The intention in the morning, was to go run another dungeon. She felt it kind of fun to mow down hordes of Orcs, and while her stats weren’t quite high enough for thirty of them to be like chaff, she could still do it. Mostly by staying out of the big boys circle and avoiding anything big, but still. However, went she went to go get her gear and see if that made any difference, she was accosted by a Dwarf with a large beard and strange regalia.
“Your sword. How much will you sell it for?” he demanded, getting right to the crux of the matter. At first, she thought she’d ask for twice the buying price, at 1,000,000 Thrones. But, then she thought for a moment. There was no guarantee that Orange-rank equipment could be bought again.
“Excuse me, for a second” she said, In Khazalid, just to confuse him. Turning from him and opening the inventory - it seemed others didn’t really question the gesticulating that using the system caused, like they didn’t question you lifting 800lb or running a mile in less than a minute - and got to the store. There, she scrolled down, and saw Sword Of Ulric - Sold Out. Which...made things a huge risk. Sold out because she had one and it was a one at a time thing, or sold out because it was sold out? If she sold that weapon she’d be out a blade she loved, and didn’t have the capital to buy anything that was in the same vein. Plus, 1,000,000 Thrones didn’t come out of your back pocket, even for a Dwarf, so she’d not have it for a while.
“Sorry, It’s an ancient family heirloom. I can’t sell it to anyone. Dishonour to my ancestors, and all. Why, are you so enthusiastic about buying it?” Estaria asked, giving the Dwarf a smile and hopefully placarding him. Whatever it was about her sword, it was pressing enough that her Khazalid - which was a Big Fucking Deal for a human to learn - wasn’t even mentioned.
“It has Runes. Lost Runes. Regaining the knowledge of even one of them would be the greatest achievement of this expedition. I need the sword so my Master can catalog every rune etched into it, and relearn the Lost Runes” The Dwarf had an almost frantic tone of voice, which didn’t suit a Dwarf at all.
“Well, I am sure I can hang around your Karak for a week or two while you do your work. I mean, exploring a Dwarven Karak? That’s worth more than a million Thrones” she grinned, and then walked up to the merchant’s stall. “But after. The blade is irreplaceable, and I don’t want to die because I let you look over it” she told him. The Dwarf took in her words, and then nodded and headed off, probably to go tell his Master.
“I don’t know about no Runes, but I dealt with the sword’s physical body. It is very sturdy, and holds an edge better than anything I have seen. But there is a difference between holding an edge and being sharp, so I sharpened it for you. The rest gave a bit of Dwarven love to it, should work better on the field now” the merchant told her. It was quite amazing that he got this all done in one night, but the amount she was paying to get it done then probably had him up all night. The equipment went on, and Estaria nodded.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Thanks. See you after the fight, when we are all rich” she gave him a wink - knowing who to talk to properly and who to bolster, as any good Captain did - and headed off back to her tent. There, she got a new key, and entered the B-rank dungeon again. From here, she engaged herself a new set of Orcs with her new sword.
The difference was incredible and immediately obvious. She split the Orc from shoulder to hip with one blow, and it made her laugh. Further slaughter of the Orcs rose the laughter to a surprisingly disturbing degree. She had a theory that this game system was messing with her head to make sure her head didn’t go quite so insane from everything she was doing, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel some emotional extremes. Like the beastman camp, she went through the Orcs like a bloody whirlwind. It felt glorious, it felt empowering, it felt….surprisingly hard actually. Like, physically, her sword had just hit something really hard. Looking up, there was a massive, Black-clad Orc staring down at her. Black Orc Bigg’un…..she’d entered the inner circle. Fuck, her head had gone again. The blade of his axe took a chunk of her Luck and she got out of his range, killing the two Orcs that came at her as she did so.
“I really need to stop doing that. One day I’m going to come face to face with a damned Dragon. And who’ll be laughing then?” Estaria muttered, her blade going up in the air and a pair of pistols being drawn. Sub-targetting aimed both bullets into the Orc’s eyes, and then he was dead, the pistols were away, and she caught the sword. Taking a deep breath, she saw the rest of the Orcs were coming to have a scrap. Es wasn’t so sure she was in the mood for a fight with rankers like this. Still, desire overcame logic, and with a raised blade she rushed into the horde.
The butchery was vicious, and blood spilled in copious amounts as she fought. The sword gave her a strong advantage, and her armour plus the shield were better than they were, but she still wasn’t good enough to take this many enemies and not get health damage. She was wounded, and somewhat fatigued, though in the end victory, was hers.
Which, was a shock, honestly. The questions in her head swam around, jabbing at her. Was she going to lose herself? Grow apart from normal humans now she was strong as a Troll, fast as a horse and as durable as a rockface? Would she grow as Chaos does, as Orcs do? Would she see humans as frail, feeble things that are inferior to her? That last one hit pretty close to home because yes, she was already...
Ahh, more killing would get rid of this mindset. While the boss of last time was enough to keep her away this time, the inner circle needed cleaning up a bit, and her blade was thirsty.
“Best get to it then”