We stopped in front of a massive building with a black iron gate. Above it was a wooden sign that read: The Beast Traders Organization.
Miro looked at me and said calmly:
"We're here."
I placed my hand on the door. It was almost hot to the touch. I pushed it, but it didn't budge at first; then I pressed harder until it gave a little. Zoe and Miro joined me, and together we gave it a solid shove, and the door finally opened.
A chaotic scene unfolded before us. A large crowd of people was moving about inside. Some were dividing up money, while others were shouting out obscure deals. The air was heavy with a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and smoke, as if a suffocating layer were covering everything.
Inside, there were cages and cells displaying strange creatures: dragons, winged dogs, dead bodies, and others in cages being dragged by workers toward the sales areas.
I walked forward with steady steps; eyes followed me, but I kept my gaze fixed ahead. I looked
at Miro—tension had taken hold of her as she placed her hand on her sword. I took her hand, and she looked at me; sweat was pouring down her forehead. I told her calmly, "Everything will be all right."
I approached a bald, overweight man who reeked of cheap cigarettes and alcohol. He was drinking quickly, as if trying to finish his bottle. His clothes were disheveled, and his voice was hoarse from drunkenness.
I leaned in slightly and asked him in a low voice:
"Is this the Monster Traders' Organization?"
He suddenly raised his head, then burst out laughing with a rough laugh.
"Yes… yes!" he said, shaking his head. "Tell us, have you caught any monsters?"
Then he pointed at me mockingly and added with heavy sarcasm:
"But people like you are better suited to be prey than hunters."
He laughed again—an annoying laugh—as some of his spit splattered onto my clothes.
I sensed a faint aura. It gathered around Zoe's palm, and then I remembered what had happened in the forest.
I felt the pressure rising in my veins from his provocation. I quickly raised my hand and clamped my fingers tightly around his mouth, squeezing until his features contorted.
I leaned in sharply toward him and said coldly:
"Don't make me repeat myself. Am I clear?"
He trembled as he tried to catch his breath, then nodded quickly:
"I'm sorry… sir… yes, that's the Beast Traders Organization."
I slowly removed my hand from him and said with a slight edge:
"Good."
He took a step back, panting, while I turned calmly and began walking away with steady strides.
Zoe and Miro followed me. Zoe said:
"I really hate people like them." Miro added immediately:
"You're right…"
I said calmly, "All right. We're going to the arms market." "
We were walking through the crowd. Many eyes watched us in silence. Men in torn clothes, their bodies covered in wounds,
were surrounded by a tall, blond-haired man wearing a brown cloak that hid half his face. A smile played on his lips as he clenched his cigarette between his teeth.
Meanwhile, a heavyset man muttered, breathing rapidly:
"I saw something strange with those eyes—that young man with pitch-black eyes. Who on earth is he?"
Inside the market
The place was unlike any ordinary market; weapons hung on the walls, some made of bone, others looking as if they had come straight out of ancient tales. Dark swords, strange glass orbs, and small tools whose purpose no one could easily discern.
I stopped in front of one of the stalls, silently examining the swords on display.
The vendor approached me with a smile and said confidently:
"This is one of the best swords… made from volcanic fire, strong and durable, perfect for you. And the prices are reasonable."
I took the sword in my hand, examined it for a moment, then calmly put it back.
Miro was wandering around freely, as if she knew her way around. It was a nice place, and Zoe was right beside me.
I looked at Zoe; she was glancing left and right while tugging at my shirt even more than before.
"No, I don't like that sword. I don't know what kind of weapon
I'm looking for—none of them have caught my eye."
I called out to Zoe. She came closer and asked, "What do you want, Commander?"
I whispered to myself, "I don't have enough money to buy a decent weapon. All I have left is enough for half a meal."
Then I said aloud, "Lend me some money."
She looked at me in surprise and said, "What?"
I told her, "I'll pay you back. I'll buy a weapon and give it to you."
She looked at me in silence.
That's when I felt nervous.
Then she said, "You promise you'll pay it back?" I said, "Yes, I'll pay you back."
She handed me some coins—enough to buy about two meals. I looked at her and thought to myself: Well… with this amount, I'll be able to buy a decent weapon. I lifted my head and said, "Thank you." She replied calmly: "Don't worry, you'll return it later." I nodded nervously and said, "Yes… I'll return it to you."
We continued walking through the market's alleys; my eyes darted from one shop to the next, but nothing caught my attention. Until I stopped in front of an old shop located in a quiet corner of the market.
We went inside and walked until we reached an old corner, where a man with wrinkled features and white hair sat, his small, white eyes framed by black pupils. He was wearing a strange outfit: a white shirt and very baggy brown pants.
He was sitting behind a wooden table, with swords and daggers of various shapes hanging on the walls behind him. I approached him and said quietly, "Hello… I'm looking for a sword or dagger that's right for me and is sturdy."
The old man raised his head and stared at me for a moment before saying, "I don't have anything like that."
I furrowed my brow, muttering to myself: Don't mess with me… there are hundreds of weapons behind you. But I suppressed my annoyance and said, "I've searched the entire market and haven't found anything I like."
A faint smile crossed his face, then he said, "A true weapon isn't one you choose… but one that chooses you."
Then he turned to Miro and asked her, "And you, young lady… what do you want?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering in a low voice, "I don't want anything… I have my own sword."
A weapon that chooses me? What is this old man talking about? No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than he turned directly toward me, as if he'd heard it, and tension crept into my chest. I quickly averted my gaze and said, "Just bring me that sword." Then I pointed to a sword hanging in the corner of the shop.
The old man nodded and headed toward it, but before he reached it, the adjacent shelf suddenly shook, and an old wooden box fell, coming to rest at my feet. I bent down slowly, reached out, and opened it cautiously.
Inside were two daggers.
They were unlike any other weapons in the shop. They were black, with dark red lines encircling them, surrounded by a faint aura that filled me with a strange feeling.
[[System]
New notification...
A special-grade weapon has been discovered...
The old man looked at the two daggers in my hands, then smiled a smile that seemed to come from an old memory.
"Finally… this day has come."
Then he looked up at me and said, "This is the most dangerous weapon in this place… and yet, it is the one that chose you, boy."
The man muttered to himself: Who is this young man who chose this weapon? For more than forty years,
no one had chosen it. I never expected someone like him to carry this weapon.
It seems this boy's future is very exciting.