Lying in bed that evening Azrael simply stared at the ceiling, although his mind was far from there. The information he’d been given had been… a lot. Dwarves, elves, beastkin. There were other races. And magic! Empires. Magic nukes. Artifacts.

He shook his head, breaking his gaze away from the ceiling. There was too much to sort through. Other races meant… he wasn’t sure what it meant. His mind was still too full to think. Although, a few things did stand out.

There were other artifacts out there, which meant magitech was a possibility. According to some rumors Bartlos had heard other players had also managed to make artifacts. He wasn’t sure how that would work. Did they also use runes, and if yes, then were they the same?

That brought up another interesting question. How did they know these runes then? He had {Rune Master} to help him, but what about them. How did they power their artifacts if they didn’t have runes?

Also, mana. Bartlos had said that the Gods had revoked their gift of magic. How did that work?

He summoned a flame above an outstretched palm. How could he use magic then? If the Gods had revoked mana, why him? Was he chosen? No. The answer dawned on him as soon as he thought about it. He wasn’t chosen, he was a Chosen.

The Gods had granted players magic. Why? He slipped into his soul, watching glimpses of his core shine through the soul mist. Cairn had called it a ‘Divine Spark’. A spark was a catalyst, in this case for mana it seemed. Despite watching it for several minutes he didn’t have any great breakthrough. He tried controlling the soul mist to let him see more, but it was like shovelling water with his hands. It always rushed back to fill what he had taken.

Infuriatingly, it only let him get short glimpses. It was like parents teasing a child with their Christmas present. The child knew that it was theirs, but their parents wouldn’t let them see it.

Giving up, Azrael tried to slip into [Meditation]. He never made it, instead slipping into a restless sleep.

The next morning Azrael woke, feeling frightfully unrested.

Peeking out his window, he saw that dawn hadn’t even properly broken yet. Outside however, Alena was already practicing her knife throwing skills. She gave him a terse nod when she sensed him, before continuing her practice.

After seeing her practice, and after all the information he gotten last night, he was feeling a bit antsy. Sure, he’d been restless for a while, but a bit of [Meditation] would usually help solve it. Bartlos had given him much to thin… Bartlos! Gods above!

Azrael rushed inside, grabbing five mana stones and several pieces of rock. He’d promised five magic torches last night, but had been so preoccupied with all the information he’d gotten that he’d forgotten.

Shaping all the stones into equal sized cylinders he split them in half, adding rune channels to both of the inner sides and adding a mana crystal into each, before closing it up again. The final part was a sort of screw on lid with the light rune on it. Screw it tight and the channels would connect, activating the rune. Unscrew it and they would separate.

It was a crude system, but then again, they were disposable artifacts. The mana in the mana stone would either run out, or the stone would degrade from use. Plus the entire thing was too small to put a mana accumulator formation into anyways. He shrugged. Not his problem.

Gathering them up he left Alena to her practice and headed towards the village. Azrael entered the village under [Stealth] and eventually found Bartlos in the Cairn’s hut. The two men were in fierce bartering session.

It seemed despite Bartlos’ friendship with Cairn he was still a [Merchant] at heart. Deciding to stay still and observe the free entertainment Azrael watched the two men verbally volley back and forth.

Bartlos made a slightly cartoonish figure, being portly as he was. With every exaggerated wave of his hands his stomach would jiggle a little bit and each word he spoke sent his moustache dancing wildly. Cairn on the other hand was half raised from his seat, threatening to topple forward as he tried to haggle the price down. The two made quite the comedic duo.

Bartlos waved his hands again “Do you know the troubles I…”

Cairn cut in “But think of the children! What are we going to do for the mid festival if you…”

Azrael decided he’d had enough, and dropped [Stealth]. Both men jumped at his sudden appearance and nearly toppled out of their chairs. Azrael nonchalantly placed the five hand torches onto the table. It still took several seconds for the men to recover.

Cairn’s face filtered from fright to shock and then to reverence. Bartlos on the other hand went from startled to combat ready, before laying his eyes on the torches on the table. Disbelief, glee and greed all flashed over his face in a second, before being replaced with cool professionalism.

He rose, dropping into a bow before Azrael.

“My lord.”

Cairn followed suit a moment later. Azrael almost smiled. Despite Bartlos’ cool demeanour, his fingers were twitching as if he was holding himself back from touching the torchs.

Azrael swept his hand towards them “Feel free to inspect the wares.”

Faster than anything Azrael had seen, Bartlos’ hand snatched out and grabbed one of the hand torches. Inquisitive fingers touched it all over, exploring every surface. Then they found the screw-on lid.

Azrael was about to warn him but before he could the rune activated, blinding and startling Bartlos. Startled and suddenly blind Bartlos fumbled with the torch, nearly dropping it. He turned it off.

“Impressive my lord. Truly impressive. Where did you say you found it?”

Azrael just smiled “I didn’t”

“Quite right, quite right. Pardon me.”

“Five torches at seven gold each” Azrael said. “comes to thirty-five gold in total.”

Cairn nearly choked when he heard the sum.

Only now did Bartlos seem to realise the implications of his deal. Azrael saw his body visibly deflate as calculations went through the man’s head. With a final sigh the merchant placed down the torch on the table. He gave Azrael a strained smile.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of one merchant’s entire caravan and ten gold, minus two horses.”

Azrael held his hand out to the devastated merchant, a smile on his own face.

“A pleasure doing business with you.”