It was a bustling afternoon at the Zen Auction House, where workers hurried about, bringing items for appraisal into the back rooms. In this world governed by a game-like system, appraising the true value of objects relied on high identification skills or enchanted items that aided in appraisal—investments requiring mana, like any other magic equipment.Johnny held a unique analytical rank, equipped with an appraisal skill that made him invaluable for identifying goods at the auction house. Not every item made it to the showcase as strict rules ensured that only items above a certain value were eligible for auction. The auction house featured multiple stages categorized by item ranks, ensuring lower-tier items like basic potions didn't overshadow grander treasures like magic swords."Here you go, Johnny. This is the last item for this batch. We still need to finalize the order," a staff said, The staff placed an item at the front of Johnny's office before leaving. Johnny's assist
Caster was resolute in making a strong brand impression at his first auction. He decided not to sell lower-rated scrolls and added a unique logo to attract attention.Maintaining a disguise, partly due to past assassination attempts and fear of his father's interference, he felt a mix of nerves and anticipation as he approached the auction house, akin to a student before a crucial exam.As Caster showed his plaque to the guard, the guard waived his entrance fee, granting him access to various corridors leading to different auction stages. Caster noticed that stages were segregated based on item value, with more prestigious areas reserved for higher-status participants.To his surprise, Caster's scrolls were slated for the stage hosting more expensive items. He observed bidders settling into their seats, as they waited with eagerness to start behind a twitching curtain indicating preparations underway.Attendees were given numbered paddles for bidding. The people present called out t
Caster became too focused in his work. His understanding of magic had advanced significantly beyond the basics. He no longer needed to rely on pre-drawn schematics for his magical spells; he could now adjust their parameters, such as output, area of effect, and even elemental variations.He had identified some vital elements that were the easier to manipulate, fire, water, wind, and earth. These findings were carefully documented in his notes, allowing him to differentiate these elements from others.Despite this progress, his understanding remained little. He couldn't alter the internal algorithms of the spells. For example, he could transform a water spell into a fire spell within certain limitations.Caster mainly worked with basic spells like mana arrow, mana bolt, and mana shield, and he had successfully created lesser versions of these spells. Using these as a base, he could add elemental properties to enhance their power.His mana arrow could now be imbued with wind, fire, or w
Felix ventured into the woods with a determined goal—to level up and kickstart his new life as an adventurer. At just sixteen, he was considered a late bloomer among his kind, a demon hybrid with a taller stature and a more curvaceous figure than typical demons. His orange hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore practical armor while carrying a dagger, taking his first steps into the world beyond the orphanage where he grew up.Orphaned and raised by the Mages of Justus, Felix had worked hard for two years at an inn to save up for his ascension class. When the opportunity finally came, he chose the path of a scout, a class known for agility and keen detection skills. However, lacking nearby dungeons or easy monster hunts, he found it challenging to gain experience as a tier 1 scout. Frustrated with mundane tasks, he resolved to venture into the forest alone, despite the risks.Determined and stubborn, Felix avoided seeking help from other adventurers, particularly wary of male a
Caster sat in his room as he examined all he had been through on that day. What had started as a simple test of his spell scroll skills on monsters quickly turned into a rescue mission for a reckless young man. He hadn't delved into his background much, and their interaction had left him perplexed by his erratic behavior—swinging between emotional outbursts and a hesitant attempt at gratitude.He thought to avoid him in the future. "Well… he seems unpredictable… Should I keep my distance?" Caster was uncertain if his behavior hinted at deeper issues or if that was simply his nature. Despite the strange encounter, he had received a sausage as a token of thanks, which he found surprisingly satisfying as he settled down to scribe another spell scroll before bed.Tomorrow, he planned to splurge on magic spell scrolls to broaden his repertoire and enhance his crafting skills. He hoped the Zen Auction House might reduce their hefty fees, which cut into his profits unlike regular stores.
Caster extended his hand towards a bundle of wood in one placeDespite lacking elemental affinities, he had learned a spell that used friction to ignite flames rather than fire. The sticks caught fire, and Caster’s new half-demon companion added a few more to the blaze.The expedition had stopped for the night, deciding to camp in the wilderness. They would reach their destination by midday tomorrow. The leader had deemed it too dangerous to travel at night. Setting up camp and assigning watch shifts was the best option.Caster and Felix were chosen for the first watch. Felix was picked because he was a scout and a newcomer, while Caster was chosen due to his young age. Now, he sat opposite the short man with orange hair."Did you cut your hair?" He placed more wood into the fire and looked at Caster, asking, "What happened?" The cold did go through his long robe, making him shiver."Oh, yes," the man replied. His hair had been longer when Caster had rescued him from a life-threatenin
The contract lay open on the table. The demon instructed, "Sign here on the dotted line.""Is my name enough?" Caster asked, hesitating."Yeah, that’s fine. The contract reacts to your mana, not your actual name," the demon assured.Caster wrote his name, watching as the contract adjusted itself. He had successfully negotiated with the demon to keep his true identity a secret and avoided mentioning his noble lineage.The most crucial clause was ensuring that the demon couldn’t undersell his work. They had set a minimum price based on what similar scrolls fetched at auctions.Any additional items he crafted would need further negotiation, but Caster didn’t feel the demon was trying to cheat him, at least not excessively. Profit was still the goal.Caster couldn’t be certain how much the demon knew. The extent of the demon's identification skill was unclear. Caster himself could only use it on specific items, typically just getting a general name.Analyzing people was also challenging;
The following day, Caster returned to the store and found his workspace stocked with boxes of blank scrolls, high-quality inkwells, and sketching paper. He brought his crafting tools from the inn, preferring the familiarity of his quill. After closing the door behind him, he surveyed the room before settling at his new desk."It’s time to get things done at work," he muttered to himself.Crafting was his main task, so he began by scribing his staple magic fire arrow spell. Within an hour, he completed one scroll and had enough mana left to make another. His contract required him to produce at least ten common-grade spell scrolls each week, with the option to create more for a bonus.While money was a motivation, Caster's primary goal was progress. He wanted to increase his levels and understand the mechanics of magic. However, progress required substantial funds. He had a temporary sponsor but needed to prove himself a worthy investment.Caster pulled out a scroll he had purchased
Caster was mature enough to see the world as it was. He understood that most younger folk saw it through a lens of hope and ambition, their dreams of treasure and fame setting them apart from his more grounded approach. Some were from humble beginnings: sons and daughters of farmers; young people from families that were better off but that had fallen on hard times and now were boy or girl determined to claw back some of that perceived lost respect, no matter the price."My jaw twisted into a small smirk as I imagined their wide eyes and wide, baseless plans and all they think is, ‘Get some gold, a shiny sword, you’ll be a hero.’" It was the same story, time and again: things that were often only dreams, rarely aligning with reality.Lowfield had been a deliberate choice despite what she had become. Knowing full well it wouldn’t be clear, he took the fast route but he took the fast route. The road taught him about its steep hills, its rocky passages and on occasion, the unfriendly tra
The early morning breeze bit into the cloak and the underdress at Caster’s shoulders as he walked the narrow cobblestone path into Lowfield. Today he had gotten rid of his imposing helmet and heavy armor. Dawn's fresh smell of its own earth together mingling with the familiar taste of his workshop on his clothes. He wasn’t hiding his identity, or painful silence had been left behind, today. Today was about remembering the life that kept breathing after his magesmith-tools stopped.The caravan had added liveliness to the town which reminded me of festival time, the town was waking up. Some of the faces settling onboard Caster recognised—newcomers amongst the adventurers. With fresh ambitions and none of the resolve yet tested, they walked on their own journey wide eyed and reminded him of the person he used to be. He watched the newcomers with a kind of quiet amusement, catching snippets of eager chatter about dungeons and imagined battles, bravado thick in the air.A young man, prob
Casting his small treaty of provisions, a load of stale bread crusts, some wrinkled fruits, and a hard wedge of cheese that once lived on a more hospitable broke surviving clunk to clunk. He made a gagging noise as he peered at the dried meat again and poked it with distaste. "Wouldn't it kill the fates to give me a real meal?" Just once. Something hot, even." He sneaked a look over at where a stove should be, the ones that made his mouth water when a hearty stew bubbled away. For a moment he smirked, "No stove yet … maybe I could conjure a magical pan up." "Oil might be asking for a miracle."Peering out the window he squinted at the city in the early light. Carts creaked along cobbled paths and vendors hawked fresh fish and newly baked bread in the place I had walked into, even now. He’d done a lot with the house in the week that he’d been there, turning it into something livable, barely. "What the hell?' he murmured, 'Doors actually close now' he concluded feeling a bit more proud
Caster adjusted his grip and took a close look at his work, scrutinizing every line and angle of the newly crafted weapon handle. The wood was tough but carefully sanded, bearing faint, meticulous patterns he had engraved over hours of work. "Alright," he muttered, almost to himself. "Let's see if this holds up."He lowered his gaze to the small, rough-edged mana stone beside him. Its surface shimmered faintly, a testament to the raw energy that pulsed within it. With precision, he made a tiny opening at the base of the handle, using one of his tools to keep the gap just wide enough for the stone to fit snugly. Holding his breath, Caster slid the stone into place, his hand steady even as he felt the twinge of nervousness in his gut. One wrong move, one crack, and the handle would split, and the entire effort would be wasted. He exhaled, the pressure off his shoulders as the stone was secure. He picked up a little hammer and taps the opening closed, sealing the stone.Caster was co
Caster’s gaze shifted between his rough tools and the iron-cast walls around him. The dim, flickering light from a lone torch cast dancing shadows on his workbench, where the worn mace lay, waiting. Each scuff and nick in the wood handle held a tale of its own; it wasn’t just a tool but a companion, a weapon that had been through as much as he had. And here he was, weighing its life and usefulness like a weary healer judging the last pulse of an old patient.He ran his hand over the handle one last time, tracing the grains and grooves with a practiced eye. “Adding a stone’s one thing,” he muttered. “But what it needs is stability.” His fingers slid to a small crack, an old fracture that hadn’t yet spread but threatened to. “If that widens… this thing’s done.”His hands worked without thought, reaching into the assortment of stones, metals, and powders he had scavenged over time. His fingers found a small, rough mana stone, and he rolled it between his fingers, feeling its faint warm
Caster knocked metal hard on metal, the sound reverberating in the almost pitch black workshop. With every hook an aura of magical energy was discharged providing brief glimpses of light on the roughly completed stone walls. It smelled of hot metal and a low, tense buzz, which seemed to say that the room itself had tensed to watch him.Caster, still young but hardened by the trials of his craft, stood poised over his latest project: a shield, its shape still raw but which is already starting to look graceful. Though not tall and still somewhat thin, he seemed to possess good illating strength, every punch he landed being calculated. Each movement was accompanied by complex magical ripples, which Indragni had seen on the surface of the shield before a layer of runes he more or less sketched with great detail. In addition to a frown a look of intense concentration took over his face only to be interrupted the occasional lean back to examine the painting.After several more strikes, he
Caster climbed the winding stone stairs leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns had taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster climbed the winding stairs stone leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns has taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster met them along the way quite often, which slowed down his progress. As he fought, he had to wait for them to finish before he could move on. “Hey, Caster! Need a hand?” one adventurer called out, swinging a sword at a monster.“No thanks! I’m good,” Caster replied, keeping his eyes on the battle ahead. He knew he could be accused of stealing if he forced his way through. Caster wished to avoid conflict with others, at least for now. He didn’t want to risk incurring their wrath or losing potential allies. “Once I get a silver-grade card, things will be different,” he thought. With higher levels, prestige wouldn’t be far behind, and the dynamics of encounters would shift dramatically.The level wasn’t that large; if someone knew the way, they could stroll past most dangers and quickly descend to the second level. Caster recalled hearing about hidden paths that only seasoned adventurers were aware of. These shortcuts could be the difference between life and death, especially dee