The next morning, I found myself standing at the entrance of the Hunter’s Market.
It was a sprawling, chaotic maze of stalls, shops, and kiosks, each one brimming with weapons, armor, potions, and other gear tailored for Hunters.
The air buzzed with energy, a mix of excited chatter, the clang of metal against metal, and the occasional roar of a live demonstration.
A faint smell of oil and leather lingered in the air.
I stepped inside, feeling a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.
I didn't have any gear which is laughable.
If I wanted to survive tomorrow’s raid, I needed something better.
“First time here?”
A vendor near the entrance called out to me.
He was an older man with a wiry frame and sharp eyes.
His stall was packed with swords, axes, and a few ornate staffs.
“Yeah,” I admitted, stepping closer.
He chuckled.
“You’ve got that fresh-out-of-orientation look. What are you after? Swords? Daggers? Maybe a good staff if you’re the mage type?”
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“Daggers,” I said. “Something light and fast.”
He nodded and rummaged through a pile of weapons, pulling out a sleek, silver dagger.
The blade glinted in the sunlight, and faint runes etched along its surface gave it an otherworldly look.
“Good choice for a beginner,” he said, handing it to me. “Lightweight, enchanted for durability, and the runes help with elemental channeling.”
I held the dagger, testing its weight.
It felt balanced, almost natural in my hand.
But when I looked at the price tag, my stomach dropped.
“Five hundred credits?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
The vendor shrugged.
“Quality costs, kid.”
I put the dagger down, my heart sinking.
My budget was tight, barely enough for basic supplies.
I wandered deeper into the market, scanning the stalls for something affordable.
Eventually, I came across a smaller, less flashy kiosk tucked away in a corner.
The vendor was an elderly woman, her face lined with age but her eyes sharp and calculating.
“Looking for something specific?” she asked, her voice surprisingly strong.
“Daggers,” I said, keeping it simple.
She reached under the counter and pulled out a blade.
It was nothing special, no runes, no shine.
The metal was dark and slightly worn, but the edge was razor-sharp.
“This one’s solid,” she said. “Sturdy, reliable, and won’t break the bank. Two hundred credits.”
I picked it up, testing the weight.
It was heavier than the enchanted dagger but felt durable, like it had seen its share of battles and survived.
“I’ll take it,” I said, handing over the credits.
The woman nodded, wrapping the dagger in a simple cloth before handing it back to me.
As I continued through the market, I picked up a few other essentials, a healing potion, a pouch of rations, and a small utility kit with basic tools.
Each purchase chipped away at my budget, but I couldn’t afford to skimp on preparation.
By the time I left the market, my pack was heavier, and my wallet was lighter.
But I felt a little more confident about tomorrow’s raid.
As I walked home, the weight of the dagger at my side was a comforting reminder of what lay ahead.
The raid would be dangerous, no doubt about it.
But I wasn’t the same person I had been just a few days ago.
For the first time in a long time, I felt ready.