Chapter 58: Gift?

Chapter 58: Chapter 58: Gift?

"Price is what you pay. Value is what you get." — Warren Buffett

The heavy iron gates of The Undervault creaked open as Riven and Garreth slipped into the subterranean black market.

The air down here smelled of damp stone, burning tallow candles, and the metallic tang of illicit alchemical brews. Shrouded figures and shady merchants huddled over low tables, trading in stolen monster parts and unverified contraband.

The Undervault was hidden beneath the frontier settlement, far from the eyes of the Adventurers’ Guild and the town guards. Its narrow corridors twisted through ancient stone chambers, with makeshift stalls occupying nearly every available space.

Some merchants sold ordinary goods stolen from caravans. Others dealt in monster cores, enchanted weapons, forbidden grimoires, and magical artifacts whose origins were best left unquestioned.

Riven had visited the market before, but the place still made him uneasy.

There was something about the people who gathered here. Most kept their faces hidden, and nearly everyone seemed to be watching everyone else. Conversations stopped whenever unfamiliar visitors passed too close.

Garreth, however, appeared completely unconcerned.

He walked through the market with his usual heavy stride, his cloak brushing against the stone walls. People moved aside when they saw him coming. A few merchants glanced at him, recognized him, and quickly returned to their business.

Riven followed closely behind.

His obsidian mask attracted plenty of attention. Several people stared at him as he passed, while others deliberately avoided looking in his direction.

He had grown accustomed to the reactions by now.

The mask was unsettling enough to make most people uncomfortable, especially when worn by someone as small as him. Its dark surface absorbed nearly all the light around it, leaving his face hidden beneath an expressionless half mask.

Garreth didn’t waste time browsing.

He led Riven straight through the labyrinth of stalls to a secluded, shadowy corner run by a hunchbacked, one eyed weapons fence who eyed Riven’s masked face with a knowing smirk.

The merchant sat behind a wooden counter covered in scratches and old knife marks. His remaining eye was cloudy around the edges, but it followed Riven’s every movement.

A collection of weapons hung on the wall behind him. Most were poorly maintained, but a few looked considerably better than the equipment displayed in the more public stalls.

"Back again, old man?" the fence asked.

Garreth ignored the greeting.

"He’s got something to sell."

The merchant’s eye shifted toward Riven.

"Does he now?"

Riven stepped forward and dumped the stolen bandit gear onto the wooden counter.

The contents clattered against one another.

Rusted shortswords, blood stained and boiled leather armor spilled across the counter.

The old fence poked through the scrap with a greasy finger, scoffing.

"Trash. Standard frontier cutthroat garbage. But... the silver pieces salvage well enough."

He tossed a heavy leather pouch back onto the table.

Riven glanced at the contents.

The merchant had barely examined the equipment, but he had already decided what it was worth. Riven suspected the man was taking advantage of him, though he had little interest in arguing over a few extra coins.

He needed a new weapon more than he needed to squeeze every possible copper out of the sale.

Garreth crossed his arms, his steel grey eyes fixing the fence.

"No junk. He needs a weapon. Clean, low tier, subtle utility. Nothing that floods a weak core or cries for attention."

The fence grunted.

"You’re asking for a lot from a piece of steel."

"I’m asking for something that won’t break the first time he uses it."

The old man gave a crooked smile.

"Then perhaps you should stop sending the boy into fights."

Garreth’s expression didn’t change.

"Show us what you’ve got."

The fence reached beneath the counter and pulled out a narrow, oil stained wooden case.

He placed it on the table and brushed away a layer of dust before popping the latch.

Inside lay a slender, well forged steel shortsword.

Riven leaned forward.

The weapon was noticeably different from the cheap blade he had carried before. Its polished steel was clean and free of visible imperfections. The blade was narrow, with a simple crossguard and a dark leather wrapped grip.

It wasn’t particularly flashy.

In fact, at first glance, it looked like an ordinary shortsword.

But Riven noticed the faint lines etched into the fuller.

They were nearly invisible unless he looked closely. The markings were so subtle that someone unfamiliar with enchantments might have mistaken them for decorative scratches.

"Custom commission that a dead one never picked up," the fence muttered, tapping the flat of the blade. "Combines two minor, practical low tier runes. No heavy mana pull, completely safe for an weaker core."

Riven reached into the case and picked it up.

The balance immediately caught his attention.

The blade was light enough to move quickly, but it still had enough weight behind it to deliver a solid strike. Its grip fit comfortably in his small hand, and the crossguard offered enough protection without getting in the way.

He turned it over, examining the runes.

"What do they do?"

The fence leaned back in his chair.

"One keeps the blade from reflecting light. The other dampens the noise when it strikes something."

Riven raised an eyebrow beneath his mask.

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," the fence replied. "No extra cutting power. No ridiculous mana enhancement. Just two simple enchantments that do what they’re supposed to."

Garreth nodded toward the blade.

"Useful abilities are often better than impressive ones."

Riven looked at him.

"Especially if they don’t drain mana?"

"Especially then."

Garreth stepped closer and examined the sword.

"Your core is still developing. You don’t need a weapon that consumes half your mana every time you draw it. You need something reliable."

Riven returned his attention to the weapon.

The first enchantment was called the Dusk Gleam Finish.

A subtle illusion rune etched along the fuller absorbed ambient light, ensuring the blade never flashed or reflected moonlight when Riven drew it in the dark.

It didn’t make the sword invisible. Anyone looking closely could still see the blade, but it wouldn’t catch the light and reveal his position with a sudden flash.

For someone who relied on stealth, that was valuable.

The second enchantment was the Echo Step Damping Point.

A tiny acoustic damping glyph near the crossguard completely muffled the harsh, ringing CLANG of steel meeting steel or stone, keeping his parries silent in tight corridors.

Riven tested the weapon by lightly tapping its flat against the wooden counter.

The sound was barely audible.

He tried again, striking the edge against the counter with slightly more force.

The noise was still surprisingly faint.

The fence watched him with amusement.

"Go ahead. Try it against something harder."

Riven glanced at Garreth.

The older man gave a small nod.

Riven struck the blade against the iron edge of the counter.

A faint vibration traveled through the weapon, but the sharp metallic ring he expected never came.

He looked at the runes again.

It was a brilliant fusion of utility.

The enchantments didn’t grant magical extra damage or artificial cutting power. They were purely a shadow operative’s tool, stealthy, silent, and structurally sound.

Riven could already imagine several situations where the weapon would be useful.

In a narrow corridor, he could parry an enemy’s attack without giving away his position through the sound of clashing steel. In the darkness, he could draw the blade without a flash of reflected light.

Neither enchantment would make him stronger.

But both could give him an advantage.

And sometimes, a small advantage was all he needed.

"How much?" Riven asked.

The fence’s smirk widened.

"Now we’re getting somewhere."

He leaned forward and tapped the case.

"Two gold pieces."

Riven went still.

That was considerably more than he had expected.

He examined the blade once more, then looked toward Garreth.

The older man remained silent.

Riven tipped open his pouch to count the contents alongside what he had already saved from his previous E Rank escort and monster bounties.

He tallied it up in his head: a solid one gold and sixty silver pieces.

It was a small fortune for an F Rank adventurer.

He had earned most of it through contracts, monster bounties, and the occasional sale of equipment taken from defeated enemies. He had been careful with his spending, avoiding unnecessary purchases whenever possible.

But the sword was different.

His previous weapon had shattered during the fight. He couldn’t afford to keep relying on cheap equipment, especially when he was beginning to take more dangerous contracts.

He slid his total pile of coin across the counter.

The fence counted the stack, then looked up, his one good eye glinting with amusement.

"Short. This piece is custom runed. Total price is two gold pieces."

Riven’s brows pulled together beneath his obsidian mask.

He patted his empty pouches, but there was nothing left.

He was forty silver short.

For a moment, he considered putting the sword back.

He could probably find another weapon for less money. It might not have any enchantments, but a plain steel blade would still be better than nothing.

However, he knew how much he depended on stealth.

The Gloom Stalker had taught him how dangerous it was to fight something that could conceal itself. His training with Garreth had also shown him how easily an opponent could exploit a weakness.

A weapon that helped him remain unnoticed was worth more than its appearance suggested.

Before Riven could speak, a heavy, calloused hand slammed down onto the wooden counter, sliding a small, unblemished gold coin across the grain with a sharp clack.

Garreth didn’t look at Riven.

He kept his arms crossed, his steel grey eyes fixed entirely on the fence as the old man eagerly swept the coin into his palm.

The fence grinned.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

Garreth gave him a cold stare.

"Don’t make me regret it."

The merchant chuckled and began packing away the remaining scraps of bandit equipment.

Riven looked at the gold coin, then at Garreth.

"You didn’t have to do that."

Garreth turned toward him.

"Consider it an investment in keeping you from getting yourself killed with a snapped twig of a blade," Garreth rasped, his voice dry and devoid of warmth.

Riven fell silent.

He wasn’t accustomed to receiving help without being expected to repay it immediately. Even the Guild’s assistance had come with a price.

Garreth, however, didn’t seem interested in discussing the matter.

He turned toward the exit, motioning for Riven to follow.

"Don’t mistake charity for pity, boy. You’ll work off every single copper of that interest tonight in the ruins, starting with twenty extra laps of spatial compression while I use that new toy of yours as a target."

Riven stared at him.

"Twenty extra?"

"Did I stutter?"

Riven sighed beneath his mask.

Of course.

He should have known there would be a catch.

Still, he couldn’t deny that the weapon was worth the price. It was a considerable improvement over his broken sword, and the two enchantments suited his fighting style perfectly.

He carefully placed the blade back into its case and secured the scabbard to his belt.

The new weapon felt different from his previous one. Its balance was better, its grip more comfortable, and its construction far more reliable.

He would need time to get used to it.

But that was what training was for.

Riven grabbed the new scabbard, feeling the faint, stable hum of the dual runes against his belt, and followed his mentor out into the cold frontier night.

The heavy iron gates of the Undervault creaked shut behind them.

Garreth was already walking toward the ruins.

Riven followed, one hand resting near the new sword at his hip.

He had come here looking for a replacement weapon.

He was leaving with something far more useful.

And a considerable amount of extra training waiting for him.