The stalls stretched beneath the silver veil of the moon, illuminated by magical lanterns that made the merchandise shimmer.
It was impossible not to feel excited. Everything about that place felt like something straight out of a fantasy tale: masked passersby, vendors loudly praising their wares, and the aroma of freshly brewed potions mixing in the air.
Weapons, elixirs, artifacts, conveniences… the black market had everything.
Before coming here, I had already made a mental list of what I needed: food, potions, medicine, and basic supplies, enough to survive inside a dungeon for at least seven days.
My problem was space.
The Ouroboros necklace I carried had a capacity of one cubic meter, roughly the size of a fairly large crate. But considering the amount of supplies, the space would quickly become scarce. And worst of all, I wouldn't be able to store the bodies of the monsters I defeated.
That alone made the trip almost pointless.
Yeah… this Mana Leakage Syndrome really sucks.
Still, everything has a silver lining, and I had discovered a particularly interesting one.
While I was lost in thought, a small stall caught my attention. It was set slightly apart, with little movement around it, displaying bluish stones atop a dark velvet table. I immediately recognized what it was by the sign:
"Mana Stone Opening."
I already knew the concept.
These stones were ores extracted from dungeons with high magical concentration. On rare occasions, a mana core would form inside them, which could be sold for a hefty sum.
In practice, it was a lottery: you paid to open a stone and hoped to get lucky.But the odds were so low that almost no one ever profited from it. Still, addiction to the possibility of winning drew in compulsive gamblers… a game of chance disguised as commerce.
— Hello there, kid. Care to test your luck? — asked the vendor, an old man with a hunched back and a gentle smile, wearing a mask that concealed his eyes.
Normally, I would never place my chips on something like that. But this was the perfect moment to test my theory.
In front of me were a dozen identical stones, same appearance, smell, texture, vibrations. Not even my sharpened senses could distinguish one from another.And yet… there was something.
A different ripple.
Mana detection wasn't common in this world, not even among the strongest. Maybe there existed some rare ability that allowed it, but I had never heard of anyone capable of such a feat, neither in the original work nor here.What I felt wasn't mana, but rather its absence.
Among all the stones, one in the upper-left corner seemed to contain a strange void, a hollow within the material itself. Recently, I had realized I could sense this in things with high magical energy concentration.
Professor Donna herself, for example, someone whose presence I could "feel" even without seeing her.
That's when I understood. This was connected to my syndrome.
Because of the constant mana leakage, my body seemed to have developed an inverted sensory reflex, an ability to perceive the void left by mana, rather than mana itself.
Like an asthmatic who, from constantly lacking air, becomes sensitive to even the slightest change in pressure.
A biological response to deficiency… that ended up producing a unique ability.
I called it "Reverse Sensitivity." Sounds good, doesn't it?
Without hesitation, I pointed at the stone in the corner. The old man calmly picked it up and placed it into a cutting machine that resembled a handmade laser.
A beam of light passed through the stone, and in the next instant, a bluish glow flooded the stall. The murmurs stopped. Even the vendor held his breath.
There, at the center of the split rock, lay a small blue sphere the size of a marble, a Mineral Mana Core.
They were inferior versions of the natural cores found in monsters: they produced less energy and were more common, but still valuable.
I had paid 1,000 U to open the stone… and walked away with something worth at least 20,000 U.
Not bad.
But the true potential of my Reverse Sensitivity… was still to come.And it would be inside the dungeon that it would truly show what it was capable of.
After leaving the mana stone stall, I continued through the black market's narrow alleys. The streets twisted and curved, bathed in purple lights, glowing signs written in languages I didn't recognize, and the heavy scent of metal, oil, and magical herbs.
With my mental list in hand, I started with the basics: supplies, dried food, healing potions, medicine. The essentials for seven days of dungeon exploration.
After buying everything, I decided to look for artifacts, or just something interesting.
I began to wander aimlessly, letting my eyes scan the cluttered merchandise. There was everything: elixirs promising passive regeneration, amulets for better sleep, rings that supposedly enhanced mental focus…
Most of it was intriguing, but nothing caught my attention enough to spend my hard-earned money.
Until a distinct glow, purple and pulsing, caught my eye.
In the corner of a nearly forgotten stall rested a small violet glass vial, adorned with golden ribbons intertwining like serpents. There was something hypnotic about it, an aura of contained power, almost organic, as if the liquid inside were alive.
Below the vial, an identification plate engraved with silver letters read:
Name: Basilisk Venom
Type: Utility
Classification: C
A potent venom extracted from the fangs of a Rank S Basilisk. Lethal upon contact with the bloodstream.
Capable of killing an adult man within minutes and temporarily paralyzing highly resistant creatures.
— Oh… — I murmured, unable to suppress a low whistle.
It was far more valuable than it looked. Not the kind of thing you found just anywhere. Dangerous, yes, but in the right hands, it could mean the difference between life and death.
The confirmation came right below:
Price: 8,000 U.
Basically… everything I had.
It was far too high a price to pay for a bottle of poison, and yet, for some reason, I couldn't walk away.
Something inside me told me it would be useful. Maybe it was intuition, maybe paranoia, but I chose to trust it.
"If things get ugly, this might save my life," I thought, handing over the money and carefully storing the vial inside the Ouroboros necklace.
Even with my funds nearly depleted, I continued wandering, now just observing.The deeper I went, the more the stalls seemed to change in nature, cooler colors, deadlier merchandise.
That was when a metallic sound made me stop: the unmistakable echo of a blade being drawn.
Following the sound, I found a shop that, unlike the others, displayed no signs or magical fragrances. The smell there was burned iron and coal, a blacksmith.
The interior was a chaotic mess of metal and embers. Swords, spears, shields, and armor were scattered everywhere, hanging from hooks or stacked in crates.
I scanned several pieces. Some had good material and decent balance, but nothing truly impressed me… until something did.
At the back of the shop, mounted on a dark wooden stand, a katana stood out among the rest.
From a distance, it seemed to emit a faint silvery reflection, a cold, almost ethereal glow. The scabbard was black, marked with white lines interwoven in a damask pattern.
The handle, wrapped in pale fabric, had impeccable craftsmanship, and the guard resembled a snowflake.
I tried to grab it, but the stand was too high.
— Urgh… — I muttered, stretching up on my toes to no avail.
A sigh came from somewhere.
The blacksmith, a large man with a graying beard and a scorched apron, walked over and, without a word, removed the sword from the stand. With a casual motion, he tossed it into my hands.
"How humiliating…"
I thought, though the discomfort vanished the moment my fingers closed around the hilt.
The sensation was perfect.
Impeccable balance. Weight distributed as if the blade had been forged specifically for me.
With a soft swoosh, I drew the katana.
The air itself seemed to split around the blade, so sharp that the sound resembled wind slicing through ice.
The surface of the blade was completely white, reflecting the lantern light as if it emitted its own glow.
Near the guard, engraved in black kanji, were two simple characters:
"Yuki-onna (Snow Maiden)"
A beautiful name. Melancholic, yet serene.
"Click."
I sheathed the blade with a clean motion, the dry sound echoing through the shop.The blacksmith, who had been watching in silence, raised an eyebrow, perhaps surprised by how naturally I handled the weapon.
— What's the price? — I asked.
— Twenty-two thousand. — he replied without hesitation.
Expensive, but fair.
Given the quality the blade displayed, the price made sense. Besides, I truly needed a new weapon. For obvious reasons, I couldn't exactly walk out of the academy carrying Lock's katana.
I rummaged through my pockets, thinking of how to solve the problem.That was when I felt something cold touch my hand.
A small mana orb, softly glowing blue like a heart made of light.
— Does this cover it? — I asked, extending the orb.
The blacksmith took it, examined it for a few moments under the lantern light, and finally nodded.
— Yes… that will do.
Deal sealed.
I left the shop with a discreet smile and Snow Maiden hanging at my waist.
The weight of the blade was reassuring.
As I disappeared into the winding streets of the black market, a strange sensation followed me.
The first great challenge was approaching, and I had to be ready.