Merchant Crab

After weeks of traveling and training, the Champion-class adventurer had finally reached the quaint little town of Ardville. Hardly comparable to the busy metropolises he was used to in his previous life, the town had little to offer to the now much higher level human.

The local smith only sold iron and low-quality steel weapons, which the adventurer was able to easily outclass with his own smithing skills. The eyes of the old blacksmith almost popped out of his skull after seeing Ren turn a lump of rusty metal full of impurities into a flawless dagger with nothing but a couple of strikes from a dull hammer. A blade so perfect it could cut through stone like butter and turn butter into delicious ice cream on contact.

After trading the blade to the man for the entirety of his life savings, the adventurer tried the local apothecary, but all the concoctions the lady who owned it had to offer were ridiculously basic. Disappointed, Ren had no option but to brew his own potion refills using some of her very limited stock of ingredients along with his own supply.

The woman nearly fainted when she saw him crush a handful of roots together with toenail clippings from a swamp serpent. The produced result was a golden liquid with the combined properties of a health, stamina, and mana potion, along with the bonus effect of curing twenty different common ailments. And it also provided minty fresh breath for up to twelve hours.

After restocking his own supply, the adventurer sold the leftover bottles to the woman until she ran out of money on hand. At which point she simply started trading away her entire stock of ingredients, her books, and even the very tools of her trade for as many bottles as the young man had.

Leaving behind the practically empty apothecary, Ren still paid the local leatherworker a visit to try to sell a few more of the rabbit pelts he had been carrying since his first few levels. Unfortunately, the poor man was left completely penniless after the champion sold just three pelts to him. With hundreds of the animal skins still left, the champion would just have to keep finding others to offload them to. A less wise adventurer would have considered simply dumping them somewhere, but not Ren. He knew that would be a waste. Every potential gain needed to be maxed out. Efficiency was essential for success.

As the champion continued exploring Ardville, it didn’t take long until he heard the name Balthazar pop up around town. Gossip about how rich he was. Rumors about how powerful he must be to take down a dragon on his own. Tales about the epic deeds that happened down in his domain.

His home. A bazaar at the edge of town, under the nearby Semla Mountain.

Ren knew he was close. He had finally found the lair of the villain who brought him into this strange world and stripped him of his memories. Who took away who he was. And for what vile reason? The young man did not know, but he intended to find out soon, once he confronted the merchant.

Sitting on a rock, the adventurer ran a sharpening stone down the blade of his longsword as he continued watching the trading outpost on the other side of the road.

Like he had learned all those years ago when he took a summer job as an investigative journalist, patience is key when staking out a case. He couldn’t remember who the story was about, or much else about the case, but he knew he won a journalism award for his work during those two months, all thanks to his instincts and investigation skills.

Skills which he was employing now, watching that strange bazaar’s routine.

He had already considered the possibility of a trading business being merely a front, a cover for the champion’s antagonist to hide his true evil deals, whatever they really were. But it still came as a surprise when all he saw at that bazaar was a toad, green and rugged, hopping around on a counter, busily tending to the place.

He soon realized that was no mere wild animal. She—as he learned when other passing adventurers called her Henrietta—was fully sapient and capable of verbal communication.

A villain with intelligent beast slaves as his servants. It all made so much sense, the more that Ren learned about Balthazar.

At one point during his reconnaissance, around midday, the adventurer’s eyes widened as he thought the fiend himself had finally shown his face around the outpost.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for him to realize that was not his nemesis yet.

The graying man who arrived from town, walking with a wobbly pace and a foolish expression coupled with a distant gaze, could in no way be the powerful figure who had brought Ren’s soul into that world. He could tell at just a glance that the man was weak and in no way a threat.

And also because he overheard the toad call him Tristan.

All day, he watched and waited. Other adventurers came and went, stopping by to purchase supplies from the bazaar, or simply browse and have some chit-chat.

Hours passed and Ren grew impatient. He had traveled in circles around that world for weeks, learning and improving himself, becoming stronger so that he could face the one who dared take away his past. And now that he was right outside his lair, the evildoer simply wouldn’t show up?

Could he somehow be aware of the champion’s presence?

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No, surely not. Ren took all the precautions to make sure he left no tracks, no trace, nothing that would arouse suspicion. He was perfectly concealed somewhere no one would see him. He used all the same skills he gained from years going on fox hunts with aristocrats and CEOs in the forests back in his world. Plus a camouflage potion he had personally brewed that morning. ȓἈNȏ𐌱È𐌔

“Where are you, Balthazar?” the young man whispered as he looked through his spyglass yet again.

The sun was quickly disappearing over the horizon, and Ren’s hopes to get his answers that day were quickly fading along with its light.

As darkness set, the toad and the man moved around, closing shutters and lighting braziers.

The keen-eyed adventurer rubbed his chin in thought. “Why are you lighting up the bazaar if you’re closing for the day?”

Smelling something suspicious happening, Ren continued to observe the outpost as the moon rose in the sky and the pile of empty potion bottles grew next to his feet.

Finally, he spotted a figure coming down the road and toward the bazaar. The strange man skulked his way to the gate like someone who did not want to be seen, carrying a sack over one shoulder and a dim lantern on a stick over the other.

He knocked on the door, and the man called Tristan opened it for him. Ren’s eyes widened as he saw the light from inside hit the visitor.

He was no man. The traveler was a skeleton, his face a pale skull and his hands merely bones wrapped around a walking stick.

The adventurer shook his head slowly. Just when he thought this Balthazar figure couldn’t prove any more villainous.

“Consorting with foul undead,” Ren muttered. “It makes so much sense now.”

But as the young man tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside after Tristan let the skeleton in, more movement came from up the road.

The flickering light of three torches moving about in the darkness made Ren crouch down further behind the rocks as he tried to make out who carried them.

Three large humanoid figures walked up to the gate of the bazaar. Under the light of their torches, the champion could only make out that whoever they were, they definitely had flash on their bones. And muscles. Lots of muscles.

It was only when the human inside the trading outpost opened the door again to receive the new visitors and the brighter light from the braziers shone on them that Ren saw what they were.

Tall, muscular, and green. With large protruding tusks coming out of their mouths. They were orcs.

“Only a tyrant would have dealings with savage orcs,” the adventurer said to himself as he continued watching through the spyglass.

He needed to know what was happening inside that bazaar. Was Balthazar going to join them? What were they discussing? Perhaps something that would give him a clue on what they were bringing innocent people into that world for?

He needed to get closer.

Sneaking around the boulders, Ren slipped his way between the tall grass to the other side of the road, using his unrivaled stealth skills to approach the wooden building without making a sound.

As he got closer, the adventurer heard the door open again. Could they have realized he was out there?

He peeked over a boulder and saw Tristan welcome another visitor inside.

“Jor’gath!” the man greeted. “Good to see you. Come in.”

The champion only managed to catch a glimpse of the slender figure stepping through the door, but he had no doubt what he saw was also no human.

Dark green scales, an angular head, and a long tail told him it was some kind of lizard humanoid who had just joined the gathering of fiends inside.

“More beasts,” Ren whispered with disdain. “Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you who you are, Balthazar.”

Slowly and carefully, the young man reached one of the bazaar’s shutters and peeked inside.

Tristan sat on a stool by the counter, where the toad Henrietta was. The animated skeleton was sitting on a nearby crate, rubbing his knee joints. Across the room, the three orcs stood by some shelves, the larger one with his muscular arms crossed while the other two leaned against a pillar in wait. Off by a corner, partially concealed in the shadows, the lizardman stood in silence.

“Well, good to know that about the centaurs,” Henrietta said. “Thanks for letting us know, Khargol.”

The apparent leader of the orcs nodded to her.

“Any news on when Balthazar will be back?” the skeleton asked. “Everyone back at the dungeon would love to have him visit us again. They still talk about the way he took out that high-level adventurer every day, heh.”

Ren squinted through the hole in the wooden shutters, feeling disgusted by the wretched hive of scum and villainy before him, reveling in the murderous acts of their leader.

“No, nothing yet, Tom,” said Tristan. “Last we heard, he was somewhere on the other side of the continent. Hopefully chasing a good lead.”

Ren brought his ear closer to the opening on the shutters. So his nemesis wasn’t even there. He had come so far, and it all had been for naught?

Frustration built up inside the young man. He just wanted to remember. Where exactly had he come from? Who were the people in his previous life that he could not remember? Why was he there, in that strange new world?

He needed answers, and the only one he knew could give them to him was Balthazar. He needed to find him, no matter the cost.

Overtaken by frustration, the adventurer grasped the handle of the longsword strapped to his back.

If he could not get answers from his nemesis directly, he would get answers from his underlings instead.

Chugging a couple more potions to buff himself up, Ren eyed the figures inside. They might outnumber him seven-to-one, but the champion was confident in his skills. He had been meticulous ever since arriving on Heartha. Took no risks and always overprepared. Now, after weeks of training and learning, the level 30 adventurer was certain he could handle a group of minions.

From rabbits to ogres, goblins to bandits, none had yet presented a challenge to him. Every foe he met on his journey had proven underwhelming against his might.

These fiends inside would be no different. His danger sense skill told him they were all below his own level, even the bigger orc. He could easily take them out, and then he would finally know how to find Balthazar.

Activating every combat skill he had, Ren broke the shutters open and with a mighty roar charged into the bazaar, Runesteel Longsword held high and ready to strike.

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