The meeting between the two men ended a little while later, with both participants appearing particularly satisfied afterwards. As Brock left Beatrice’s Bakery after bidding the woman herself a goodbye, he glanced down to the inert remains of his bracer. A quick flex showed that the blade no longer had any length to release and all that lay on the underside was frayed wire.

Fortunately, before they both departed, Hiroto – or the ‘Patriarch’ to many – had noticed the situation of his armament and recommended Donte’s Smithery if he was looking for a replacement. Apparently, he was recognised as one of the best smiths in the city and was quite skilled in his craft.

Anybody who was anybody in the city got their weapons from him. Jane included. Brock knew that his item had many intricate parts, courtesy of his brother’s handiwork, so he was excited to see what ‘Donte’ could do for him.

Of course, he could always go back to his brother for repairs and improvements, as he had no doubt his brother’s skill and abilities would have increased in potency severalfold by now, but he’d rather not travel across the continent and the outback that was in the way to get there. It’d be an interesting adventure, but not one he wanted nor needed.

Hiroto had mentioned that his weapon might take a while to be commissioned, as Donte was always busy with other high-profile client’s requests, but Brock thought that was fine. He had plenty of other daggers in his spatial ring – although they had long fallen behind his level of power - and he didn’t really think he’d be fighting for a while anyway.

Not until Jane was awake and back to full health at least.

Walking through the city was a pleasant affair as always, with the stunning traditional architecture and blended natural environments of trees and streams painting a stunning vista in every direction he looked. Hiroto had built himself quite a beautiful city, so much so that Brock felt it would become a popular tourist destination in the future.

On the contrary, Sanctuary looked like it had had a nuclear bomb dropped onto it.

He noticed that quite a few people snuck glances his way as he passed by, although it was less out of fear like he expected and more admiration. The majority of the population was sitting toward the end of the 40s, with even just non-combat civilians sitting in the low 30s, though he had no idea how.

From the few warriors he’d seen so far, most were at the height of 40, close to breaking 50. Other than them, he’d caught sight of a very rare few people wearing more elaborate armours than their peers. From their auras, Brock estimated them to be around his level, if not a little lower or higher. Apparently, to be above 50 was considered quite a feat, and it garnered respect here.

Good to know, I guess?

Even a few of those level 50+ warriors had nodded his way politely as he had passed them by, detecting his level at 57. Originally, he remembered how he had worried that people would out level him, but it seemed that his penchant for fighting exceedingly overwhelming foes was enough to keep pace with everyone else, for now at least.

Not that he really cared for power anyway. It was more or less something he gained as he pursued whatever goal was ahead of him. Kind of like a nice little bonus for getting fucked every single time he did anything.

As he wandered the bustling streets, eventually, Brock found himself lost. Aside from that, he realised that he actually had no idea where Donte’s Smithery was. Smacking his forehead and sighing, he approached a man at one of the many market stalls nearby.

From what he could see, he was selling fresh produce and appeared quite stunned by Brock’s presence and attention.

“Can… can I help you sir?” his voice tried to keep its salesman’s edge but came out rather quiet.

Brock nodded and gave a small smile. It was hard to hold a conversation with someone who seemed to think you were superior because of power, “Uh yeah. You know where Donte’s Smithery is?”

The man furrowed his brows for a second, and Brock saw his face drop slightly as he realised he wasn’t here to buy his wares, but he pointed to the street on their left, nonetheless, “Its… uh… to the left, then on the first right.”

“Thanks, mate.” A small pink crystal appeared in his hand and Brock chucked it to the man. Immediately as Brock began to walk off, the shop owner’s eyes widened to saucers and he clutched the crystal close, thanking Brock profusely as his back receded into the distance.

He smiled softly as he trekked into the street on the left. A hundred thousand isn’t even all that much.

The street was a relatively long one, with dozens of shop vendors in stalls on the sidewalks, populated by a cacophony of yells as they fought for the attention of passers-by. None were selling anything he really wanted, although he did see a few Shards of Awakening up for sale, surprisingly enough. None were above rare, however.

Though, to the occasional person he saw possessing a common Ascendancy, he assumed it wouldn’t matter.

Just as he was about to pass the row of stalls, Brock felt a tug from his cells and froze dead in his tracks. He glanced over to an unassuming stall on his right, where a bowl of various fruits was sat. The shop vendor saw his gaze and beamed lightly, subtly inviting him in with an aura of friendliness.

Curious, Brock approached.

The vendor spewed some mumbo jumbo about her ‘high-quality wares’, but Brock ignored her for the most part. Instead, he sifted through the bowl of fruit and found what looked like a strawberry.

Its haired skin was pitch black and the plethora of seeds that dotted it were of a radiant ivory. The latter emitted a dim light, and while it certainly made his cells hungry, Brock could tell it’d only raise his race level by one or two.

“Oh. You’re interested in the Treasure, huh? You have a low race level?” the vendor, an older woman, said. She looked somewhat uninterested, as though it wasn’t all that rare an item.

Brock nodded for sake of it, “How much?”

She quirked her brow and snorted, “Ten thousan- huh?”

He had a pink crystal containing ten thousand Shards resting on the counter as soon as she began speaking. She glanced down at it, then at him, and a small smile broke out on her face, “Well. If you’re so interested in them, then here.”

She reached under the table and hefted out a stone box, her arms shaking at the weight. As she peeled off the lid, Brock’s cells abruptly became ravenous as a wave of energy splashed against his face and indulged him in vitality. There was several more strawberries within, but also apples and oranges of various colours, “Where’d you get all these?”

She smirked, “Got a small plantation at my house. The seeds in the things aren’t just for show, you know?”

Brock’s eyes brightened immensely, and he dropped a flat five hundred thousand Shards on the counter. The woman didn’t even respond as her eyes flashed with greed and she snatched it and tucked it into her pocket. Brock placed the other strawberry in the box and closed the lid before storing it in his spatial ring.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” The woman chuckled heartily, clearly happy with how things developed. Her grin was so wide that if it widened any further it’d lop her head in two.

Brock walked away, probably just as happy, if not more so. None of the Treasures were anything to write home about, enough for a few levels or so each. Still, that’d net him around 20 or so levels in his race, maybe less as his level increased and he required more energy to advance.

That wasn’t his intention with them, however.

While the added knowledge that he should be able to grow his own was priceless, his true intention was to start boosting the race levels of both Fon and Harry, and potentially gain them some Augments. Or another in Harry’s case.

If the woman could grow her own, then Hiroto and his Dojo certainly had also, so he had no doubt that Jane and Carrie were well off for their race levels. They wouldn’t need his help.

Donte’s Smithery wasn’t too far of a walk away, only five minutes or so, and soon, Brock was standing outside the shop, glancing at the sign and its logo, two flaming hammers crossed over each other. He couldn’t be sure, but he swore he felt the barest trace of a fiery energy as he looked at the sign, as though it was imbued within.

Maybe it was, and that would mean this was definitely the place.

Without waiting much longer he opened the door and stepped inside, somewhat surprised that there wasn’t a door bell like he’d expected. He thought they probably needed one, as the counter was devoid of a clerk, probably doing something off in the back. Deciding he didn’t really want to yell out to them in order to be served, Brock instead took the chance to look around in peace.

There was an astounding amount of weapons and armours strewn all over the place, held in racks or up on stands. They were all pleasantly shiny, and clearly made of metal, maybe iron or silver. It wouldn’t have been too impressive, but he felt that they were almost on par with the weapons he had inherited from Ur’Kahn.

He had no way to test if they’d be able to withstand his Augment as his pathways were broken, but he felt pretty confident they would hold up, at least for a while. Tutorial weapons had been shown to be capable of it, and these seemed to possess a quality slightly above that. Oddly enough, he felt that they were of a higher quality than even his first chain-knife.

From what he knew, the knife was only around as good as a Tutorial weapon anyway.

They weren’t the quality of items he was looking for, however, and he felt his hopes diminish somewhat. Though, he held hope that these were merely for the average buyer and showcasing purposes. The blade James had made him was somewhat stronger than the weapons around him, although not by much.

He wanted something on par if not stronger.

Fortunately, there was something that caught his eye. It was a weapon – a longsword – encased in glass. Pretty thick glass too, it seemed. The item was stationed near the counter for obvious reasons, and Brock approached it. It was a stunning blade, the edge gleaming with a metallic hue of yellow. It was slight, but it was ther-

Brock stumbled back as a screen appeared over the item and caught him by surprise, “That’s… new?”

Orichalcum Longsword (Uncommon)

A high-quality longsword that has been recognised by the System as an Item. Forged by a budding yet skilled blacksmith, it possesses a keen sharpness and an immense resistance to force. Suitable for F Grade.

‘Recognised by the System as an Item’, huh?

Brock found himself pleasantly surprised by this development. He had never seen a weapon ‘recognised’ by the System and he had to admit it was an amazing blade. He could feel the traces of an Ascendancy having reinforced its length, and just by sight he could tell the metal used wasn’t originally from Earth. Instead, it was something named Orichalcum. The name rang a bell in his mind, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard of it before.

Idly, he wondered if that meant every item he’d seen so far wasn’t recognised by the System, meaning they weren’t really anything special. Briefly, he considered buying the item for later, but he didn’t have any acquaintances or friends that used a sword, so it’d just end up going to waste.

“That’s a good sword,” A young voice called out from behind, and Brock turned around to the sight of a boy no older than sixteen glancing his way, “Recognised by the System and all. It was even made from a special ore found in one of the city’s mines.”

“Yeah. It’s impressive,” Brock remarked genuinely. He looked the kid up and down, “I’m here to see Donte?”

The teenager cocked a brow, “Sorry, but my dad’s busy. Can I help you with anything?”

His words were punctuated by the sound of a hammer slamming into metal, and Brock shrugged before approaching the counter. Covertly, he checked the other weapons as he passed them by, but no description appeared. He quickly found himself rather disappointed.

When he stepped up to the desk, he got the kid to undo the bracer straps holding the item to his arm and it cluttered down onto the wood. A moment later he pulled the remains of his blade from his ring, and only earned a raised brow in response from the kid.

Ultimately, he didn’t seem to care about the spatial storage like most people Brock had seen these days, and the clerk studied the set of items for a while. Idly, he remarked on how the steel was tempered with an extremely efficient reinforcement and praised the item as one of good make.

Brock didn’t really know what ‘efficient reinforcement’ actually meant, but nodded anyway, “Yeah, it broke. Any chance your dad can make me a new one? I can pay any amount for the highest quality possible.”

It was better to have something great than get a subpar good because he was a tight ass, after all.

The teen, who was yet to introduce himself, told him to wait one moment and ran into the back, his bracer in hand. The sound of hammer hitting metal didn’t cease, although Brock heard two voices conversing, slightly drowned out by the racket. He waited for a minute or so before the boy returned.

He placed Brock’s ruined weaponry back on the counter and nodded, “My dad said he’ll see what he can ‘cook up’. We’ll need to keep the item for reference though, if that’s alright.”

Brock shrugged, “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“As for pay,” The boy paused briefly and placed the bracer underneath the counter, “it’ll depend on the quality of the item produced.”

Brock opened his mouth to speak, but the boy quickly continued, “And I can assure you my dad will produce something to the best of his ability. It’ll take a few days with all the other commissions, though.”

That pretty much answered his questions for him, and after a little more clarification on what to expect, Brock left the store, pretty satisfied with how his day went and decided that it was time to visit Carrie and his sister in hospital.

He was a bit late in his daily routine.