The streets of Aridale buzzed with life, merchants shouting, carts clattering, and the aroma of exotic herbs filling the air. Harold Vale walked briskly, his eyes scanning every shop window, every sign, hoping to find the one place that sold the ingredients he needed to awaken a titan.
He had no idea how expensive they would be. After all, rare ingredients weren't called rare for nothing. He had spent his last blood stones on gifts for Veronica—gifts that had bought nothing but her indifference. And now, with the Monkey King slumbering inside him, waiting to stir, he had no choice but to act.
Finally, he spotted the shop: "Eldric's Rare Ingredients & Mana Crystals". The wooden sign above the door swung slightly in the breeze, etched with gold lettering that gleamed in the sunlight. He pushed the door open, and the faint chime of a bell echoed inside.
The shop was cramped but filled with shelves stacked high with jars of herbs, glowing stones, and vials of swirling liquid. Every surface shimmered with magical energy. Harold's heart raced. This was it—the first step to awakening.
He approached the counter, his hand brushing over a jar filled with a faintly glowing powder. The shopkeeper, an elderly man with a hooked nose and sharp eyes, eyed him skeptically.
"What are you looking for, boy?" the man asked.
Harold took a deep breath. "Ingredients for titan awakening… the Monkey King."
The man's eyebrows shot up. "The Monkey King? You can't even hope to touch something that powerful unless—" He paused, glancing at Harold's pale, thin frame, "—you're ready to pay a king's ransom."
Harold blinked. "How much?"
The shopkeeper's eyes gleamed. "Three hundred thousand blood stones."
Harold froze. His heart stopped. Three hundred thousand. Three hundred thousand! His pockets were empty. Not a single stone remained. He had spent everything… on Veronica. Every last coin. Every last blood stone. Gone.
He felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. He had no idea what to do. Swallowing hard, he tried to explain, but the words caught in his throat. He looked around, desperate, imagining he could perhaps find some hidden stash somewhere.
"I—I can't…," he muttered, turning toward the door.
"Out, boy?" the shopkeeper grunted. "Can't afford it? Then scram. Don't waste my time."
Harold's hand lingered on the door handle. His shoulders slumped. He almost left defeated. Almost…
Then the door swung open again, letting in a burst of sunlight. A familiar voice called out, calm and melodic.
"Harold?"
He froze. Lysandra. She strode into the shop, her violet eyes scanning the room until they settled on him. Her presence seemed to light up the dim space. Harold felt a jolt of both relief and embarrassment.
"Lysandra…" he said softly, turning toward her. "What are you—"
She raised a hand, stopping him. "I heard you came here," she said, walking closer, "and I thought you might need help."
Harold's lips parted, but no words came out. He could feel his face turning red. Asking her for help—asking her for blood stones—was something he never imagined he'd do. She came from wealth and power. She could refuse, and he wouldn't blame her.
"I…" Harold hesitated. "I need… the ingredients to awaken a titan. But… I don't have enough blood stones."
Lysandra's eyes softened, and she smiled faintly. "How much do you need?"
Harold swallowed hard. "Maybe… a hundred thousand?" His voice barely above a whisper. "I know it's a lot… I understand if you can't…"
To his surprise, Lysandra reached into her pouch and produced a small, shining stack of blood stones. "Here. One hundred thousand."
Harold's jaw dropped. "Y-you… really?"
She nodded. "I believe in you. It's not a gift; it's an investment in someone worth believing in."
He hesitated, then spoke again, voice barely audible. "Then… maybe another hundred thousand?"
Lysandra raised an eyebrow, amused. "Another hundred thousand?"
Harold nodded, shamefaced. "I… I'm sorry. I just… I need them."
Lysandra smiled and handed him the stones. "Take it. Consider it done."
Harold's eyes widened. His heart raced. He had now received two hundred thousand blood stones from her, and he still didn't dare ask for the final hundred. But he knew he had to.
"…And… the last hundred thousand?" he whispered, almost too shy to speak.
Lysandra's grin widened. "Of course." She handed him the final stack. "Three hundred thousand blood stones. All yours."
Harold's hands shook as he clutched the stones. His face burned with a mix of gratitude, embarrassment, and disbelief. "I… I'll pay you back," he said hurriedly, voice firm despite his shyness.
"Don't worry about it," Lysandra said lightly. "Just use them well."
The transaction complete, Harold hurried through the shop, clutching the ingredients like treasure. He didn't dare look back—he was afraid the moment would vanish if he did. Outside, the wind hit him, cool and bracing. For the first time in days, he felt a spark of hope.
Behind him, Lysandra's butler appeared, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure about giving out three hundred thousand blood stones, Miss Lysandra?"
Lysandra laughed softly, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "Three hundred thousand? Please," she said, her voice tinged with pride and amusement. "My family could buy the entire city and still have more blood stones left over. Harold Vale? He's worth it."
The butler sighed, shaking his head, but Lysandra merely smiled. She had always had confidence—and now she had given Harold the chance to rise.
Harold looked at the ingredients, the weight of his responsibility finally sinking in. This was more than just an awakening. This was a chance to prove, once and for all, that the failures of yesterday didn't define him.
And somewhere deep within him, the pulse of the Monkey King stirred.