Rion eased his mask, the stale air of the upper levels a distant memory as the scent of spices and sweat hit him. He stood at the edge of the Erebus Exchange, a shiver of anticipation crawling down his spine.
Winding corridors snaked between countless stalls, each a riot of color under the soft, pulsating glow of artificial light. Banners, tattered and vibrant, fluttered overhead like moths, beckoning him deeper.
The atmosphere buzzed with a restless energy. Merchants, their voices hoarse from a day of haggling, leaned out from their booths, their calls a vibrant, chaotic symphony that washed over the crowd. Buyers moved through the throng, their faces a mixture of shrewd calculation and barely suppressed desire.
He first approached a modest shop tucked along the right-hand side of the path. Unlike the louder, flashier stalls that screamed for attention, this one exuded a quiet confidence. Its wooden façade was aged but well-maintained, the grain polished to a rich, dark sheen. Above the entrance, a sign bore an understated logo of a crescent moon and crossed keys.
Pushing open the heavy oak door, Rion stepped into the dimly lit interior. The air inside was cool and carried a faint, pleasant aroma of cedar and something floral. Shelves lined the walls, filled with carefully arranged goods that seemed to demand respect rather than scrutiny. Small brass plaques labeled each item, their script neat and unassuming.
"Looking for something specific, sir?" the shopkeeper asked, a polite smile on her face.
"Attribute-boosting techniques, mostly. Something that can provide immediate results," Rion replied.
The shopkeeper nodded knowingly. She picked up a data pad from the table and inputted some commands into it. She then handed it over to him, showing a list of the techniques they had in stock.
Although their content couldn't be browsed, there was a detailed description of each. [Iron Skin], [Eagle Sight], [Burst Step], [Iron Grip]—the names of the techniques promised a range of effects, each tempting in its own way.
Just by reading the descriptions, Rion was already feeling excited. Except for the ones that had high physical prerequisites or could only be practised by strykers, Rion wanted every technique listed in there.
"I should've arranged for more money," he muttered under his breath.
He had prepared what he thought was a substantial amount:funds from selling off old tools, furniture, and redundant belongings, supplemented by earnings from crafting weapons for Cobra's gang. On top of that, the lump sum left in the trust fund his parents had established in his name had bolstered his war chest. Yet, now that he was here, the realization struck hard: his calculations had been painfully optimistic.
"Don't you have any mid-grade techniques?" Rion asked, noticing that all the techniques presented were Low-grade.
The shopkeeper shook her head. "Mid-grade and high-grade techniques are reserved for long-term market pass holders. With a temporary pass, this is the best we can offer."
"OH..." he replied and continued browsing.
He kind of understood the rationale behind this rule. Besides, he probably couldn't afford one in the first place.
Rion scrolled through the datapad again, the descriptions of the Low-grade techniques nagging at his thoughts. Each seemed to call out to him with promises of utility and survival, but he couldn't afford them all, not without giving up his other plans.
He sighed and forced himself to prioritize on his most pressing needs.
What do I actually need?
The answer was clear: survival. His first priority had to be techniques that enhanced his ability to escape or evade. Cobra and his men weren't going to play fair if things went south, and no amount of brute strength would save him if he couldn't outmaneuver them.
The second priority was awareness. Being able to react faster and anticipate threats before they occurred would be crucial. He already had [Lesser Focus], a technique that enhanced his ability to remain composed and make quick decisions under pressure, but it wasn't perfect. If he found something better, it'd be worth considering.
Finally, there were the basics, techniques to boost his physical capabilities. Strength, endurance, and stamina could mean the difference between life and death in a prolonged fight.
With a clearer plan in mind, Rion resumed his search.
"Tell me more about the [Iron Skin] technique," he said, glancing up at the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper's lips quirked into a faint smile. "[Iron Skin] is a defensive mainstay," she replied. "It temporarily enhances the resilience of your skin, allowing you to withstand physical damage more effectively. The mental stamina required to sustain it is low, but the initial activation can be taxing if you're already fatigued."
Rion nodded slowly. The more he heard, the more convinced he became. Cobra wasn't the type to play fair. If he had to fight against him or his men, he couldn't afford to go down with a single blow.
"I'll think about it," Rion said, marking it mentally as a strong contender. His gaze returned to the datapad, asking about another technique.
The rest of the day followed a similar pattern. Store after store offered more or less the same selection of low-grade techniques, with wildly fluctuating prices depending on the shop's reputation.
Some sellers tried to upsell him on attribute-enhancing techniques but his focus was on survival and adaptability. Cobra and his gang weren't going to wait for him to slowly build his capabilities over time.
He also learned that surprisingly not all techniques were suitable for him. Of all the techniques he saw, almost half of them were only useable by strykers. When he asked for the reason why there weren't any techniques that were similarly hard locked to adepts, the shopkeeper explained that it came down to the nature of how origin abilities manifested.
It was easier to serve origin techniques for strykers as its expression was deeply tied to the unique physicality and energy output of a stryker, compared with the more variant abilities of adepts.
By late afternoon, Rion found himself sitting on a bench, his figurative wallet considerably lighter. He had finally settled on five techniques:
[Energy Training Technique III]: A more effective variant of his [Energy Training Technique I].
[Iron Skin]: For increased resistance to physical damage.
[Dash]: A burst-movement technique that allowed him to close gaps or evade attacks quickly, albeit at a steep cost to stamina and mental energy.
[Iron Grip]: Temporarily increased arm strength, useful in grappling or holding onto something under pressure. However, it came with a warning;the strain on the user's body could lead to severe muscle damage if overused.
[Combat Frenzy II]: Induces the user into a temporary state that enhances their reaction time, sharpens focus, and reduces fear.
He had also bought four Rapid Recovery potions and a whopping ten Energy Training potion. The Rapid Recovery potion would, upon ingestion, spede up the natural healing process of the body for a limited time.
As for the Energy Training potion, its use was more limited. It had to be ingested while actively using an energy training origin technique, as it worked by amplifying the body's ability to absorb and refine origin energy. The potion temporarily heightened sensitivity to origin energy, allowing cultivators to extract and integrate it at an accelerated rate.
Rion adjusted the flaps of his inner pocket, ensuring the precious data chips containing the techniques, the tiny vials containing the gene solutions and the potions were secure. He had spent a bit more than intended, but the acquisitions were worth it.
Pushing himself off the bench, he adjusted his mask and navigated deeper into the market. He had overhead that there was going to be an auction and wanted to attend, but the auction was not opened for people like him with temporary passes.
It was a shame truly. Even if he could not afford most of the items that would be displayed, he could at least enrich his understanding of this world's hidden treasures.
Oh well...
Since he could not attend this high profile event, he decided to go to a less crowded section of the Exchange. Here, the air grew thicker, the scent of iron and chemicals mingling unpleasantly.
This was where the serious traders operated, the merchants who dealt in raw materials and practical tools rather than flashy techniques or dubious potions.
The stalls in this area were utilitarian, their displays functional rather than decorative. Bundles of metallic ores, crystal shards, and spools of synthetic fibers were arranged in neat stacks. Signs posted above the booths bore precise, minimalistic labels: High-Grade Alloys and Primers, Weapons and other oddities. Each merchant appeared laser-focused, their attention split between haggling with buyers and keeping a wary eye on their stock.
Rion was scanning a selection of primers when raised voices caught his attention. He turned toward the source;a group gathered around a prominent stall. A tall man stood on a raised platform, his voice carrying an air of authority as he addressed the crowd.
"...and with The Four Horsemen, your survival isn't just a possibility, it's a guarantee!" the man boomed theatrically.
"We're discreet, efficient, and ruthless when necessary. We're not heroes, we're professionals. If you need something done, and you need it done right, then come to us."
The man dressed in a sleek, matte-black suit extolled his team's latest victories: "In case any of you heard about the recent Navarro estate kidnapping, it was my team who neutralized the threats and recovered the heir unharmed. We even brought back the family dog."
"Our services aren't for the faint-hearted," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd. "We mostly specialize in extraction and protection. If you're facing insurmountable odds, we're your last hope. But don't waste our time if you can't pay."
"What's your rate?" someone in the crowd asked hesitantly.
"Depends on the job," the leader replied. "But remember, cheap protection is no protection at all."
Rion frowned as the man continued advertising his team, his thoughts churning. Hiring mercenaries was not in his plan, but the mention of extraction and survival struck a chord. If he ever found himself cornered, perhaps there was a way to make use of their services.
Perhaps it's worth checking these guys out before I leave.
* * *
A long while later, Rion arrived back at his house safe and sound and after a short rest, went through the instructions of the five techniques.
Once he was sure he understood the basic principles, he moved to the training area and began to practice.
Unlike other rookies who could only activate a single technique at a time, his exceptional multitasking ability allowed him to utilize three techniques simultaneously, rivaling the proficiency of a more experienced cultivator.
By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat, his limbs trembling from exertion. After a much longer rest, he neatly packed his belongings, gearing up to tackle his daily responsibilities at Cobra's garage.
This continued until about a week later, he got down from the taxi, duffel bag in hand and made his way towards Cobra's garage. As he moved closer, his intuition kicked in as he felt an unsettling tension lingering in the air.
Glancing around cautiously, he spotted a figure sporting sunglasses loitering by a black, unregistered jeep parked some distance from the garage.
Rion narrowed his eyes. Something's up.
Even though the car was too far away to see precisely, it was the subtle movements of the man in shades that set off alarm bells in his mind. The man's demeanor exuded a disciplined precision, not the casual air of Cobra's usual associates.
Rion's gut feeling intensified. The man obviously wasn't one of Cobra's henchmen. The professionalism he emanated hinted at a different league. Perhaps a rival faction, or something even worse, the authorities had caught on to their tail.
He immediately felt sweat ooze out of his palms
What do I do now?
With hesitation lingering in his mind , Rion weighed his options. The mysterious man had marked him, and attempting an escape seemed like a risky gamble with uncertain consequences. Even if he somehow managed to slip away, the thought of evading these skilled individuals for long felt like an impossible task.
Doubts swirled in his thoughts, but a sense of realism took hold. In a calculated decision, Rion continued walking towards Cobra's garage. To have to reveal himself so soon had certainly not been a part of his calculations, but he was not rigid in his thinking.
Since remaining hidden was no longer an option, he might as well put his plans into motion. As he approached the entrance, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. After making sure it rang once, he cut the call and put the phone back in his pocket.
Success...
Satisfied at pulling this off with no interference, he continued towards the entrance but saw that the guards who had been relaxed a short while ago became serious once they noticed him.
Oooh.. That can't be good...
"Hol' up." One of them says as he blocks him from going in. "Boss been expecting you. Says I should bring you straight to his office once you arrive."
"Alright. Got it."
With the buff guard in tow, Rion moved through the familiar alleyways and entered the garage, moving towards the back.
"So, What's the deal?" he asked cooly as the both of them walked.
The henchman narrowed his eyes. "Not my business to say. Just watch yourself and follow me."
Yeah... These guys are definitely up to no good...
As he approached Cobra's office, he felt the watchful eyes of Rion's goons focused on him and even the usual sounds of clinking tools seemed subdued.
Stealthily putting one hand in his duffel bag, he ignored the tense atmosphere and knocked on the entrance to Cobra's office as soon as he reached.