Rivendell - Two Weeks LaterTraining Gardens - Sunrise
Marco Antonio Durán blocked the sword strike with a move he had practiced a thousand times. His body moved instinctively, twisting to deflect the next thrust and counterattack with precision.
His opponent—an elf named Glorfindel—dodged with irritating grace and struck him in the ribs with the pommel of his training sword.
"Dead," declared Glorfindel. "Again."
Marco gasped, bending over with his hands on his knees.
"That was better than yesterday."
"Yes. Yesterday you died in three seconds. Today you lasted five." Glorfindel smiled. It wasn't a mocking smile—it was genuinely encouraging. "You're making progress, Marco. But you're still telegraphing your movements. You need to be more fluid."
"I've only been training with you guys for two weeks. You've literally had millennia."
"Exactly. Which means I know what I'm teaching." Glorfindel extended his hand, helping Marco to his feet. "Another round. This time, try NOT to think. Let your body react."
Marco grunted but took up his position again.
Glorfindel attacked.
This time, Marco didn't think about defense or counterattacks. He just... reacted.
He blocked. He spun. His sword moved in an arc that almost connected with Glorfindel's shoulder.
The elf stepped back, genuinely surprised.
"That's it! That's exactly what you need! No thought, just instinct." Glorfindel lowered his sword. "Enough for today. Your muscles need rest. We'll return tomorrow at dawn."
"Tomorrow at dawn?" Marco groaned. "Don't you have more humane hours? Like, I don't know, after breakfast?"
"The enemy doesn't wait for your breakfast, merchant." But Glorfindel was smiling. "Go. Elrond said you have an elven healing session in an hour."
Houses of Healing - One Hour Later
The healing room was exactly what Marco had imagined an elven spa to be. Soft light. The scent of medicinal herbs. The sound of water running in nearby fountains. And elven music playing gently in the background.
An elf named Tarínel was waiting for him. She was a master healer, Elrond explained, and had agreed to teach him basic elven healing techniques as part of his payment.
"Marco Antonio Durán," Tarínel greeted. His voice was like music. "Elrond told me you have... unique energy. Nen, did you call him?"
"Yes. It's a power system from another world."
"Fascinating. Show it to me."
Marco activated Ten. His aura enveloped him like an invisible second skin.
Tarínel's eyes widened.
"I can... see it. It's like light, but not light. Externalized life energy." He approached, extending his hand. "May I?"
Marco nodded.
She touched his aura. He immediately withdrew his hand in surprise.
"It's warm. Personal. Completely different from our elven magic, which comes from Arda itself." Tarínel studied it with renewed interest. "This complicates things. Our healing method works with natural energies of the world. Your Nen is... external to that."
"So you can't teach me?"
"I didn't say that. I only said it will be different." Tarínel smiled. "Elven healing is about harmony. About connecting with natural life energies and guiding them. Your Nen could be used similarly, but it requires adaptation."
They spent the next hour exploring. Tarínel taught him basic concepts: how to sense the life energy in other living beings, how to identify blockages or damage, and how to gently guide energy to damaged areas.
Marco tried to apply this with his Nen.
At first, nothing happened. But then...
Tarínel had brought a slightly wilted plant for practice. Marco placed his hands around it, activating his Merchant's Eye to SENSE the plant.
And she could feel it. Her life force weakening. A blockage at her roots where the water wasn't flowing properly.
Gently, she channeled her Nen into the plant. Not to force it to heal, but to... invite. To guide.
The plant responded. Its leaves straightened. The green color intensified.
"You did it!" Tarínel sounded genuinely excited. "It's raw, unrefined, but IT WORKED. Marco, you have a natural talent for this."
"Oh really?"
"Seriously. With practice, you could develop basic healing. Not at the level of elven masters—that takes centuries—but enough for minor wounds. Perhaps even moderate wounds eventually."
[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: Nen Healing - Level 1/10]
"That's... incredible."
"Come back tomorrow. We'll practice with more complex organisms. Eventually, maybe small animals. Then... well, we'll see."
Celebrimbor Forge - Noon
The forge that Elrond had provided to Celebrimbor was impressive. Not as large as his forge in Eregion, but equipped with everything necessary.
And in the center, on a specially designed anvil, rested the Star Forging Hammer.
Celebrimbor was working when Marco entered. The elf was striking a piece of mithril with perfect precision, the hammer gleaming with each impact.
"Marco," she greeted without stopping her work. "Give me a moment. I'm almost finished."
Marco watched, fascinated. The way Celebrimbor worked was pure art. Every blow had purpose. Every movement was efficient. And the hammer—the Starforge Hammer—amplified everything.
Finally, Celebrimbor put the piece in the water. The hiss was satisfactory.
"What are you doing?" Marco asked.
"Experimenting. The hammer allows me to work materials in ways that were previously impossible. This mithril..." he lifted the cooled piece, "...now has properties I never thought possible. Lighter, stronger, and with a natural affinity for enchantments."
"Can you teach me?"
Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow.
"Do you want to learn blacksmithing?"
"I want to learn EVERYTHING. I'm a salesperson. The more I know about the products I sell, the better I can sell them."
"Sound logic," Celebrimbor considered. "Very good. But I warn you: forging requires patience. It's not a skill you learn in weeks."
"I know. But I have time."
And so Marco spent the next few hours learning the absolute basics of elven smithing. How to maintain forge temperature. How to hammer metal effectively. How to read the material.
It was hard work. Physical. Sweaty.
Marco loved him.
[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: Basic Blacksmithing - Level 1/10]
Library of Rivendell - Afternoon
After showering (the elven baths were AMAZING), Marco went to the library.
I had spent every afternoon for the past two weeks here, reading everything I could about Middle-earth.
History. Geography. Politics. Races. Languages. Everything.
It was an unfair advantage, he knew it. Most people spent their whole lives learning what he could absorb with photographic memory in weeks.
But the guilt had vanished. He needed every advantage he could get.
Today I was reading about the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm. Specifically, about their trade relations with elves.
If he was going to be an effective multiversal trader, he needed to understand local markets.
"Dense reading," commented a familiar voice.
Loki appeared, now walking unaided. His wounds had healed completely thanks to elven healing magic (and, Marco suspected, accelerated Asgardian magic).
"Market research," Marco explained. "Dwarves have resources that elves want. Elves have art that dwarves admire. There's potential for intermediary trade."
"Always the merchant." Loki sat down. "I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About returning to my universe. Facing Thanos."
Marco closed the book, giving it his full attention.
"Already?"
"I've stayed two weeks. The Grimoire gave me the power I needed. Your elven healers repaired me. And..." Loki hesitated, "...to postpone it any longer is cowardice."
"It's not cowardice. It's preparation."
"It's fear. Fear that even with all this new power, it still won't be enough." Loki looked at his hands. "But it will never be enough if I just wait. I need to act."
Marco understood. He had seen that look before—in the mirror, when he was deciding whether to risk everything on his taco stand or play it safe.
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow. At dawn. I've enjoyed this world—it's strangely peaceful despite the Dark Lord lurking. But it's not my fight." Loki smiled. "My fight awaits in Asgard. Or what's left of it."
Are you going to win?
"I don't know. But at least now I have a chance. And that..." Loki touched the dagger Marco had given him—the emergency signal—"...is thanks to you."
"You earned it. You paid the price."
"Even so. Thank you." Loki stood up. "If I survive, I'll be back. You'll have a repeat customer."
"And if you don't survive..."
"Then at least I will have died trying. There is honor in that."
Marco stood up too and, without thinking, hugged Loki.
The god tensed, clearly not expecting physical contact. But then, slowly, he returned the embrace.
"Thank you, Marco Antonio Durán. For treating me like a person. For giving me the tools to save my brother. For being a friend when I had no reason to be."
"Thank you for saving me from Sauron. For protecting Eregion. For being the first customer who became a true ally."
They separated. Both had moist eyes, though neither would admit it.
"See you later, merchant."
"See you, God."
And Loki left, his green cape waving dramatically.
[Probability of Loki surviving his encounter with Thanos: 67%. Probability of him eventually returning to your store: 89%. You really like him.]
"I know, TARS."
[First real friend since you died. That's... significant.]
"Yes it is."
Elrond's Hall - Night
Dinner in Elrond's hall had become a tradition. Marco, Elrond, Círdan, Celebrimbor, Glorfindel, and several other high-ranking elves would gather to eat and discuss the day's events.
Tonight, Elrond had an announcement.
"Marco, your operations area is ready."
"Oh really?"
"Dedicated building in the lower valley. Large enough for your store when you open it. Space for storage, office, reception area. Everything you need."
"That's... incredible. Thank you."
"I've also sent introductory letters to Gil-galad, Galadriel, and several dwarven lords. We expect replies in the coming weeks. Your network will soon expand."
"And the gold," Círdan added. "The 50,000 coins have been transferred to your account. You can withdraw them whenever you need."
Marco felt real excitement. After two weeks of training and preparation, he was finally establishing his REAL business.
"So I'm officially open for business."
"Almost," Celebrimbor said. "You need a name. A brand. Every serious business operation needs an identity."
"I already have a name. The Multiversal Store."
"Too generic. You need something memorable. Something that captures your unique essence."
The group started throwing out ideas:
"The House of Impossible Wonders" "Marco's Shop" "Door Between Worlds" "The Infinite Warehouse"
Marco considered them all, but none felt RIGHT.
Then he had an idea.
"How about 'The Crossroads'? Because that's what I am—an intersection point between worlds. A place where paths cross. Where people from different realities can meet and trade."
Silence.
Then Elrond smiled.
"The Crossroads. Simple. Elegant. Meaningful. I like it."
"Me too," Círdan added. "It has poetic weight. The elves will appreciate that."
"Then it's decided," Marco said. "The Crossroads. My store. My brand. My future."
He raised his glass.
"To new beginnings."
"To La Encrucijada," they all repeated, toasting.
[UPDATE: Registered Trade Name - LA ENCRUCIJADA][Reputation in Rivendell: ESTABLISHED][Next phase: Customer network expansion]
Marco was about to take another sip of wine when he felt... something.
A tingling sensation in the back of his neck.
Your Danger Sense is activating.
But it wasn't immediate danger. It was... a warning. Anticipation.
"TARS, what is that?"
[Analyzing... Oh. OH.]
"That?"
[You have an incoming customer. Materializing in 3... 2... 1...]
In the middle of Elrond's hall, a dimensional rift opened.
It wasn't green like Loki. It wasn't red like Muzan. It was bright BLUE, with electricity crackling around the edges.
The elves immediately stood up, hands at the ready.
"Mark, your tent!" Elrond shouted.
"I can't! I have no control over WHEN they appear!"
The crack widened.
And from her emerged a figure that made Marco's heart stop.
He was a man. Asian. Maybe thirty years old. He wore a simple but elegant suit—black with a white shirt. Dark hair, perfectly combed.
But his EYES.
Her eyes shone with an unnatural blue light. And when she spoke, her voice resonated with a power that made the air vibrate.
"Excuse the interruption. I'm looking for the multiversal merchant. I was told I could find... specific resources here."
[MAXIMUM ALERT][IDENTIFIED CLIENT][Name: UNKNOWN][Danger Level: ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ (CRITICAL+)][Classification: COSMIC ENTITY]
Marco felt his mouth go dry.
Seven levels of danger.
One more than Muzan.
"Who are you?" he managed to ask.
The man smiled. It wasn't a threatening smile. It was almost... friendly. But there was something behind it. Something ANCIENT.
"Ah, pardon my manners. I am..." he paused, as if the name itself carried weight, "...you can call me James. And I come from a universe where the most powerful heroes face threats that destroy planets."
"What universe?"
"Marvel. Earth-616. The main timeline." James—if that really was his name—looked around the room with interest. "And I need to buy something very specific. Something to help me deal with... let's say... a power control problem."
[Marco... this guy is LYING about something. I can't identify what, but his energy signature is... erratic. Like he's containing something MASSIVE.]
Marco activated his Merchant's Eye.
The information that flowed almost brought him down:
Entity: [REDACTED]Power Level: COSMIC - Celestial ClassCurrent Danger: CONTENT (for now)Primary Need: [INFORMATION LOCKED]Destructive Potential: APOCALYPTICHonesty: 34%
"You're lying," Marco said directly. "About something big."
James blinked. Then he laughed—a genuine laugh.
"Interesting. Your ability can detect deception. Useful." His expression turned serious. "Very well. I'll be honest. My name isn't James. And I'm not exactly here as a regular customer."
"So what are you?"
"I am a fragment. A fragment of a cosmic entity that was... divided. And I need your help to reunite. Because if I don't..." her eyes shone more intensely, "...this fragment could spiral out of control. And when I spiral out of control..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
The implication was clear.
"So," Marco said, his voice surprisingly calm considering his inner panic, "what exactly do you need to buy?"
"Knowledge. Specifically, knowledge about how to fuse fragments of a divided soul. And I believe..." James smiled, "...that you recently sold exactly that kind of knowledge. To someone named Sauron."
Marco felt his blood run cold.
This client knew about his deal with Sauron.
Which meant that he either had EXCELLENT intelligence...
...or he was much more powerful than he appeared.
Probably both.
"You need to talk," Marco finally said. "But not here. Come with me."
And as he led "James" out of the hall—under the concerned gazes of the elves—Marco couldn't help but think:
Two weeks of peace. That's all I got. TWO WEEKS.
And now he had a fragmented cosmic entity in his living room.
His life was officially insane.
Again.
[END OF CHAPTER 13]