Chapter 19: Camelot And A Lot

A multitude of people walked in unison, traversing the rugged, rocky terrain until they reached a vast expanse of greenery.

At the edge of this lush plain stood a massive gate, its towering walls stretching as far as the eye could see. Several fortresses were strategically positioned along the wall, their imposing structures hinting at the presence of vigilant knights in gleaming armor, visible only as distant silhouettes.

Although the gate of the city lay wide open, only a few individuals ventured inside—mainly Novas who had received early word of the city's existence and had chosen to explore its mysteries.

Thick Ember radiated from the skyline, casting a mystical glow that both attracted and warned away creatures from its vicinity. At the same time, this thick Ember was evidence of what this city is, a Folklore from the epoch of Post-Order—a place of ancient secrets and untold riches.

Residents of the plain believe that the folklore of The Crucible are echoes of a once-thriving past. Through years of painstaking research and the study of ancient texts, they have come to understand that these legends are not mere myths but are deeply intertwined with the hidden secrets of the Crucible.

Many Novas gathered at a distance, some waiting for those who entered to return with vital information, while others hesitated, struggling to summon the courage to step into the enigmatic city.

Narvel was among those apprehensive souls; even after leaving the caravan, he remained fearful of the potential dangers lurking within the city walls.

He pondered the risks that awaited him inside—the opportunity to gain strength quickly made his blood boil, yet the uncertainty of fatal peril quelled his excitement.

Part of him yearned for more power, while another part reminded him that his life was fragile. Narvel, like most living beings, prioritized survival above all, yet his inherent greed still pulsed within him.

"Wasting time might just make me miss out on an opportunity," he finally resolved, setting off toward the city. Several others joined him, and it took about thirty minutes for the group to reach the imposing gates.

There, they quickly noticed the unmoving knights; their restrained, formidable auras far exceeded anything the newcomers had ever encountered. It was as if their very presence warned all who approached not to disturb the delicate peace of the ancient city.

Deep within him, Narvel felt Ebonveil cry out for blood—a bizarre urge to taste the lifeblood of the guards. 'That's very irrational,' he thought, quickening his pace as he recalled the strange intelligence he had recently discovered within the scythe.

About three kilometers from the gates, after passing a military outpost, the group finally caught its first glimpse of the city.

Magnificent buildings with unique, time-worn architecture rose before them, their grandeur contrasting with neighboring structures that, although lacking the same luster, still echoed the same time-worn style.

Amid the bustling streets, people in varied attire hurried by, each carrying one or two prized possessions.

A middle-aged man, standing in front of a building with mannequins dressed in rugged leather behind a display case, shouted, "Beautiful materials are available here—you won't find anything of such quality, elegance, and price in Camelot! Believe me, I had to journey from the North Sea Palace to get this!" His booming voice drew the attention of the curious, and soon other shop owners began announcing their offerings.

Narvel, meanwhile, was intrigued not only by the merchants' animated behavior but also by the strange, passive ability he possessed to sense their emotions—a power whose origin still eluded him. He had tried to connect this seismic sense of his to his Attributes and Talents, but he couldn't figure it out.

Going down the pathway, several shop owners tried pulling Narvel toward their establishments, but he refused, sensing their ulterior motives aimed squarely at his pockets. Moreover, even if he wished to explore their offerings, he knew he didn't have the money to spare.

"If you're looking for items to increase your strength, step right into Miranda's store—it has it all," a young man said with a bright smile as he regarded Narvel. Dressed in a modest male gown that fell to the middle of his shins, with blonde hair brushing his ears and a lightly tanned complexion, he exuded an inviting, honest air.

Two things caught Narvel's attention.

First, he could detect no ill intentions or deceit from the young man; second, he was indeed in search of items that could boost his strength. Narvel paused before the shop, noting that although the building looked similar to the others along the pathway, it carried a subtle, distinguishing aura.

"What do you have?" Narvel asked, his curiosity piqued at this point.

"I knew you were a sensible person the moment I saw you," the young man replied warmly.

"Even with this mask covering my face?" Narvel challenged, thinking the man was trying to warm up to him.

"Exactly because you have a mask on, come with me. I'll introduce you to the products we have for sale," he responded.

As Narvel stepped into the shop, he felt as though he had crossed an invisible boundary.

The interior was astonishingly spacious with rows of shelves that towered over twenty feet high. Some shelves held thick, ancient books; others displayed an array of beast and monster parts, while delicate herbs, protected behind glass, completed the mystical assortment.

The sight was mesmerizing, and Narvel couldn't help but be stunned by the magical ambiance that permeated the space.

"So, what do you fancy? Potions? Scrolls? Elixirs, you name it, we have it, sir."

Narvel scrutinized the man a moment longer. Before returning to the Crucible, Greaves had warned him about counterfeit elixirs—and even worse, those with irreversible side effects.

"Let me have a look at the ones without side effects," Narvel requested.

Though it didn't show on his face, the man was momentarily taken aback—internally cursing, 'There goes my extra cut.'

"Sure thing, sir. Right this way."

The man led Narvel toward a shelf filled with an array of potions.

Turning to Narvel, the young man explained, "These potions can boost your speed, strength, and mental stats—some even enhance stamina. However, unless you acquire other items to truly augment your power, these elixirs only offer temporary increases." Before Narvel could interject, he added, "And as for the side effects, they're negligible. You'll experience only temporary drawbacks lasting a few minutes to a few hours, depending on how much you overindulge."

Narvel remained skeptical, though he could tell the young man wasn't lying; he simply couldn't gauge how the side effects were measured.

He was worried that they might have been tested on much stronger individuals, thus skewing the results.

"If you're concerned the side effects might vary," the man continued, "fear not. We tested these on a normal person—someone who hasn't yet stepped onto the path of mystics or evolution—while you, sir, give off the aura of someone far from normal."

Narvel studied the young man, attempting to sense whether he truly was an ordinary person. Despite several attempts, the answer eluded him. "Is it because of my mask?"

"Very much so. Unless you bear a hideous scar beneath that mask or are a fugitive hiding your identity, you wouldn't need to cover your face," the young man replied matter-of-factly.

"What's your name?" Narvel asked.

"Gideon, sir. Gideon Merrick."

Narvel couldn't help a wry smile. "Gideon, you have a sharp mouth that makes one want to assault you."

"I've been told that a lot, sir. Now, which of these potions would you like to purchase?"

"Before that, what is the price of the cheapest potion on this shelf?"

Even though they wouldn't provide him with permanent increments, he was well aware of the chances a temporary one could get him. He imagined using these potions alongside his true double and how they would boost his abilities.

"Well, that depends on what you would prefer to pay with. If you are paying in gold, then 127 gold coins is the cheapest. But since you are a foreigner, your gold coins won't be as valuable as Camelot's own, so you can pay with rare items or Gene Fragments."

From hearing the number of gold coins he would require, Narvel almost turned and left the shop, but when he heard that he could pay with rare items or Gene Fragments he felt that he had some hope.

"How much in Gene Fragments?"

"Well, I can settle for 10 Sundered Gene Fragments for the cheapest potion here," Gideon said. He kept staring at Narvel's mask as though he wanted to rip it off his face and see the expression he was making underneath.

'10! That's way too much for me at the moment. I barely have 2 Sundered Gene Fragments left with me.' Shaking his head Narvel turned his back at Gideon and was about to leave.

"Wait, why are you leaving?"

"Because I can't afford what I want."

"Says who?" Gideon quickly circled Narvel and arrived in front of him. "The mask on your face should be able to get you over a few dozen potions of the mid-grade. If you don't mind, you can use it to purchase some of the potions, also, because you are a first-time customer, I'll replace your mask with another good one we have somewhere in the back."

At this point, Narvel realized why Gideon had approached him. Well, it wasn't as if he had hidden his intentions from the beginning, as he had pointed it out once or twice, it was because of his mask.

Narvel had thought that when Gideon had made mention of his mask, he was doing so only because he was curious about the face underneath, but now, he realized that the young man was truly interested in the mask rather than the person.

He had done well to mask his greed underneath curiosity, but at the moment, it was quite easy for Narvel to smell this from him.

"Not interested," Narvel stepped to the side and walked past Gideon. This was something that Joseline had gifted him and he was in no way going to sell it for potions.

"We also accept labor as payment, sir,"

'Is this mad man asking me to sell my body to him, prostitution?' Not wanting to entertain any more of Gideon's offers, Narvel quickly stepped out of the store.

Before he could get himself, Narvel felt a body crash onto his. This shook him up and before he got himself or a proper footing, he heard a voice say to him; "Bring this to the Eperium Library before sunset. If you fail to do so, know that Sir Jonathan's men will hunt you down until they catch or kill you. It is also possible that the Imperial Guards would get involved. The library is the one with the seven pillars west of this place."

Right after that, a cube-like, metallic object was forcefully shoved into his hands. By the time Narvel raised his head to look at who it was that ran into him, there was no one in sight.

"Hey you, stop in the name of the King!" A knight atop a horse cried out, attracting the attention of others.

Narvel felt a foreboding feeling that he was the one the knight was referring to.

"Return what you stole and face your punishment!" The knight shouted as he began riding towards Narvel at full speed.

"Run boy, or else they surround you and kill you." The voice that handed him the cube in his hands reached his ears once again.

Without thinking much, he turned tail and ran as fast as he could...

"Foreigners are best for free labor," Gideon muttered as he watched Narvel run down the road.