“Who was that deity?” I asked once the heavy aura finally dissipated and only V, Aurelion, and I remained.
I expected V to dodge the question. I fully anticipated he would tell me that revealing information about other clients was against God of Merchants’ policy, unless I paid the appropriate price, of course. But to my surprise, he answered immediately.
“They are one of the Netherworld deities. They bear the title of a Marquess,” V said. “Your Lordship, we apologize for the incident. To show our sincerity, we will not charge you for guiding you through the Pantheon. I will take you anywhere you wish, even to those merchants who refuse to partner with us.”
I nodded, reluctantly.
My plan had been to force him to pay for the glaive I wanted to buy. It would have been a fair trade for endangering a customer. But he had taken the initiative. If I demanded the weapon now, after he had already waived his fees, I would look petty.
There was no actual damage done, anyway. Besides, what could one glaive possibly cost? I could create one myself by spending 20 Divinity Points…
…
The marketplace was much grander than I expected. Unlike the lobby, there was no mist here to create an illusion of scale - it was vast on its own merit.
The floor was paved with stone, mostly gray, with a single brown line cutting through the center before branching off into different paths. Above it all stretched a giant arch of living wood. The trunk was carved, though it was done so masterfully that it looked as if the wood had grown naturally into the shapes of various races and beasts, most of which I couldn’t recognize. Orbs of silver light hovered along the sides of the path, illuminating wooden benches etched with strange symbols.
They were all empty.
What kind of god would sit on a bench?
I was curious who had designed this place. No matter how I looked at it, save for the floating luminous orbs, the marketplace looked like it would fit perfectly on Earth.
Were they human like me?
I couldn’t find any other explanation. Either that, or they must’ve loved the way mortals lived.
“The marketplace… here, you can find anything you want. And sometimes, you find things you didn’t even know you needed. Weapons, blueprints for different buildings, manuals for specific branches of magic…” V continued, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, clearly enjoying the topic.
Blueprints…
When entering the marketplace, I had assumed there would only be things useful for war. Weapons, armor, or at the very least, nothing that mortals could use. But blueprints? Manuals about magic?
I was starting to rethink the entire concept I had formed in my mind about gods and their world.
After seeing the Goddess’s memory of her death, I had decided that all gods were constantly at each other’s throats. The encounter with the Night God had only reinforced that conclusion.
But if gods really traded with each other in this manner, producing merchandise and following the laws… perhaps it wasn’t that different from the mortal realm. Capitalism apparently transcended divinity.
“Who are selling them? Deities?” I asked, cutting him off when I realized he was planning to list every single item available in the realm.
“Of course, Your Lordship.” V bowed theatrically and gestured toward a building in the distance. It had a small fountain in front of it where dozens of tiny mermaids swam in circles. “I’ll introduce you to one of the best blacksmiths you will ever meet!”
Based on how hard he was selling it, swinging his arms and raising his voice, I could tell he was building up to something. Something I wouldn’t like.
“But,” he said, lowering his hands, “just like all other artisans, this one is also stubborn. So please don’t take offense, Your Lordship.”
“And what do you gain by bringing me there?” I asked.
I wanted to know exactly how much the prices would be inflated. There was no chance an avatar of the God of Merchants wasn’t taking a cut.
“Only 10%, your lordship,” V grinned, revealing his needle-like teeth. “But, because of what happened earlier, we won’t be taking it.”
I nodded and flew toward the building.
The old wooden door was riddled with holes carved into specific shapes - a crescent moon, a sun, a snowflake… It looked like something from a nursery rather than a place where a grumpy blacksmith worked. My first impression wasn't great. Mermaids in the fountain outside and a door filled with holes…
But the moment I crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted.
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The walls were lined with shining steel. Weapons hung from every available surface or leaned against heavy wooden racks that groaned under the weight. It was a chaotic, metallic forest - a paradise for anyone who found comfort in the means of violence.
Aurelion certainly did.
The moment he stepped into the shop, his demeanor changed. His eyes darted from a heavy glaive to a leaner one, tracking the edges and the balance. He tried to hide his excitement, forcing himself to stay close to me, but he wasn’t the best actor.
I, however, noticed something else entirely.
None of them are meant for mages or non-physical fighters.
I scanned the racks thoroughly. There were no staffs, no wands, no enchanted accessories, not even bows or crossbows. It was nothing but heavy, cold steel designed to cut, crush, and pierce. Perhaps that was a good sign; a blacksmith who specialized only in one type of weaponry likely knew how to craft them.
But that thought vanished the moment I saw the person V was talking to.
A little girl with golden blond hair stood near one of the giant axes. She wore a scarlet ribbon in her hair and looked human - painfully young, perhaps no older than ten.
“I haven’t seen you for so long, Lady Cecilia,” V said.
He bowed low and produced a small bouquet of flowers from thin air. It was modest in size, though the vibrant colors made up for it.
The girl smiled faintly. She accepted the bouquet with small, delicate hands, bringing it to her nose to sniff. A second later, her face wrinkled, and she sneezed.
I feel like I’m in one of those stories where the master artisan is underestimated because of their appearance.
I had to force myself to look past the ribbon, the size and the sneeze. I kept reminding myself that in this place, appearance meant nothing. She was a deity. She could be older than my entire civilization and quite possibly the deadliest thing in this room.
“Lady Cecilia.” V stepped to the side so she could see me. “This is my dearest customer, and they wish to purchase a weapon.”
The girl walked toward me, though her approach was anything but graceful. She stopped twice, her small body convulsing as she sneezed into her hands. When she finally reached me, she craned her neck and stared directly where my face would be if a spectral body had one.
Can she see through it?
Before the silence could turn uncomfortable, she pulled her gaze away, turning her attention to Aurelion.
“What kind of weapon do you need?” she asked, finally done studying my Angel.
So no ‘Your Lordship’ or ‘Your Highness’…
I had gotten used to being addressed as an almighty being. For once, being treated like a regular customer felt strange. Almost insulting.
“A glaive,” I responded.
“Are you sure?” she asked, tilting her head. “Your Angel’s physique… it isn’t right for that. His shoulders and the length of his fingers…”
She spaced out, tapping a short, chubby finger against her cheek. She scanned the room quickly, her eyes darting across the racks of steel.
“Yes, he would be best with this!” She pointed at a trident shimmering with a deep green light.
“No, thank you,” I responded without hesitation.
I didn’t care about her assessment. Due to the limitations, a glaive was the only weapon Aurelion would ever be able to wield effectively.
“I need a glaive.”
She stared at me, her brows knitting together as she sulked. Her lower lip jutted out in genuine annoyance.
“V, this customer doesn’t want to listen!” she whined, pointing a finger at me.
For all my patience, I was getting frustrated. Not only did this artisan look nothing like a blacksmith, but her attitude was also an issue. I was here to buy a weapon, not argue with a child.
“I’ll call Grandpa!” she yelled when V merely shrugged instead of backing her up.
She spun around and stomped through the door behind the counter, slamming it shut behind her.
“Your Lordship,” V said, stepping forward as he likely sensed my irritation. “The girl is a little uptight. But her grandfather is the best blacksmith you can find, please trust me!”
I froze.
“The blacksmith is her grandfather?” I asked instinctively.
“Of course,” V responded, looking puzzled by my question.
I chose to remain silent and waited for the man to appear. My mood, however, had instantly improved.
Why did I assume that she was the blacksmith rather than just a kid playing in the shop?
I had no answer. My standards had drastically changed since arriving in this world. In my past life, I was a skeptic who questioned everything. But here, surrounded by the impossible, I had started believing that even the most absurd things could easily happen. I had been ready to accept a ten-year-old master artisan without a second thought.
The door behind the counter suddenly opened and a man wearing a white apron walked in. He looked around, his shining golden eyes scanning the room.
“V, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t bring customers. You only contract annoying gods.”
He shot a glare toward me. Then, his eyes shifted to Aurelion, narrowing as he studied my Angel.
“Hmm. This is a problem,” he muttered.
“If you don’t want to sell me a weapon, just say so.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “V, I asked you to take me to a master artisan, not to people who insult their visitors!”
I turned and flew toward the exit.
Clang.
The weapons on the walls suddenly trembled, vibrating violently against their hooks.
I turned back toward the blacksmith. Aurelion was already in front of me, his fists raised, ready for combat.
“We do not insult our customers!” the man growled. “Had you taken the trident my granddaughter suggested, I’d have given it to you for free. Together with the glaive your Angel needs.”
The trembling stopped instantly. The silence that followed was abrupt. The man straightened, sighing.
“It is the first weapon she made three years ago. She swore to never forge anything else until that one is sold…”
He stopped mid-sentence. The exit door behind me unlatched and opened on its own.
“Leave.”
I didn’t need him to repeat it. Despite his explanation, I wasn’t feeling apologetic at all.
“You can win one of the glaives I’ve forged in the arena. It’s one of the prizes of the current competition,” he said as he turned his back on us, waving his hand dismissively.
“You wouldn’t be able to afford my services anyway.”