Wizard : The Arcane odyssey

Chapter 3: Wear Again

This is a small, isolated bedroom with a sturdy door reinforced by iron bars on both sides. The spider webs in the corners, dust on the ground, and abandoned kerosene lamps all indicate that no one has lived here for a long time.

At some point, the void in the middle of the room rippled like water, and a figure quietly emerged from the ripples. It was Karl!

Karl held a broadsword in his hand and carefully scanned the room before slowly walking to the door and lifting the iron bar.

"Gah…" The rusty iron door scraped against the ground, making a slight sound that caused him to pause.

'I really don't want to be here!' he thought.

Stepping out of the room, Karl looked up at the sky, his mood sinking as he lost the absolute clarity he'd had moments before. A dense gray fog hung in the sky, obscuring any sign of day or night. The only visible object in the sky was a broken crimson star, which hadn't moved in all the time he had been coming here.

It was always like this whenever he arrived.

The "moon" in this world didn't move with the passage of time, and it even seemed to steal the authority of the scorching sun. The shattered crimson moon and the unchanging starry sky were clear indicators that he was no longer in his original world.

The cold, oppressive atmosphere also seeped into him. This was Black City—a place rich in black stone. Judging by the pointed towers, stone buildings, and intricate carvings, Black City must have once been prosperous.

But as people discovered the black stone veins underground, the city had gradually transformed into a mining town. The wealthy had fled long ago, and those who remained had become miners, enduring both the labor and the invasion of negative energy from underground.

Karl tightened his cloak and stepped forward, broadsword in hand. After taking a few steps, his eyes narrowed.

A carcass, either of a wolf or a dog, lay in the middle of the road, and carrion flies buzzed around it. Though it was clearly just a corpse, Karl remained cautious, taking a wide detour around it before continuing on.

Cracks of various sizes marred the road like scars on the earth, products of the excessive mining that had warped the terrain. Smoke would sometimes spew from the cracks, alternating between hot and cold. Ordinary people who came into contact with this smoke would fall gravely ill, and so most avoided it at all costs.

The streets were deserted, with hideous alleys and abandoned houses that seemed to harbor strange creatures, hidden in the shadows and watching him.

Karl moved quickly and quietly, passing two blocks before his destination came into view. He exhaled in relief, sheathing his broadsword at the signal of two men in black, and walked into a bustling street filled with people.

Raqqa Bazaar—an underground market in Black City.

"Rat meat, fresh and not rotten! Half a black stone per portion!"

"The finest Kalia sword! Sharp and lightweight, perfect for cutting down the half-dead!"

"Clean water! Filtered and free of impurities! Ten liters for just one black stone!"

The vendors shouted, their enthusiasm tinged with helplessness. Life in Black City was harsh—mining had severely polluted the underground water, and there was a food shortage. Only high-ranking mine managers could afford fresh food; for most, even spoiled meat could make it to the table.

"Cologne!" Karl called as he approached a familiar stall, crouching down. "Last time, you said there was a way to learn the breathing technique?"

Though these two worlds were different, there were many similarities between them—language, breathing techniques, even the written characters shared common traits. Perhaps these worlds had crossed paths in the distant past?

Cologne, a skinny man with one eye covered by a patch (after a crow pecked out the other), grinned at him. The rotting teeth in his mouth made Karl lean back in disgust.

"The breathing technique is the key for ordinary folk to become knights. Any family that possesses it wouldn't sell it lightly."

"Yes," Karl replied, unfazed, placing a bucket of milk on the ground. "Fresh milk!"

Cologne's throat rolled, and he licked his lips as he eyed the milk. "My friend, you always bring such fine things. I can't remember the last time I had fresh milk." He sighed. "But… that's not what the man with the breathing technique wants."

"Oh?" Karl frowned. "What does he want?"

"Hush…" Cologne leaned forward, lowering his voice. "A way out of Black City."

"Karl, you're clearly no ordinary man. Can you help someone leave Black City?"

"Heh," Karl rolled his eyes. "What do you think? I get food through other means. If I were truly noble, would I be here begging you for breathing techniques?"

Cologne was silent. It made sense—a true noble wouldn't lack access to such skills.

After a moment, he spoke again. "Madam Die's caravan leaves in half a month. The price to join her caravan is two thousand black stones."

"Two thousand black stones?" Karl's face darkened. He didn't have any. "I can't afford that."

"Then there's nothing we can do," Cologne said with a shrug. "I'd love to make this deal, but that person only wants to leave Black City and has no interest in food."

"Humph!" Karl grunted, picking up the milk and preparing to leave.

"Wait!" Cologne grabbed his arm. "I have something to show you."

He pulled out a small metal contraption from behind his back and fiddled with it until it made a clicking sound.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Hidden arrows?" Karl asked, though he wasn't entirely sure.

"Right!" Cologne nodded enthusiastically. "This hidden arrow device was crafted by a master. It can be adjusted to fit the arm, and it holds three arrows. Even a knight's squire would struggle to dodge it within seven steps. And if you coat the arrows with poison, you could even bring down a knight."

"In addition to the three arrows, I'll throw in six more so you can reload."

Karl's eyes brightened. He had no illusions about taking down a knight, but if it could handle a knight's squire, that was good enough.

"Of course," Cologne said with a sly grin, "a bucket of milk isn't enough for something like this."

Without hesitation, Karl handed over five pounds of bacon and pointed to a clock on the stall.

"Throw that in."

"No problem." Cologne beamed. "You have good taste, my friend. This clock came from a noble manor, and it's plated in gold."

"Pity," he added, sighing, "that a few decades ago, this would've fetched a fortune. Now, it's worth less than clean water."

Karl smiled. He was more interested in the gold. Even without it, the clock's intricate craftsmanship and artistry could fetch a nice price in the other world.