Plunging into the crowd of the Night Market was like diving into an ocean of nightmares. The air was thick and heavy, a suffocating mix of sulfur, sweet incense, and the metallic tang of old blood. His aura scanner was having a meltdown, the screen flashing with a cacophony of colors and labels: INFERNAL, ETHEREAL, CONSTRUCT, and several others he didn't recognize, all overlapping in an illegible chaos. Every glow was a warning, every label a potential threat.
He felt the stares on him, curious and hungry. He was the only mortal there, a beacon of warm flesh and a vibrant soul in a place of decay and eternity. His mortality was an exotic perfume in this place, attracting the attention of beings who hadn't felt the pulse of blood in millennia. He was an anomaly, and in the Night Market, anomalies were either an opportunity or prey.
Leo kept his head down, trying to look insignificant, a difficult task when his very existence was an aberration. He passed a stall where a demon blacksmith, with muscles that looked like volcanic rock, was hammering a sword that wept tears of fire, each impact echoing like a cry of pain. At another, a succubus sold vials of stolen dreams, each one glowing with a promise of ecstasy or terror, her eyes promising more than the vials contained. He needed to understand the rules, the currency. His wealth in Karma Points was useless here; it was like trying to use a credit card in a lost tribe.
He stopped near a discreet exchange, hidden behind a pillar of bone. A ghost, its chest pierced by an ethereal sword wound that still dripped pale light, offered an oily-smiled devil a small, shimmering orb of light. "The memory of my first kiss," the ghost whispered, its voice a rustle of dry leaves. "Never used. Pure and untainted."
The devil took the orb, brought it to his lips as if it were a rare glass of wine, and inhaled its light with a sigh of pleasure. "Delicious. Full of naive hope and a bittersweet potential." In return, he gave the ghost a small dagger made of solidified darkness. "A Blade of Forgetting. To sever the ties that still bind you to your murderer. A fair trade."
Leo moved away, his blood running cold. The currency here wasn't credits or Karma Points. It was emotions. Memories. Pieces of the soul itself. What did he have to offer? His memories were of debt, sleepless nights, and the smell of cold food. Who would want to buy the memory of his paralyzing anxiety or the quiet desperation of a failing business?
He carries many stories for such a short life.
Charon's voice came back to him, not as a memory, but as a truth he hadn't yet understood. His stories. His experience with Ignis. His duel with Kael. They were unique. They weren't just memories of emotions; they were complete narratives, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. Maybe... maybe his experiences were his only currency.
He needed information. A secret to use against the Syndicate. He began to search for a stall that didn't sell artifacts or weapons, but something more intangible. He found it in a dark, forgotten corner of the market, far from the main noise, on a floating dock that creaked mournfully.
The stall was simple, made of dark, polished wood, and behind it sat a figure composed of swirling smoke and shadows. Within the smoke, countless eyes opened and closed, each one observing a different direction, blinking out of sync. A sign, written in letters that seemed to change language every time Leo blinked, hovered above the stall: "The Whisper Broker - All Truths Have a Price".
Leo took a deep breath, the foul air filling his lungs, and approached. The dock's floor tilted under his weight.
"I'm looking for information," he said, his voice sounding weak in the heavy air.
The smoke-figure turned to him, and all its myriad eyes focused on Leo. Its voice was a chorus of whispers, the sound of a thousand secrets being told at once, entering directly into his mind.
"I need a way to fight the Syndicate," Leo said, his voice gaining a little more strength. "A weakness. A loophole. Anything."
The Whisper Broker seemed to ponder, its smoke billowing slowly.
"My story," Leo said, his voice gaining confidence. "The story of how I beat Kael. An elite courier from 'Cosmic Grub.' An independent who used chaos to defeat order. It's a new story. One the Syndicate doesn't want told."
The eyes in the smoke blinked with interest.
"Then what do you want?" Leo asked, his stomach twisting into a knot.
The Broker leaned forward, its form solidifying slightly, its whispers focusing into a single, chilling proposal.
*
Leo recoiled, horrified. To sell a piece of his future? To surrender the very emotional reward of his struggle? It was a monstrous price. It was like winning a war and feeling nothing but the void.
As he wrestled with the impossible decision, a cold, familiar voice cut through the air behind him.
"Bargaining with a future you likely won't have, amateur?"
Leo turned slowly. Kael stood there, a few feet away, his ice-blue eyes gleaming in the market's ghostly light. He didn't look angry. He looked... amused. The crowd of demons and spirits parted for him, a reluctant respect granted not to his strength, but to his reputation for ruthless efficiency.
"What are you doing here?" Leo asked, his hand instinctively clenching into a fist.
"The same as you, apparently," Kael said, his gaze flicking to the Whisper Broker with professional disdain. "Looking for an edge. The Syndicate doesn't like failures. My loss in the duel has stained my perfect record. I need something to clean it." He looked back at Leo, a predatory smile forming on his face. "And it seems I've found it. The Syndicate would pay well for a renegade agent. Perhaps I don't need to bargain with the Broker after all. Your capture would be a much more... tangible victory."