The market of Veyra didn't just hum with life—it roared. Carts rattled across stone streets, sailors hollered about their wares fresh off the docks, and spice smoke curled in the air so thick it nearly made me sneeze.
"This…" I whispered, eyes wide as we pushed into the throng, "is heaven. Or a death trap. Possibly both."
Lyra tugged her hood tighter, ears hidden, eyes flicking across the crowd for threats. "Both. Definitely both."
I ignored her warning—mostly—because everywhere I looked, my Appraisal pinged like a slot machine. Exotic metals glimmering with mana conductivity, enchanted glass lenses humming with faint resonance, even treated woods stronger than steel if properly reinforced. Each discovery sent my thoughts racing.
One stall displayed polished iron rods banded with quartz. Appraisal: Conductive Alloy. Potential: Long-range Mana Channeling. My brain short-circuited. That's… that's the spine of a railgun. Oh, this city is going to regret me.
Lyra caught me staring too long and elbowed me. "Don't. You'll blow up the inn before the week's over."
"Not if I make it portable," I muttered, already sketching diagrams in my head. A shoulder-mounted mana railgun, powered by quartz batteries, firing bolts faster than any bow. It was insane. Dangerous. Perfect.
But invention dreams had to wait. We stopped at smaller stalls first. I haggled for scrap metals, bundled herbs, and a pouch of powdered resin—perfect for insulation when combined with copper. Every purchase made my waist bag heavier, though thanks to its hidden storage, no one noticed.
Or so I thought.
By midday, the crowd seemed to part around us. Rival merchants leaned from their stalls, whispering behind their hands, eyes sharp and calculating. I'd seen this before—the moment someone realized a newcomer wasn't just a buyer, but a threat.
One particularly greasy man in violet silks leaned forward, voice dripping like oil. "Innovations, stranger? Tools that seem… ahead of their time? You'll find that Veyra has rules for such things. Best you sell under our banner—or don't sell at all."
Lyra's hand twitched toward her dagger, but before she could escalate, another voice cut in.
"Now, now," said a deep, commanding tone. A man stepped from the docks into the market—a broad-shouldered, sun-weathered figure in a captain's coat trimmed with gold thread. His beard was neat, his boots polished, but his eyes… his eyes were sharp as any predator's.
He smiled, not at Lyra, not at the rival merchants, but at me. "You. The one with the bag of tricks. I saw you appraising those rods. You know their worth, don't you?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "I… might?"
The captain's grin widened. "Good. Then perhaps you'd like a partnership. I command ships that sail farther than most men dream, and I'm always seeking men who can create. Especially things that others can't even imagine."
The greasy merchant scowled but backed off with a hiss, clearly not wanting to cross a captain of the docks. Lyra stiffened at my side, whispering, "This is dangerous."
"Yeah," I whispered back, heart pounding as possibilities spun in my head. "Dangerous… but profitable."
And for the first time, I wondered if my inventions weren't just survival tools. Maybe they could be the foundation of something far bigger—an empire of circuits and storms.