I woke up the next morning feeling like I'd been run over by a lorry. My muscles ached, my eyes were gritty, and the real world seemed dull and grey compared to the vibrant chaos of Zenith Online. A strong cup of tea helped to alleviate the worst of it, and soon enough, I was logging back in, eager to continue my adventure (and my relentless grind).
I materialised back in the clearing, the sounds of the Silverwood Plains immediately washing over me. Today, I decided, I needed a proper weapon. Whacking hyenas with my bare hands and the occasional stolen claw wasn't exactly a viable long-term strategy.
According to my map, the nearest settlement was a small trading post called Oakhaven, a few hours' trek to the west. The journey was uneventful, mostly consisting of me avoiding packs of increasingly aggressive creatures and plundering the occasional plant for some minor stat boosts.
Oakhaven was less a town and more a collection of ramshackle buildings huddled around a muddy square. A few players milled about, examining wares displayed on makeshift stalls or haggling with the rough-looking merchants. The place had a distinct air of desperation, a frontier town on the edge of something wild and untamed.
The first stall I approached was piled high with rusty-looking swords, dented shields, and other bits of battered equipment. The merchant, a burly man with a thick beard and a suspicious eye, grinned at me with yellowed teeth.
"Looking for some proper kit, are you, lad?" he rasped, his voice like gravel. "You won't find anything better this side of the Dragon's Tooth, I guarantee it."
I eyed his wares dubiously. "These look… well-used," I said, trying to be diplomatic.
"Used is just another word for 'pre-tested'," the merchant chuckled. "And for a strapping lad like yourself, I've got just the thing."
He reached under the stall and pulled out a longsword, its blade dull and nicked, its hilt wrapped in worn leather. It looked like it had seen better centuries.
"This beauty," the merchant declared, holding it up with a flourish, "is a 'Sword of Might +1'. It'll cleave through goblins like butter, it will."
'+1'? I'd seen those notations before in online guides. It meant the weapon had a slight bonus to attack power. But this sword looked like it would break if I swung it too hard.
"How much?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face.
"For you, my friend," the merchant said, winking, "a mere 500 silver."
500 silver? I nearly choked. I had barely 20 silver to my name. I'd been so focused on levelling and plundering that I hadn't bothered to collect any loot.
"That's… a bit out of my price range," I said, edging away from the stall.
"Alright, alright," the merchant grumbled. "For you, because you look like a discerning customer, I'll let it go for 450."
I shook my head. "I don't even have 50."
The merchant sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I can see you're a hard bargainer. Tell you what, I'll trade it to you for that… interesting skill of yours."
He gestured vaguely in my direction, a knowing glint in his eye. My blood ran cold. Could he… could he sense my Plundering Genesis God skill? I thought it was invisible, undetectable.
"What are you talking about?" I stammered, my heart hammering in my chest.
The merchant chuckled again, a dry, rasping sound. "Don't play coy with me, lad. I've seen your type before. You've got that glint in your eye, that… potential. A skill like that is worth far more than any rusty sword."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell you what. I'll give you the sword, and I'll even throw in a decent set of armour, for… a small taste of your power."
I was trapped. He somehow knew about my skill, and he wasn't going to let me leave without getting something out of it. But what did he want? And how much was he willing to take?
A desperate plan formed in my mind. I couldn't let him have the full skill, but maybe… maybe I could give him a watered-down version, something temporary, something… useless.
I focused on the merchant, my mind racing. He had a few skills listed: Haggling (C-Rank), Appraise (D-Rank), and… strangely… "Back Scratch" (F-Rank). Back Scratch? Seriously?
I smirked inwardly. This was perfect.
"Alright," I said, trying to sound casual. "I'll make you a deal. I'll let you have… a temporary copy of one of my skills. But only one, and only for a day."
The merchant's eyes gleamed. "One skill, for a day… and the sword and armour? You've got yourself a deal, lad."
I focused on the Back Scratch skill, the absolute worst skill he had, and activated Plundering Genesis God.
"Plundering Successful! Acquired Back Scratch (G-Rank)."
I felt a faint tingle, the skill settling into my consciousness. I quickly transferred a temporary copy to the merchant.
The merchant grinned, a truly unsettling sight. "Pleasure doing business with you, lad. Here's your kit."
He tossed me the Sword of Might +1 and a set of slightly less battered leather armour. I quickly equipped them, feeling a small surge of relief. At least I was no longer fighting in rags.
I left Oakhaven as quickly as I could, the merchant's laughter echoing behind me. I'd gotten a decent weapon and some armour, but at what cost? And how had that merchant known about my skill?