Due to the title [Friend of the Spirit World], you have been invited to visit the Transient Bazaar. Do you accept?
Transient Bazaar? Was that another perk from his meeting with Thorn? Sweet.
Alan accepted without hesitation. If he could access stores set up by the System itself or other species out there, it could give him an amazing advantage.
A feeling of weightlessness took him, and all of his thoughts disappeared. In a split instant, he found himself in a different place, under a dark sky filled with strange golden clouds. Shooting stars flashed every second, and some lingered for a little while, creating quite a beautiful spectacle.
Alan was sat cross-legged on a piece of small descending rock, not remembering having done that. Many rocks floated just the same all around, some carrying shrouded shapes of different sizes and proportions, others moving freely and empty. They flashed and disappeared in the distance much like the shooting stars above, only to be replaced by others soon after.
You have entered the Transient Bazaar. Please-
Error! The visitor is too weak. Time estimate before life expires: 23 seconds.
What?! What the actual FUCK?!
Alan panicked. Something in his body felt wrong, his thoughts got jumbled, and his breathing stopped. Try as he could no air entered his lungs, nor could he move. His pores hurt. His cells screamed. His mana was burning.
It was agony.
He could only helplessly watch as the timer counted down.
10 seconds.
An odd calm took over him.
Was this it? Goddamn it.
5 seconds.
You invited me here, fucking System!
The Transient Bazaar offers its protection to the guest. Do you accept?
Yes! YES!
The discomfort disappeared. A flash of warmth spread over him in the form of a thin translucent barrier that affixed itself to his form. All that was wrong was gone, and Alan felt as if his whole body was wearing clothes enchanted with [Comfort].
It was a short-lived bliss, as the barrier came closer and closer until it merged with his skin. There were no new system messages.
What the fucking fuck.
Alan took a deep breath, trying to calm down. And blinked.
A person, or at least the shape of one stood in front of him, floating. He felt that he should be terrified, scared to death, or at the very least give a courtesy scream. The being was made of pure void that billowed like smoke. The nebulous creature gave a strange bow that was like the movement of sea waves and spoke in a language like the winds. Alan understood every word, but he was certain it was not due to his trait.
“Esteemed guest, please accept the Bazaar’s apologies and this one tiny gift as proof of our respect. Not many beings come here by invitation, and no one at your level has ever been deemed worthy by the Bazaar. We were caught unprepared by your arrival.”
A simple coin made out of black wood with red lines floated in front of Alan and he tentatively reached to take it. It felt simple enough. A shifting road was depicted on one side, and a strange symbol on the other.
“It is most likely your first time in the Bazaar, so I will allow myself to explain some rules. Please, bear with me,” the apparition said as Alan was examining the coin. “To enjoy your stay in the Bazaar you have to follow three simple rules – do not fight without permission, do not lie without permission, do not speak of the Bazaar or its inhabitants once you leave without permission. The last one is purely a recommendation and for your safety.
I do not mean to underestimate your capabilities, but I must state that out of the myriad beings currently here, you are by far the weakest. That makes you an attractive anomaly, but the Bazaar’s protection will be with you for your next few visits as long as you take ownership of the token. Simply channel some of your mana into it, feed it a drop of blood, and then it will find a place. It is a harmless process.”
The rules sounded simple enough. Alan followed the instructions of the being with some reluctance and channeled mana into the coin. Then he carefully poked his finger with the tip of his dagger. As soon as the drop of blood touched the coin, he felt the connection and took hold of it. The coin became black mist as it bore into the skin of his left wrist. There was no pain, but the coin was gone and all that was left was a black mark on it; it was just a line, and Alan recognized in it a simple representation of the twisting path.
Neat.
He could tell the token was there, and with a thought on his part, the coin materialized in his hand. There was something else there, something he could do with his mana, and he had the urge to try it on his spear. It disappeared in misty whisps, but Alan remained aware of it.
Is this…?
“Thank you,” Alan said. This was great!
The being once again gave the strange bow, “It is our duty to inform you of all things deemed necessary for your pleasant stay. The token is a precious object that would allow you future visits to the Bazaar, so keep it safe. Simply keeping the physical coin is fine if you choose to utilize its properties in a different way. Most visitors already have means to keep their belongings, so we chose this for your convenience in and out of here.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
If that is all, we will leave you to peruse the wonders of the Bazaar at your leisure. Please, bear in mind that the protection will last for up to a day. If you enter some of the more peculiar areas that may lessen the time. Not to worry, as you will be immediately ejected out of the Bazaar and returned to your original place of entrance should such a thing happen. May we assist you with something else?”
“Yes. How do I trade or peruse your… selection?”
“Ah, of course. The Bazaar allows anyone to offer their services, products, or merchandise. Unlike a shop run by the System, which I am sure you have had the… pleasure of interacting with, the experience here is much more personal. You are free to look around and talk with sellers, ask questions, or even open your stall if you have anything you believe will be of value to anyone. If you have a special request, you may always write it on a sheet of paper marked by your signature and throw it in the air. The token will provide it, but only here.”
“Throw it?”
“Yes. The Bazaar will take care of everything else and lead you to whoever can satisfy your desire.”
What a strange and curious place. Alan looked down, trying to make out the shapes roaming about on the ground. Were his eyes unable to focus, or was there something else going on down there? Every second the mist shifted, but the roads barely visible beyond seemed to shift too.
“Will that be all?” The being asked.
“Yes, thank you,” he answered. “Oh, what is your name? I’m Alan Morgan.”
It never hurt to be polite.
The being flickered like a dark flag to an invisible wind.
“We have no name, Alan Morgan. We are simply fragments of the Bazaar.”
“I see. Well, nice to meet you Mr. Bazaar.”
Another flicker. The winds blew harder as the being spoke for the last time, “Nice to meet you too, Alan Morgan, and may the twisting roads offer you what you seek.”
And just like that it was gone.
Alan smiled and once again looked around.
I forgot to ask it how to get down. Fuck.
First, he shoved his bag into his new spatial pocket. Then, he tried projecting his intention to the rock he was still sitting on, and it worked as easily as breathing. It lowered him at speeds he couldn’t comprehend, but Alan felt almost no discomfort. The ground was much further than he had assumed considering the time it took the rock to finally breach the swirling mists and reach a reasonable altitude.
It was a wondrous sight. The Bazaar was not a simple marketplace; instead, something akin to an endless moving city spanned as far as Alan could see. There were large stores, small strange shacks, pristine towers from fairytales, and stalls of all shapes and sizes. Twisting roads lead to corners so dark he would be surprised there were no murderers just waiting for someone to step in. There were also brightly lit storefronts that would make a kid with a sweet tooth faint and castles of marble and glass.
The rock landed on an open space and Alan jumped off, his mouth open at the sight of life in front of him. This was most certainly not Earth. This was not even the planet Earth had become a part of.
He took a few hesitant steps. Few beings walked around, but each of those he saw carried themselves with the confidence and poise of someone powerful.
The shapes were indistinct though, obscured. He could distinguish no features, but something in his mind told him most of those he passed were not human. With a thought he felt his presence become muted, deciding that he did not want to stand out in this place, no matter what rules governed it.
It was a simple act of projecting his desire with a wave of mana.
Magic was wonderful.
The shops offered all varieties of items and soon Alan lost himself in the new world. Everything shifted and twisted with each step he took. Some shops remained for more than a few steps, while others were constantly replaced. Nothing stayed the same until Alan showed some interest.
A building that looked almost like a museum seemingly carved out of a single piece of pristine white stone, stood out from the rest and was the first one that made him stop. As Alan approached the walls became almost transparent and he saw a many-handed being sitting on a mat in the middle. It was surrounded by pieces of various weapons, armor, tools, stools, even rocks, and broken remains of indeterminable objects. There was nothing that looked undamaged or even remotely useful, but each item was displayed on a pedestal of its own.
Alan got even closer, intrigued by the display. Considering the pristine building and its proprietor, the broken and dirty things were probably not simple. The being remained unmoving and unresponsive, but its features cleared once Alan was on the verge of entering. Its seven arms were spread in a circle around it as if holding invisible strings. The features of its face were sharp as blades, the eyes hidden behind a white cloth tied around them. The being was dressed in a white baggy robe, trimmed with gold and nothing else. A golden bracelet adorned each of its seven wrists.
“This one apologizes, but this one cannot allow you to step further into this sanctum of history and power. The Bazaar itself protects you and this one is convinced of your status, but the strings of fate do not lie. You have no destiny with any of the histories gathered here at this time. Grow stronger. On your third visit to the Bazaar, this one will respectfully welcome you.”
The voice was an echo coming from everywhere at once. Alan was suddenly back on the street; the museum was nowhere to be found.
Wow. Third visit, huh? Did that thing see his future or something, or just pretend to be mysterious? This whole experience was making Alan excited. He felt like all of his childhood fantasies, born out of that first book he had gotten a hold of, were coming true. On a much grander and bloodier scale, and there were no wands… yet.
Alan smiled as he continued walking around, stopping in front of a shop specifically selling cauldrons of multiple shapes and forms, and another on the opposite side that sold a variety of cloaks. He passed big and small shops, oddly shaped tents, blurry shapes sitting on the ground in front of blankets, and pits filled with strange creatures. Finally, he reached a small wooden stall that was as empty as it could be, yet various shapes were lining up in front of it, waiting respectfully.
Few of the patrons seemed to be chatting between themselves. Alan grew curious and approached the line, and as soon as he stood behind the others the shop changed into a garden with various translucent herbs and insects. Leaves and bugs unlike any he had ever seen flew around, buzzing, singing, dancing. A stalk of grass stopped next to him, and as soon as he looked at it it shrieked and bore into the soft earth that the floor had turned into.
Alan smiled widely and stepped away from the line, finding himself back on the street. With a thought, a piece of paper appeared in his hand. He mulled it over for a few seconds, then shrugged and a simple sentence appeared on the paper. With a flick of his wrist, he threw it up, and it burned in a cloud of ash, like a firework. Nothing else seemed to happen.
Alan walked again, then stopped. In the middle of the street, between the flashes of grand or weird shops, sat a small hut, like the ones from the old tales his Slavic grandmother – his mother’s mom - had told him. He was instantly reminded of the witch that stole children, cooked them up, and ate them. All that was missing from the forest hut were the bird's legs.
Baba Yaga?
There was no old witch in front of the hut though.
But there was a decrepit-looking old man.
So old that Alan wondered if he had ever seen a person that looked older. The old man didn’t care that his hut was blocking the road or making passage difficult, as he was lounging on a wooden chair that seemed as old as the man himself. It was a miracle it could hold a person at all, even if that person was so thin, he was about to pop out of existence.
Alan didn’t know how much time he spent standing and watching the strange hut and the old man, reminded of his grandmother. She had loved him and his siblings unconditionally, and she had kept his crazy parents in line before she was gone. There was no arguing with that woman.
A large hazy shape approached the old man as Alan stood there, lost in memories. It was flanked by another two and all three bowed.
There was a short exchange. The being threw something at the old man, and the item disappeared in an instant.
Then the old man opened one eye and frowned. Then, with a sigh and wave of a hand, the world became hell for a single instant.
Then the being was gone, and the two that had come with it left soon after.
Alan still stood where he had been, and everything seemed normal as if the short confrontation hadn’t happened.
Wasn’t it forbidden to fight in the Bazaar? Or were some people exempt from that rule?
Gone were the roads of the Bazaar. The hut and the old man were now in front of Alan, only pine trees reaching for the stars around them.
Two eyes as black as the space between the stars stared at him.
The second rule of the Bazaar echoed in his mind as if someone was whispering, ‘Do not lie without permission.’
A grave voice spoke to him, “Now tell me, boy, why do you reek of death and spirits?”
Oh shit.