At first light, Lucia and Drako had left.
The group had split up for a multitude of reasons — but most importantly, Ash was sick.
Full-blown fever sick.
She needed a couple of days to rest and recover from the arduous journey no child should ever endure.
Also, while Drako and Lucia were on a tight schedule, Vael and Kiera were not — the Academy wouldn't start for another month.
The trip to the capital from here would also be much safer.
No more wilderness.
No more wild beasts waiting for a nice, human meal.
Just endless, patrolled roads.
So, they went their separate ways.
Maybe they'd meet again.
After all, they were headed to the same place — just at a different pace.
After saying their goodbyes, Kiera and Ash went back to sleep.
Vael, however, had business to take care of.
Now that they'd reentered civilization, they desperately needed one resource they were completely lacking:
Money.
Lucky for him, he was in possession of a magical ring containing most of the belongings of a certain fat noble.
The only problem was finding someone willing to buy his stuff.
A hard task in this broke town.
When he reached the central plaza — a bare patch of dirt with a few worn-out benches — Vael spotted an exotic-looking caravan.
"Jackpot," he said, excitedly.
It seemed Lady Luck had just blown him a kiss.
What were the chances of finding a traveling merchant in this miserable dump, tucked beneath the ice-hell most people called the Alps?
While approaching the caravan, Vael mentally reviewed the contents of the ring.
A few high-mid-quality weapons.
Some books about politics.
Plates and goblets of decent craftsmanship.
And finally, a royal decree issued by the King of Sylwenne — written in a code he couldn't understand.
Obviously, offering all of it would raise suspicion.
How could a seventeen-year-old from a town this poor come across such expensive loot?
So, he'd have to omit a few items — like the decree and some of the weapons. He'd also need to play down the value of the plates and goblets.
Still, all things considered, he was about to make some money.
Hopefully.
As he approached the caravan, a question formed in Vael's mind:
Why didn't a noble like Veltren carry any gold on him?
Or rather, a lot of it?
He didn't have the first clue about noble customs, so his guess was as good as anyone's.
But for now, he shoved that thought aside.
The caravan was set up like a temporary shop, large enough to house a few people comfortably.
As Vael stepped inside, he interrupted a conversation already in progress.
"—as I was saying, that whore better pay up what she owes, or I'll—ooh! A customer? Or perhaps a vendor?"
The man who had been speaking was, Vael assumed, the traveling merchant. His clothes, though worn, were well-maintained. He stood with the posture of someone who'd built his own little empire, no matter how modest.
He looked to be in his forties. Not particularly attractive—brown hair, a slightly asymmetrical face, and a build that leaned toward skinny.
Sitting beside him was the village elder: old, wise-looking, and humble.
They were sharing a glass of something strong.
Around them were goods the villagers might need—tools, sacks of grain, candles, ropes.
"Vendor," Vael said plainly, already forming an impression of the man.
And, unfortunately for him, it wasn't a good one.
"Well then. Name's Guapo. I assume you're here to sell what's in your hands?"
"That's right," Vael replied. "I've got a few weapons, some plates and cups, and a couple of books."
"Good. Let's have a look, shall we?"
As Vael handed over the items, he caught a flicker in Guapo's eyes.
Greed.
And something else.
Not recognition—no, the man hadn't seen these items before.
But realization.
These weren't the kinds of things that showed up in poor villages such as this one.
One book was about social hierarchy, annotated in a hand far too neat to belong to a commoner.
The plates were adorned with small, embedded jewels.
The weapons varied in style and purpose—clearly not the standard fare of local hunters.
They all screamed nobility.
Guapo took a long, quiet look at the young man in front of him.
Worn coat patched in several places. Disheveled blond hair. One sharp, calculating eye—the other covered or dead.
Bags beneath his eyes. The posture of someone always on guard.
He looked like someone who'd fought battles. Survived hell.
Definitely not the son of a noble.
But Guapo shrugged.
It wasn't his business where clients got their goods.
"All right," he said. "I'll give you two gold coins for the lot. What do you say, boy?"
"Sure," Vael answered calmly.
After the exchange was made, Guapo leaned back and added with a grin,
"I'm feeling generous today. I'll let you pick one thing you want—anything—from this side of the shop."
He gestured to the left.
Vael raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He stepped over and began to browse.
On the surface, it all looked like junk.
Pitchforks. A dozen eggs. Scraps of cloth. Bags of flour. Glassware. Bottles of booze.
But then—he activated Spatial Awareness.
The world shifted.
His vision filled with outlines formed by ambient mana particles.
That's when he noticed a small box tucked behind a crate. Unlike the rest of the clutter, which barely registered at all, this one pulsed faintly.
It didn't just contain mana.
It drew mana toward it.
Vael stepped forward and reached for it.
Behind him, Guapo's mouth curled into a subtle smile.
As he opened the box, Vael deactivated his ability to get a proper look at the objects inside.
What he found, however, appeared completely ordinary.
A necklace bearing a wooden symbol, crudely carved to resemble a snake.
A glass bottle, inside which a tiny ship floated on blue-tinted water—simulating an endless ocean.
And lastly, a transparent pouch containing a single, dried-up seed.
It was… strange. Not the magical kind of strange—just odd. The items were completely random. None of them had any apparent value. Why would a merchant waste inventory space on junk like this?
Who would spend their hard-earned money on something so pointless?
"So, you've found the box, huh?" Guapo's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Well, you're in luck! I was just about to give it away to a friend of mine. But—" he gave a generous wave of the hand, "—I'll let you have it for 20 silvers. That's not counting the free item I already owe you."
It sounded too good to be true.
And it probably was.
But Vael didn't overthink it. He paid the silver and took the box.
As he left the store, he slipped the contents into his Space Pocket, the items vanishing with a subtle shimmer.
Inside, the village elder, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, finally spoke up.
"Old friend… that box. What was in it?"
Guapo paused, swirling the liquor in his glass.
"The objects?" he said with a smirk. "They're cursed, to put it simply."
The elder raised an eyebrow.
"I've had them since I first started this business—twenty-six years ago," Guapo continued. "Never sold 'em. Not once. Not even a single offer. And I've set up shop everywhere. Even in the Big City."
"That's all?" the elder asked, voice low.
Guapo leaned back and let out a humorless chuckle.
"They buy anything in the capital."