Whispers and advice ran through the Nebulous Bazaar like wildfire. When a player teleported to the bazaar, there were five districts serving as beacons and twenty spawn points within. No names were given to the spawn points and they were marked as plain red dots. From north to south, there was the Dark District, Food District, Recreation Zone, Merchant District, Guild District. Because of the straightforward nature of the Nebulous Bazaar, it was easy to navigate.
Dasha went from the Food District to the Merchant Zone, ignoring the recreation in between. He didn't see a point to it. He could have teleported there but he decided to walk to see and understand the layout and culture of Nebulous Bazaar.
'The culture is just loud, busy, and annoying.' Dasha was stopped at least once a minute. At this point, he got used to ignoring them. While most people got caught up by a merchant or a guild scout, Dasha refused to be tied down this early. An analysis of the political realm needed to be done first. Rehan was one perspective. He required others.
His eyes darted left and right. In the Merchant District were weapon and armour shops and shady eyes with an agenda.
'No phones in sight. No technology of today.' Dasha saw radio and tech from the early 2000s like DVDs and VHSes but not a single smartphone or HD television.
"Hey, you! I see those black garbs! You need armour, man! Easy to move and durable armour!"
Ignored.
From the snippets he heard and the conversation with Rehan, guilds were a much better source of resources and weaponry than merchants.
However, there were stipulations. The contracts were strict and a player had to be careful about the fine print. In other words, until Dasha knew more about the rules of the world, he was going to stick to himself.
His gaze kept shifting. After meeting Rehan, he was searching for someone else with strong eyes. Someone who could give him the weaponry he wanted.
Nothing.
He was eavesdropped. He collected information. He learned the ins and outs of the bazaar. Even so, after two hours of searching, he wound up on the line between the Merchant District and the Guild District without having settled on a shop or sponsor. He didn't care about quality or cost, he needed an individual that was capable. Whose eyes were radiating with light.
'Maybe I got lucky with Rehan—'
"Um, hello, are you looking for a guild?" a woman asked.
"We can sponsor you," said the man beside her. His smile was nervous and he met with Dasha's judgement with the barest of confidence.
Dasha glanced from the spectacled man to the pudgy woman. His features softened.
'…they remind me of my parents.'
Sentimentality was for the weak. That was what he thought. Yet on the rare occasion his emotions spiked and he would feel compassion for people—for hard working people. Like the people who raised him, his parents. Born in Canada to Singaporean immigrants who held high expectations for his education, he exceeded those expectations and gave them everything they wanted in life and more. He built his wealth and let them retire early. Everything he did, everything he studied, was for them.
But it wasn't easy. His parents were strict with him. They watched him like a hawk and counted every grade. He understood though. Being in a new country, working low-wage jobs and looking forward to a future that relied on the shoulders of a kid—Dasha understood.
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Seeing the pair reminded him of that time. The time when he was young and his parents were eager yet sad.
His lips moved before his mind did. "I'm not."
"Really?" the man brightened and exchanged smiles with who Dasha assumed was his wife. "We're not a big guild, it's just us two, s-so I hope you don't mind."
Again, his brain wasn't working when he replied, "I won't."
All of a sudden, seeing them smile, he wanted to see his parents again.
***
The couple ran a small, rundown lucky charm shop. He wasn't sure how a guild would make any sort of progress in a place like this. Dasha was having second thoughts until he smelled something that brought him to his childhood again.
Hainanese chicken rice. It was generic. It was simple.
It was also so, so good. The cucumber garnishes were exactly how he liked them.
"Heavy eater, eh?" Li Wei, the middle-aged with the shaky confidence, guffawed. Zhang Mei shook her head.
"Don't worry, we have plenty more where that came from," Zhang Mei said. The three were behind the counter and sitting on the floor, hidden from prying eyes. A flickering overhead bulb casted uneven shadows.
Dasha didn't realize how hungry he was. Azrael explained a player didn't technically get hungry—it was a psychological phenomena. Even so, he felt it. From the bottom of his stomach, he felt the desire to eat.
"You know," Li Wei began, "I heard someone completed the Special Objective."
Dasha didn't stop chewing. "I saw."
"No one's ever done it that fast," Li Wei elaborated. Dasha perked up and looked at him. "Seriously, everyone's been trying to find the player that did it. It sucks the system doesn't tell us."
"By how much?"
"By how much? Oh, how much was the record broken by?" Li Wei shrugged his shoulders. "By a lot, I think."
"At least a day," Zhang Mei chimed in.
"Ohh, yeah." Li Wei nodded. "Something like that. Anyway, players this time around are crazy strong, I hear. It's almost like they know what the Game System is before they come here."
From the way they talked, they sounded like former players. "What era did you guys play?"
"Two hundred and two years ago, and counting!"
Li Wei announced it proudly. Dasha must have made a face because Zhang Mei hid a laugh.
"Yes, yes, we know, we're old," she said. "But don't underestimate us! We know a lot of cool things!"
"Quick question: how does the process to become a merchant here work?"
"Ohh, well…" The couple exchanged nervous looks. Li Wei managed to gather his courage and tell him anyway, "Some of us who are going to a place that's not so nice get a chance to help around."
"Are those the only kinds of people here?"
"No, no, it's a choice. Most people who know they're going to Tian just go. We…weren't so fortunate."
"Mm." Dasha didn't want to judge too harshly. It was the 1800s. Their outfits told as much. A light blue changshan for Li Wei and a red ruqun for Zhang Mei. Traditional wear that wasn't seen often in modern China.
He continued to eat.
"If you want to buy weapons," Li Wei said, arms crossed, "there's a good shop for beginners called Tubal's Forge. It's owned by Tubal-cain. Maybe you've heard of him?"
"I have." Dasha had seen the forge from the outside. It seemed impressive and the name stuck out in particular due to its historical significance. "Genesis 4:22, known for being the first blacksmith. Why him?"
"You saw the crowd around his place, didn't you?" said Li Wei. "He's the best for beginners. His steel and bronze weapons are second to none"
'I'm a martial artist, so I don't know just how useful those kinds of weapons would be. If I had to choose, I'd rather just craft my own weapons.'
He opened the White Abyss map.
[ Tvastar's Forge: The forge of the divine blacksmith of Hindu mythology, shared with Hephaestus. It is a self-functioning forge managed by the Kourai Khryseai (Golden Maidens) who are woman-shaped, gold automotones and intended for players to craft their own weapons. ]
Tvastar's Forge was where he could create his own items. Dasha had never done blacksmithing but he assumed there was a tutorial to help players.
"What are you looking at?" Zhang Mei asked kindly.
"Nothing." Dasha dismissed his map. "Thank you for the food, by the way."
"You should stay here," Zhang Mei said, smiling. "We have a bed and everything, so it'll be much better than your empty home."
She had a point. Sleeping in a white room devoid of sound and furniture sounded depressing. Although this place might have been run down, it was better than nothing.
"Thank you." Dasha lowered his head. "I appreciate it."
Sleep wasn't technically necessary. Food wasn't necessary. Yet Dasha found himself falling in the lull of his urges.