the nuthouse?"

Red sighed and put on the fakest smile imaginable. "Well, my little friend, welcome to Red's enchanted gear. Where we have the best tools to slay vampires around." Most of his inscriptions turned out to be light-based, so they were expected to work on vampires best.

"A simple yes would have sufficed. Blimey, what's the world coming to when everyone has to exaggerate their importance."

"Who are you, kid? What were you looking for when you ended up here?"

"My name is Tom Riddle." Red winced. "Is there something wrong with my name?"

"It's a powerful name like Tim the Enchanter."

 "Once again, mate, I feel forced to inform you that your word salad is unnecessary," Tom said as he read the shop's rules and Red's limitations. "I see you're some kind of Djinn like from the Arabian Nights. It says here that I can read the effects by focusing on an object. But it does not say if this has bloody hidden curses."

"Well, I could sell you future knowledge instead of one of my fine objects on display. Knowledge sold must be truthful and can't be used to curse you. Just ask, and I'll tell you what I can. Just list the price you're willing to pay and I'll give you information about that price according to the shop."

"I came in here looking for something to defend myself. I'm going to a boarding school and would like a good knife."

"Hogwarts," Red said.

Tom narrowed his eyes before biting his cheek and placing a sickle on Red's desk. 

"What will it be like? Will I finally meet people like me, or will they be a disappointment like the others? Extrapolate your answer. I don't want you to say yes or no and leave it now. I need more information."

Red smirked at Tom Riddles's demand.

"Alright, you will meet no wizards and witches like you. They won't have your drive, hunger, or determination. Compared to you, they are sheep who all bleat loudly on their way to be butchered.

+10 SP (Shop Points)

"Do you have a good knife for a sickle?" Red raised his hand, and five four-inch knives floated off the shelves and lined up on his desk.

"This one is enchanted to stay sharp, be unnoticed by all but the owner, and has nuclear light on its edge." He hurried the sickle over, and Red happily snatched it up.

+10SP

SP 20

There was nothing he couldn't buy, including entry into other worlds. The problem was the price. For Tom's world, which was Harry Potter during the 1930s, it was a smooth 500,000,000SP. For Arya's world, it was 100,000,000SP. Both were far out of his price range, but one was a little easier than the other.

Seeing the prices made him feel far less trapped. All he needed was a vast amount of wealth.

He looked at the dagger's value. It was worth 200SP, and Tom was getting it for 10. It was made with ore, and he couldn't get back so quickly. But it was the sales that mattered, not the items. With time, he would get paid more than the items were worth.

Tom took his knife and left, and Red used the SP to expand his shop. The walls moved slightly, and he went from a poor man's shop to a slightly less poor man's shop.

When he paced, he could take a few more steps in each direction, which was a win in his book.

…

The door opened, and he shot back to his counter as an Imp crossed his threshold. He looked around for a second before spotting the horse figurines.

"Score, why didn't I know a place like this was in our building." The Imp said.

"Hey, do these miniatures need to be painted? What's wrong, sour puss? Have you never seen an Imp that knows his business? Yeah, I look good. I can only guess that's why you're staring like a creep."

"Sorry, it's been a long day. The last guy was a ball of issues, and I have to ask: Does my store attract a type?" Red asked.

"I can't say I know anything about that or why a human is selling knickknacks down here in Imp City, but your guess is as good as mine." Red nodded slowly. "Look at the price tag."

"Wait, these can move. All I need to do is call it." He placed the miniature on Red's counter and called it from the other end. The wooden horse trotted over, using its wooden henges well."

"Slap my ass and call me an impressive daddy. Alright, here you go, worth every penny. My name is Blitzo, and the O is silent. It's nice to see a shop like yours around here. I hope you manage to stay in business."

+300SP

Red stared at the large intake of SP and knew he had to make getting to hell a priority. He looked at the price and winced.

50,000,000,000SP Helluvaboss

Those were a lot of zeroes.

Blitzo closed the door to his shop, and the door burst open. Arya Stark was crying and babbling something while he slowly put a bookmark in the book he had been reading. 

"You have to save my father. They're going to execute him. There is no time. I'll give you all of the money Little Finger has stashed away. Just do what you can." Arya said.

His head bent to the side in disbelief. To think that the seed he planted would sprout so soon. It had only been a few weeks. But he felt a single hour had been bought through her words. Each Gold coin was worth 100SP. By taking that deal, he would gain 300,000,000SP. But the shop was tricky. Gold, he found himself, would only give half the SP compared to gold earned from transactions.

Little Finger's gold wouldn't count because Arya hired him to steal it. Technically speaking, her vague request for him to save her father left much wiggle room, too. The dragon eggs shouldn't have hatched yet, and he needed to stretch after being cramped in his shop for so long.

Then there was the issue of power. If he chose to go without restraints, then it would be 1,000,000SP an hour in Game of Thrones. But that was part of the transaction.

Red agreed to the transaction and left the soft yellow glow and lemon-fresh smell of his shop for the stench-filled streets of King's Lading. After weeks cooped up in his shop, he was out.