Even though he thought there was something off about how it tasted, he still absolutely missed the taste of dirty street dishes.
"Take this fucker with you." The shop door opened behind him, with old Jenkins pushing his frowning son into Harambe. "I promise he'll get you there without any questions."
The old man rushed back inside his arms shop, seeking something to probably give as a send off.
Meanwhile, his shameless son shamelessly asked for something in return. "Please buy me food… good friend..."
The father and son duo was fighting for a dusty, gray mace with several visible cracks casually lying on top of a plinth alongside a couple other maces. According to what's written on a note on the plinth, all of these maces were only normal grade.
Harambe felt nostalgia, at how incompetent Jenkins was in appraising weapons still. A legendary mace with runic carvings that were fit for the elite, stashed away with common maces that were frowned upon even by common foot soldiers.
Although…
"Why are you hiding your expertise?" Harambe randomly threw out a question. "You clearly know that it's a fantastic weapon."
"Huh? As I told you, I am just a humble low-level appraiser denounced by many as nothing but a hack." The way Jenkins said those words gave Harambe the answer he needed to know. "Let it go, Gen!
If he's a hack, then he wouldn't have known Draken picked out an amazing pistol out of the trash bin.
"How many times do I have to teach you this lesson old man?" Gen was furiously fighting his old man. "These kinds of fantastic merchandise are not to be given away for free!"
Harambe watched as the two fought for the mace in excess. Gen seemed to know how valuable this mace was, while Jenkins didn't care at all.
Another thing Harambe noticed was every single piece on display could be bought by copper mitras. An excellent price, considering most of what's on offer were low quality weapons and armor.
Which means if someone gets lucky or has a good eye for weapons, that person might actually get away with a steal… and earn himself a ticket to escape Nowhere.
"We owe him. That's the least I could do. Give up."
With a strong tug, Jenkins finally grabbed a hold of the spiked mace. He wore an apologetic smile, as he ran his hand through its small, yet numerous cracks.
"Take care of this thing." He started his story with a curious expression. "If word got out that this mace had survived, it might cause a pandemonium you can't handle."
"It's fine." He handed a small communication talisman with the engraving of a lamp to Jenkins. "Because you'd help me with that."
Jenkins' eyes went wide in shock. He expected the man to be some kind of learned big shot, but he didn't expect him to be a Seeker. "You're a Seeker?"
Without answering, Harambe slowly walked out of the shop, hiding his haul of chainmail and mace inside his storage ring. If what Erikson told him were true, Jenkins would follow him and help him get back together with Cleo and the rest.
***
Inside the burlap sack, yesterday.
Harambe was down and out.
Learning about mana blocking was an arduous task, even if Erikson was only teaching him the basics.
Throughout the entire afternoon, he took so many hits, but hit Erikson back so many times in return. Erikson told him that one of mana blocking's biggest capabilities was dulling the pain around the area of effect.
You can practically incapacitate your opponent without them knowing what hit them.
"That's what I did to you… well it's not like dulling the sensation had any effect on you…" Erikson's voice trailed away at the end, keeping Harambe from hearing the latter part of his statement.
"Nor did it ever work like that…" Erikson's voice was almost a whisper.
Harambe could see the countless bruises on his body from repeated punches, kicks, and hits he received. He tried manifesting a shield all over his body with his mana, but couldn't even muster enough mana to cover his pinky finger.
"Impressive." He couldn't help but gasp, but what surprised him the most was how much his senses had been dulled by mana blocking.
He couldn't feel a thing.
"Come, eat this apple." Erikson tapped the soil with his staff, and another fruit fell to Harambe.
The revitalizing power of the apple once again showed its wonders on Harambe's body. The paleness of his skin had returned, the bruises vanished, his mana was no longer blocked.
Apples are slowly becoming his favorite fruit.
"Now that I've taught you the basics, I'll send you off with this." Erikson handed Harambe a communication talisman, a talisman that could be used to store voice messages, for future use. "Go to the central market in Nowhere, and find Jenkins. Give this to him."
Harambe was still glowing from the after effects of consuming the wondrous apple, but he knew it's time to find mistress Cleo and the others again. He didn't even ask who the fuck this guy is.
"I hope you find what you're looking for." Erikson's voice sounded ominous, but Harambe didn't give it much thought.
"Thank you, for the wonderful gift of mana blocking."
"If the Yggdrasil permits, we'll meet again." Erikson tapped the ground with the butt of his staff and Harambe's world swirled.
A few seconds later, he was outside the burlap sack, a day after he entered it.
"I should've asked for some mitras…"
***
Harambe held several sticks of roasted meat and innards in one hand satiating his hunger while waiting for what Jenkins would do outside his shop.
Peering through the shaded glass storefront, Harambe couldn't spot Jenkins anywhere. He could only see Gen looking at him with a menacing stare.
Or is he looking at my food?
Harambe ate one, without looking away.
Gen's menacing stare didn't falter, instead it intensified. He also was unable to hide the gulps, and the drool at the corner of his mouth, clearly envious of what Harambe's eating.
What followed the staring contest was a strong hit to the back of Gen's head… by his father no less…
As Gen found himself sprawled on the ground after such a sudden and solid strike, Harambe was barely able to hold himself back from laughing at his misfortune. It took him a skewer of delicious chicken gizzard, and a skewer of roasted pig blood tofu.
He turned away and stuffed the remaining skewers of meat he bought from across the street, to his mouth. These delectable, yet somewhat dirty dishes of his first life's youth were something he missed dearly. Ever since he became the rising star of the Sunset Legion… simple treats like these became obsolete… in favor of useless champagne, needlessly high quality meat, and those god awful field rations.
"Here, knock yourself out." Harambe threw a small bag of copper mitras at Gen, who rejoiced at his successful extortion attempt. Harambe wondered how he could avoid being scammed by the street vendors with his inability to count.
"I know you have a good side in you, and I love free stuff!
Right as Gen slipped away, old Jenkins exited his shop. He held a dusty communication talisman that most likely had a sound record inside.
"Please, give this to whoever's currently in charge of the Third Division."