"I'm telling you," Galesberg muttered, eyes still wide as he exclaimed his thoughts out for the third time, "there's no way he should've had enough to buy that iron sword. It costs fifteen copper. Fifteen! And the game's been out for, what, three hours? That kind of money's impossible to farm so fast. Monsters don't even drop coins!"
FaeCarmen played with her ponytail, her brows furrowed in thought. "Maybe he sold monster parts. Claws, pelts, meat—those things can be traded to NPCs for alchemy or smithing. He did say he found a good grinding spot."
BigBadWolf crossed his arms and leaned back on the bench, pondering on her words. The party was on the second floor resting area of the auction hall. They were told to wait as the chief manager was busy in a meeting.
Since the group had exhausted their assumptions about the Gold-tier quest and its possible rewards, their topic of conversation naturally shifted to the "Pro" they met at Lance's smithy.
They had found that smithy after looking around for a place without players. They couldn't use the system to assess the dagger for its tier or stats as it was damaged, and years of RPG experience told them it was a precious item. They had to carry out its assessment secretly, so the arrival of another player in the isolated shop had really startled them at the time.
Of course, the player's appearance and actions were even more surprising, but in a good way.
Galesberg—Brandon—in particular had a hard time letting it go since then.
"Even if that's true," BigBadWolf responded skeptically to FaeCarmen, "how the hell did he manage to kill that many monsters barehanded? We all started with zero equipment. The six of us struggled just to land a hit on those rabbits."
FaeCarmen shrugged. "Probably the same way someone had managed to beat those three Berserk Deers to near death. We only leveled up and found the antique dagger because we landed the final punches. And we never even saw who wounded them."
The party shuddered at the memory. Be it Ezekiel, or that unknown player who could beat three Berserk Deers to an inch of their lives, only to not kill them in the end... there surely were all kinds of experts in the world.
RoachTen, leaning against the wall, shrugged. "I mean… it's not really our business. He didn't seem like he wanted to chat, so let him do his thing."
"Still," MazeBread chimed in, "he was so cool! The way he moved, the way he talked… he felt more like a powerful NPC than a new player like the rest of us."
The rest nodded in agreement.
TeaOnIce grinned as he played with a Rabbit bone. "Don't forget what he did with this Gold-tier quest too. I mean, turning it down like that? That takes guts. If he had accepted it, none of us would've had the right to say no. Forget about ordering us around, any other player would have kicked us out of the quest party to reap all the rewards alone."
FaeCarmen smirked. "They would have kicked us after making us do all the work." Her teasing gaze was directed at none other than Galesberg.
"Hey! That was a one time thing!" The young man protested, his ears turning red in embarrassment. "And I reimbursed you guys without keeping a single loot for myself!"
The others laughed, the old memory of their first every party quest on another VR game still fresh in their minds.
Galesberg sighed dramatically, coming back to Ezekiel. "But man… I really should've added him as a friend when I had the chance."
The others collectively groaned in regret.
MazeBread muttered, "Making friends with someone like that could've helped a lot in the long run…"
"But if he didn't want to befriend us," FaeCarmen added gently, "there's nothing we could do. You can't force someone to be your ally."
They fell silent for a moment, a rare reverent quiet settling over the noisy group.
Meanwhile, the subject of their discussion stood in front of a modest building tucked near the edge of the village square. The sign above the slanted roof read:
Somia's Hut
It was the only potion shop in all of Fwerah, and according to the knowledge planted in Ezekiel's head, it didn't open until sundown. But if one had rare materials to sell, the owner made exceptions.
He knocked on the wooden door politely. Once. Then twice more.
The front of the shop was void of any players, but not because there weren't any roaming about. It was because the shop had a cloaking effect on itself outside of business hours. Unless one carried items of real value to the shop owner, they wouldn't be able to perceive this place even if they were standing right in front of it.
The cloaking effect also covered the potential sellers once they stepped within the boundaries of the shop. Ezekiel had even used Stealth to approach the building, so players wouldn't see him disappearing into thin air when he got close enough.
Minutes passed, and just when Ezekiel wondered if she might not answer, there came the soft rustle of fabric from behind the door. A lock clicked, and with a slow creak, the door eased open.
A woman stood there, blinking sleepily. Her pale skin was almost translucent in the sunlight, her emerald green hair cascading over her shoulders in tangled waves.
Honey-brown eyes peered at him with curiosity from beneath long lashes. She wore a simple white robe, too large for her frame—the hem trailing over the ground and covering her feet entirely. It was unclear if she was barefoot or not.
But what stood out most were her ears—long and pointed.
An elf.
In ReLife, elves were one of the four primary races that coexisted with humans, dwarves, and beastkin. Known for their long lives and exceptional affinity for magic, they were revered—even among players.
"How may I help you, Adventurer?" She asked, her voice thick with sleep and laced with a raspy edge that surprised him.
Ezekiel felt a pang of guilt. He had clearly woken her.
"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I've brought some materials I hoped Lady Somia might be interested in purchasing."
Her eyes scanned him quickly, lingering on the faint shimmer of his status aura. She blinked once, and her drowsy gaze sharpened with interest. The corner of her lips curved into a knowing smile.
"You're not as simple as you look," she said, her voice now carrying a mysterious undertone. "Come in."
She stepped aside, and Ezekiel entered, murmuring his thanks despite his confusion over her choice of words. Though Somia didn't seem keen on elaborating.
The interior of the shop expanded around him in defiance of physical space. From outside, the building had looked like a cramped hut.
Inside, it was a sprawling alchemical emporium—shelves upon shelves lined with vials, powders, charms, and arcane reagents. Crystals glowed faintly in floating lanterns. The air smelled of mint, myrrh, and something more ancient.
He paused, taking it all in.
"Spatial expansion magic," he muttered under his breath.
Somia smirked as she watched him absorb the sight. "Take your time. Everyone reacts like this on their first visit."
Ezekiel snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat, feeling a little embarrassed. He turned back toward her with a sheepish expression. "Forgive me, Lady Somia. The craftsmanship here is... breathtaking."
"Flattery won't get you a better price," she said with a teasing lilt. "Now then, what have you brought?"
Without delay, Ezekiel retrieved several stacks of raw wolf meat and bleached bones from his inventory, placing them neatly on the counter. The preservation effect on the inventory had kept them pristine—fresh blood still clung to the edges.
Somia examined them silently. Her fingers grazed the meat, then tapped along the bone ridges, thoughtful.
He waited patiently.
Finally, she looked up. "Ten silvers. Final offer."
Ezekiel blinked.
That was more than what he had expected.
In ReLife's economy, 1 copper equated to 1 credit in real life, and 100 coppers amounted to 1 silver.
Thus, ten silvers equated to 1,000 credits in real life. According to standard market rates, this haul should have fetched him nine silvers and 4 coppers—2 coppers per wolf bone and 5 coppers per wolf meat—certainly not ten.
Before he could respond, her gaze narrowed.
"You should know," she said, frowning slightly, "I'm offering you more than market value. Don't be a greedy little pig." She seemed to have misunderstood his silence as displeasure.
Startled, Ezekiel raised his hands in protest. "Not at all! I didn't mean to offend. I'm more than satisfied—it's just… more generous than I expected."
Somia laughed—an unexpectedly light, bell-like sound that echoed like wind chimes in a breeze.
"Then we're fine. Consider it an investment." Her eyes twinkled. "I have a feeling you'll be selling me much rarer things soon. I'll be haggling with you then. Be sure to give me some face when the time comes."
Ezekiel smiled helplessly. "Then I accept your generosity with gratitude."
With a flick of her wrist, the materials vanished, along with the bloodstains they had left on the counter. In their place sat ten shining silver coins.
He placed a hand over the coins and they disappeared from the counter, only to show up as available funds on his system screen. He then requested politely. "If I may, I'd like to purchase some Health potions as well. Twenty, if you please."
Somia raised a brow but didn't question it. With another wave of her hand, twenty slim vials containing a deep red liquid materialized midair before settling neatly into a cloth-lined box.
"That'll be one silver and eighty copper."
Ezekiel paid without hesitation. The box of potions smoothly slid into his inventory.
He bowed low. "Thank you again."
Somia inclined her head, pleased with the young man in front of her. "Do try not to get yourself killed."
Ezekiel's next stop was a small booth operated by a Storage Vendor just down the road. For forty copper, he purchased a starter storage extension—twenty-five extra slots, bound to his character. The vendor, a dwarf with a thick accent and an even thicker beard, barely glanced at him before finalizing the deal.
Then, weaving through the crowd, Ezekiel made his way to the smithy at the heart of the square. It was the busiest in Fwerah, with rows of players bartering, shouting, and waving copper coins around like they were at an auction.
He hadn't intended to buy another weapon. But now, as he reflected on the risks ahead, caution won out. He may have grown up learning several styles of martial arts, but swordsmanship wasn't one of them.
I'm not a swordsman. I don't have the muscle memory, the rhythm. But with a dagger…
He flexed his hand experimentally.
…all I need is one clean strike.