Ever-life Stone
In a fleeting moment after taking the second step, Al's entire world plunged into darkness, and he found himself sprawled on the floor of a room strikingly similar to the one he had just departed.
As he rose from the ground, his gaze shifted from the portal to the five shops in the new room. He felt he had outsmarted the hooded figure from the previous room, bringing a smirk to Al's face.
He strode purposefully towards the closest shop, a storehouse of gear and attire. A young man ran the shop effortlessly, holding a cluster of smoldering wooden sticks in the palm of a cotton glove, unaffected by the dancing flames.
A middle-aged man observed the shopowner with astonishment, his fingers gently stroking his beard. "That's incredible! I must have it for my entire wardrobe," he exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe.
With a polite smile, he charged 150 merits. The middle-aged man, brimming with delight, eagerly handed over his C-stone.
The youthful owner beamed with pride as he guided his customer toward an immense ink contraption. The ink itself was a deep, captivating shade of blue.
Methodically, he imprinted a star-shaped sigil upon every article of clothing. After he was done, he lifted the man's sleeve and placed a lit candle beneath it, demonstrating his newfound fire resistance. The man left pleased with his purchase.
It was Al's turn, and the young salesman extended a friendly introduction. "Greetings! As you witnessed, we specialize in crafting garments impervious to flames and decay. It's all thanks to our closely guarded ink recipe." Casting a curious glance at Al's worn medical robes, "However.... the resilience provided is weak to tears or rips."
Pausing to see if Al had anything to add, he continued, "Given your small robe, we can stamp it with our seal for a modest sum of 75 merits."
Al erupted into laughter, replying, "No, no. I would actually enjoy watching these tattered rags turn to ashes." With a decisive gesture, Al directed the salesman's attention to a suit of gleaming steel armor, his eyes alight with intrigue.
The salesman fumbled with his words, an awkward response escaping his lips. "That's merely a display. We don't actually sell wearable items here. Our only product is our secret flowing ink technique. That's what we offer."
Al's smile wavered. "Then why showcase it? Is it a sales tactic to attract customers? If it is a display, you can easily find a replacement."
The salesman chuckled, shaking his head, trying to convey his point. "That's not quite what I meant. It's just..." He pondered briefly, realizing that the displayed item held little genuine value to him beyond its aesthetic appeal.
Promptly reaching a decision, he offered, "You know what since you seem knowledgeable and understand what you're after, how about 100 merits?"
Al snorted derisively at the proposed price. "You wanted to charge me 75 merits to mark these rags I'm wearing with your ink technique. I'm sure your technique is worth much more than a hunk of metal."
The salesman started to get annoyed as he gazed at Al. "It sounds like more than just a hunk of metal to you, which is why I'm sure you're willing to spend 100 merits for it," he declared with a hint of conviction.
Silence filled the air as both men locked eyes, their resolve unyielding, neither willing to concede. In a sudden move, Al thrust his right hand forward, clutching his C-stone, only to retract it swiftly while speaking, "Actually, I was hoping to acquire some of that extraordinary ink for the armored suit as well..."
The shopowner's frown evaporated. "Very well, since you're also interested in getting it marked, I'll show you some grace. 250 merits for both," he proposed. Al's face contorted into a frown. "But you only charged the previous customer l50 merits."
The shopowner scoffed dismissively, retorting, "Ah, you see, the bulk of the material adds to the cost since it will require more marks. How about this? I'll mark your robe and sell you the armor all for 150 merits."
Al reluctantly agreed, and the shopowner swiftly retrieved the suit of armor, gesturing for Al to follow. He led him to a corner in his shop where the ink stamping machine was. He extended his hand, asking for Al's C-stone.
After being paid with an abrupt motion, the shopowner lifted a portion of Al's medical robe, exposing his rear. Laughter erupted from some onlookers while others chastised Al for not wearing underwear. In the adjacent weapons shop, a lecherous old man relished the scene.
The shopowner averted his gaze and promptly marked the robe. He didn't bother subjecting the garment to fire to demonstrate its fire resistance. He just wanted to end the transaction.
Al's face was flushed with embarrassment as he reclaimed his C-stone and hastily donned the entire suit of armor. Surprisingly, it fit him well. Thanking the shopowner, he left while the shopowner grappled with the awkwardness of the encounter.
Walking through the room, Al noticed an elderly man trailing behind him. The armor was heavy and stifled his movement. Al was getting ready to exit when a tug yanked at his hand.
Al spun around to find the short old man pulling him, "Please, come with me. I would be honored to have you enter my humble shop." the man stated. Al hesitated but could do nothing, his mind filled with questions. "What's with this old man's strength?"
They arrived at the man's shop, brimming with various weapons, from bows and arrows to knives, pistols, and rifles. The short old man pulled out a small green chair, gesturing for Al to sit. However, Al's attempts to lower himself while wearing the armor proved futile, causing him to stay standing.
The short old man, who had started brewing tea in his shop, frowned at Al's awkward movements. He walked over and launched himself at Al's helmet, stabbing him with a small knife in the center of his forehead.
After sticking the knife into Al's helmet, he balanced himself on the handle with his right foot, managing a remarkable feat.
Al had no time to react. The suit's weight had significantly slowed him down, and even without it, he wasn't confident in his ability to match the old man's speed.
Thankfully, Al was still breathing. He raised his right hand to feel the knife's handle. The blade had undeniably penetrated his helmet. Al, bewildered, uttered, "Did... did the blade go through my head? Why doesn't it hurt?"
The old man, still balancing on Al's head, forcefully kicked out, knocking Al onto his back and landing on the floor. "What the hell is wrong with you? I thought there was a 'no killing' inside the 15th Blood Ring," Al exclaimed, struggling to regain his footing.
The old man retorted, "I'm not trying to kill you. On the contrary, I'm teaching you a lesson. Do you understand the purpose of a weapon?" Al tugged at the knife atop his helmet and replied, "To make killing easier?"
Walking over and pouring tea into two cups, the old man responded, "No, a weapon is meant to be the ultimate extension of your will. Your body is the weapon at your disposal. So how can you not see you're getting in the way of your weapon with such a heavy suit?"
Al was struck by the old man's words and enlightened by their unexpected wisdom. He had never contemplated it from that perspective, even as a boxer.
Removing his helmet, Al set it down on the table alongside the tea, revealing the inside where the blade had somehow transformed into a thin plate, molding itself around the helmet, averting the fatal blow. Studying the old man more closely, Al noticed the name "Cevallos" on his gray robe.
The man caught Al's gaze and quickly introduced himself. "My name is Mario Cevallos."
Al introduced himself in a subdued voice, "I'm Alexander Adamos, but you can just call me Al." Mario approached Al's helmet, carefully lifting it by the knife's handle. The metal plate formed by the blade appeared to spring back to life, returning to its original shape.
Mario was somewhat bashful as he explained, "As you can see, I cultivate Metal Will."
Mario continued, "With Metal Will being common in the Cevallos bloodline, I took after my uncle's and grandfather's business as a blacksmith. The accumulated experience of generations exists within my weapons. Please look around and remember everything is discounted."
Al almost spit out the tea when he realized Mario was trying to work him into a sale. Everything Mario had said was to get Al to buy something.
Slowly, Al put the tea back on the table. The heat from the tea and the sudden pressure he felt to purchase something caused beads of sweat to form on his forehead. Mario was standing at the exit with a peculiar smile.
Al put his helmet back on and looked around the store at the different weapons. Seeing the cheapest-looking thing, a scratched longsword, Al pointed at it and asked Mario for the price of it, to which Mario responded, "Sheesh, kid, did you hear anything I said?"
After seeing Al persist on the sword, he walked over and picked it up. "It's still a Cevallos original, so that will run you 25 merits discount price." Al gave him his C-stone. He wanted to leave as fast as he could. The shopkeeper's sales tactics were way more aggressive than he was used to.
Mario gave him back his C-stone with the old rusty long sword. Al quickly turned and exited when Mario stopped him, saying, "Wait. I have a friend of mine who would love to meet you." Al almost turned pale hearing that and looked around desperately, looking for a way out. That's when he noticed that across the exit was another dark portal with stone symbols outlining it.
Al looked back at Mario, who was walking towards him, and said, "I'm actually supposed to meet with a friend up ahead. I'm short on time.
Al quickly headed to the next gate, his mind racing with thoughts. "A little lie to keep this old monster off my back. I'll spend a brief moment in the next room and then return to Cesar," he thought, determined.
He briskly walked past a line of stones, their surfaces etched with peculiar symbols. Suddenly, the two farthest symbols began to emit a mesmerizing blue glow, just like before. However, this time, Al felt an immediate and even more powerful pressure descend upon his entire body and mind.
Undeterred, he mustered the strength to press forward, stepping into a layer of darkness. Unlike his previous encounter, Al was engulfed in a world devoid of light, as if swimming through a thick, suffocating substance resembling sand. Finally, he felt his foot touch something solid, walking out of the suffocating darkness.
Al found himself in another room reminiscent of the two he had encountered. However, the individuals here all appeared to be in their thirties.
Al hurriedly removed his helmet and lifted his head, holding his nose, which had begun to bleed from the pressure the portal had exerted on him. A woman in a nearby shop promptly approached him, offering a piece of paper. As he was about to accept it, Al paused and instead used his medical robe to wipe away the blood.
The woman discreetly put the paper away and spoke, "This must be your first time entering the second door of the first floor. Nosebleeds like that are quite common, and some even faint. The deeper you venture, the more unbearable the pressure becomes."
Al's curiosity piqued, he asked eagerly, "How many doors are there?"
With a calm voice, the woman replied, "There are four doors on the first floor and a total of nine floors. You can do the math."
Al's jaw dropped in astonishment. The immense pressure he had just experienced felt inconceivable, but now he couldn't even fathom what awaited him on the highest floor.
As Al glanced around, his eyes were drawn to a colossal green sign proudly displaying the words "Alchemistry & Runeology." Intrigued, he looked back at the woman and introduced himself.
She kindly responded, "Nice to meet you, Alexander. Allow me to explain what we offer since this is your first visit. On my left, you'll find a collection of three different fundamental runes and one vital rune. On my right, we have pre-concocted elixirs and potions that cater to various effects on the body, mind, and spirit. Point to any item, and I'll provide a quick description. You'll receive three free canteens if you spend over 100 merits."
Al closed his eyes briefly, massaging his temple in contemplation. He turned to the saleswoman earnestly and expressed his concerns: "You're right, ma'am. This is indeed my first time here, and I don't have the type of currency to purchase things by the hundreds. However, I don't want to be ill-prepared compared to others. Is there any item you consider necessary for a novice like me?"
The woman paused momentarily, a knowing smile gracing her lips, before replying, "Funny enough, there's one particular item that is always in high demand among those who have just awoken their wills."
She reached for a stone roughly the size of a small water bottle. Covered in vibrant green moss, it bore a simple symbol at its center—a straight line with a smaller line tilted on top.