After we left the place, V took me to a different weapon shop. He said that while the quality here was inferior, the prices were much lower. And more importantly, the owner wasn’t "difficult."
The outside of the shop was normal - a solid construction made of gray stone. Inside, the space was vast, large enough to display their collection in perfect order.
Each weapon type had its own dedicated section. I found the glaives easily, flying down the hall until I stood before a row of long-handled blades. I focused on them and tried using Guidance to check which one was better.
[Using divinity in Pantheon isn’t allowed]
The system warned me again. And I immediately felt the familiar pressure as though I was being watched. I carefully looked around but found nothing.
It looks like even an attempt triggers some kind of mechanism.
Despite the marketplace being massive, the number of deities roaming the place wasn't high. In this giant weapon shop, there was only one other spectral body aside from me. They hovered near the counter, a single silver wing on their back.
“I am looking for a magic staff that has an intelligence bonus.”
A soft, feminine voice came from the spectral body.
Huh?
I froze. All the spectral bodies I had encountered so far spoke with the exact same voice - low, distorted, and emotionless. But this one came like a morning breeze, pleasant to both the ear and the mind.
Why would she use a spectral body if she doesn’t mind revealing details about her…
I was puzzled, but then another thought crossed my mind. Perhaps the voice was fake. Maybe the deity was simply trying to pass as a goddess rather than a god.
“We have a large selection of such staves,” the shop owner responded. “It would help if you could provide a few more details.”
He was a mature man with short black hair and a well-groomed beard. He wore simple, comfortable clothes. Nothing about him stood out.
“The staff must be at least Relic tier. It should have an effect of amplifying one attack several folds. I don’t mind if the staff breaks after that,” the deity responded.
They discussed a few more details, and in the end, the owner placed two staves on the counter.
“Please explain what is the difference between the two?”
The shop owner opened a large, leather-bound book on the counter and began flipping through the pages, searching for the entries.
“There,” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together softly. “The one with the red gemstone is a single-use item. It amplifies magical attack power by five times. It costs 15,000 Divinity Points. The price is really cheap because the item will break after one use.”
15,000… cheap…
The two words echoed in my head, refusing to make sense together. That number was almost equal to my entire divinity. If that was considered cheap for a disposable item, I didn’t even want to know what a permanent weapon cost.
I glanced at Aurelion. He was fixated on a glaive that pulsed with golden light. His posture was rigid, his eyes reflecting the same hue. Suddenly, I understood exactly how my parents felt when they couldn’t afford the toy I was practically drooling over in the store window.
“The other staff costs 30,000, but it can be used three times!” the shop owner declared, his voice pitching up with sales enthusiasm.
“I’m not interested in three uses. I’ll buy the first one.” The deity shut down his excitement instantly.
The moment the decision was made, the staff vanished from the counter, likely transported straight into an inventory. I didn’t see any currency exchange, but the transaction was clearly done. The deity turned and drifted out of the shop without another word, leaving me as the sole customer.
“I want to buy a Mythic grade glaive,” I said, floating toward the counter.
I had abandoned hope for anything higher than Mythic. My budget was capped at 3,000, and even that felt like I was bleeding myself dry.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have any Mythic grade glaives.” The shop owner shook his head, looking apologetic for a second before the sales grin returned. “But I can offer a special discount on Relic grade. We have just one!”
“How much?” I asked, reluctantly. I forced my voice to stay level. If the spectral body hadn’t been filtering my vocals, it would have cracked.
“9,000! We are giving a 10% discount.” He smiled like the deal was already done.
I glanced at Aurelion one last time. He was practically vibrating, already imagining the weight of the weapon in his hands.
But there was no way I was paying nearly 50% of my total divinity for a single weapon. Even haggling was useless; no one was going to give me a discount that steep.
“Thank you, but that’s more than I’m willing to pay,” I said.
I turned away before the guilt could make me do something stupid.
“V, take me to the arena.”
…
The arena was exactly how anyone would picture a place built for bloodsport, with one twist. The fighting ground was a massive circle of packed earth. But the spectator seats didn’t rise from the ground; they hovered above it. A series of stone platforms floated in the air, forming a disjointed amphitheater. There weren’t many of them, making the audience feel exclusive.
“V, what are the rules?” I asked my temporary guide, who quickly found us a spot on one of the floating slabs.
“The participants are called Falvans, Your Lordship,” V responded. He pointed toward a smaller, unadorned platform hovering lower than the rest, where over a dozen creatures stood waiting. They varied in shape and size, but they all shared one thing - the faint aura of divinity. “Any god can sign up their Angel to participate, and the winner claims the prize set before the competition starts.”
“Fine, but what are the rules?” I repeated the question.
“Oh, there are no rules for Falvans.” He scratched his chin with a long, sharp claw, thinking. “Only the deities are restricted. You cannot intervene in the fight in any way once the battle starts. However, the fights aren’t to the death. None of the Angels can die in the arena. If an attack is judged fatal, the match is automatically stopped.”
“But no one would intervene even if the Falvan is seriously injured,” I said, filling in the blank V had conveniently left open. “The duel would go on until the risk of death is real.”
“Yes, that is correct.” V nodded. “But the Angels that are seriously injured and cannot continue fighting are treated by the Pantheon. So the god whose Angel lost doesn’t lose anything.”
He paused and smiled, revealing his sharp teeth. “Well, other than their reputation… but if their Angel performs well, their reputation might soar instead.”
V’s words worked on Aurelion more than me. For the first time, he turned his head toward the avatar of the God of Merchants. A faint smile broke across his excited face.
“And how do I win the glaive that blacksmith mentioned? Do I make a bet?” I asked, trying desperately to maintain optimism.
“Your Angel would have to fight and win,” V answered apologetically, shattering my hopes. I noticed he had lost his salesman’s spark after we walked out of the marketplace empty-handed.
“So defeat every single participant…” I muttered to myself.
I looked down at the Angels waiting for the competition to start. They didn’t seem particularly strong. I could sense some divinity radiating from them, but it was a candle flame compared to the inferno of the Angel that accompanied the Netherworld deity.
Still, I was far from believing Aurelion could defeat all of them. But V’s next words ignited a spark of hope.
“Your Lordship, your Angel would only have to defeat enough to secure third place,” he said. “There are five prizes in total, and two are clearly better than the glaive. Each Falvan can choose only one reward, so I think your Angel has a real chance.”
I wasn’t convinced.
Letting Aurelion fight would attract unnecessary attention. Sure, my spectral form kept me anonymous, but Aurelion was exposed flesh and blood. I doubted many races looked like Velmoryns. If I let him step into that ring, I was effectively announcing that this was an Angel of God of Velmoryn.
And then there was the physical cost. Death might be off the table, but injury wasn't. Trusting the healing the Pantheon provided was something I didn’t want to do.
“My King.” The voice whispered directly into my mind, startling me. “I realize the dangers, and I’m grateful for your concern. But I wish to fight and prove my worth. I wish to bring glory to you, my Lord. Please, allow me.”
Shit.
By refusing him now, I’d be telling him that I didn’t believe he was strong enough to stand against those Angels. It would shatter his confidence completely.
I was trying to figure out how to let Aurelion down without sounding like I didn’t trust him when a blue notification flashed before my eyes.
[Challenge to a Duel]
A deity has challenged you to a Duel of Falvans. If the challenge is refused, your information will be revealed to the challenger.
If you accept and lose, no penalties will be imposed. You will receive compensation of 1,000 Divinity Points. If you accept and win, you will be awarded 6,000 Divinity Points, equal to half the cost of initiating the duel.
The rules of the duel follow standard competition protocol.