As Galen admired the shield, a calculating glint entered his eyes. "Given its rarity and quality," he began, his tone measured, "I'd be willing to offer you 200 gold coins for this magnificent shield."
Rian's brow furrowed slightly at the offer. While he understood the value of the shield, he couldn't shake the feeling that Galen's price was far too low. Before he could agree, however, he decided to consult the System for guidance.
[Hey System, is 200 gold coins a fair price for the Dragon Scale Shield?] Rian thought.
[Analyzing...]
After a moment, the System responded, [Based on the shield's rarity, craftsmanship, and market demand, a fair price would be closer to 800 gold coins.]
"With respectdo you think I'm that Dumb?, Galen,I'm afraid 200 gold coins is too low for such a rare and valuable item," Rian stated firmly.
As Rian firmly expressed his refusal to accept Galen's offer of 200 gold coins, Galen let out a hearty laugh, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "Well, well, it seems you have a good sense in trade, kid," Galen remarked, his tone laced with amusement. "You're sharper than you look."
After a moment of contemplation, Galen leaned in closer, his expression serious yet intrigued. "Alright, how about this?" he proposed, his voice lowering slightly. "I'll offer you 1000 gold coins for the shield. It's a fair price considering its rarity and craftsmanship, wouldn't you say?"
"Deal," he replied, his voice firm. "1000 gold coins it is."
Galen grinned, shaking Rian's hand firmly. "A pleasure doing business with you, kid," he said, genuine respect evident in his tone. "You've got a keen eye for value. If you ever come across more treasures from your adventures, you know where to find me."
As Rian sat perched atop the sturdy tree, the cool breeze rustling through the leaves, he couldn't help but notice the state of his clothes. Glancing down at his attire, he realized with a grimace that they were dirty, stained with blood, torn from sword slashes, and frayed from magical encounters.
A sigh escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Rian leaped off the sturdy tree and made his way back into town. As he entered the bustling streets, he sought out a nearby clothes store, eager to refresh his worn-out attire.
Pushing open the door to the shop, Rian was greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of garments in various styles and colors. His eyes scanned the racks until they settled on a selection of all-black outfits, each exuding a sense of sleekness.
Approaching the display, Rian carefully selected four to five all-black outfits that would provide him with both comfort and stealth during his journeys. In addition, he picked out three black robes with hoods, ideal for blending into the shadows.
He walked up to the counter and placed his selections in front of the clerk, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and an amiable demeanor. She quickly tallied up the total.
"That will be 10 gold coins, sir," she said with a smile.
Rian silently reached into his pouch, counted out the coins, and handed them to the clerk. She accepted the payment with a nod.
"Thank you very much. Safe travels, adventurer," she said as she handed him his purchase, neatly wrapped in a sturdy cloth bag.
Rian gave a brief nod of thanks before turning to leave the shop. As he stepped back out into the bustling streets, his mind turned to his next objective. With his new clothes securely packed, he felt a sense of readiness for the challenges ahead.
As he walked through the town, Rian noticed a small crowd gathered near the central square. Curious, he made his way over to see what was happening. In the center of the square stood a herald, reading from a scroll.
"Hear ye, hear ye! By order of the council, a grand tournament is to be held in three days' time! All skilled warriors, mages, and adventurers are invited to participate. The winner shall receive a grand prize of 5000 gold coins and a rare magical artifact!"
The announcement sparked a buzz of excitement among the townspeople. Rian's interest was piqued. A tournament could be an excellent opportunity to test his skills and perhaps acquire some valuable rewards.
Three days passed in a blur of excitement and anticipation. Rian spent his time honing his skills and preparing for the tournament ahead. When the day finally arrived, he made his way to the registration area, where a line of eager participants awaited their turn.
As he approached the registration desk, a stern-looking official glanced up from his parchment, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "Name?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"Rian," he replied confidently, meeting the official's gaze without hesitation.
The official nodded, jotting down his name before pausing, a curious glint in his eyes. "And your age?" he inquired, his tone laced with skepticism.
Rian hesitated for a moment, aware that his youthful appearance often led others to underestimate him. But he held his ground, meeting the official's gaze with unwavering determination.
"Nineteen," he stated firmly, his voice carrying a hint of defiance.
The official arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Rian's assertiveness. After a moment of silent appraisal, he begrudgingly recorded Rian's age and handed him a numbered badge.
"Best of luck in the tournament, Rian," the official muttered, a grudging respect evident in his tone as he acknowledged Rian's resolve.
As Rian waited in the bustling waiting room, he couldn't help but notice that he wasn't the only one who seemed younger than expected among the participants. Several others, with the same determined glint in their eyes, shared his youthful appearance, yet exuded an air of seasoned experience.
Keeping his guard up, Rian observed his fellow competitors discreetly, noting the subtle hints of skill and determination etched upon their faces. It was clear that despite their age, they were not to be underestimated.
Just as the tension in the room began to mount, the tournament announcer entered, a commanding presence that demanded attention. With a flourish of his cloak, he addressed the assembled contestants, his voice ringing clear and authoritative.
"Welcome, brave warriors, mages, and adventurers, to the grand tournament!" he boomed, his words echoing off the walls. "Before we begin, let me explain the rules."
The room fell silent as the announcer laid out the guidelines for the upcoming battles:
"Rule number one: Combatants are to engage in honorable combat, using only weapons and magic approved by the council. Any use of forbidden spells or artifacts will result in immediate disqualification."
"Rule number two: Matches will be fought in a series of rounds, with each participant facing off against a randomly chosen opponent. The winners of each match will advance to the next round, until only one remains."
"Rule number three: Surrender is allowed, but only if both parties agree to end the match peacefully. Any attempt to force a surrender through coercion or trickery will be met with severe consequences."
"Rule number four: Outside interference is strictly prohibited. Any attempt to aid or hinder a contestant during their match will result in both parties being disqualified."
"Rule number five: The tournament will continue until a single victor emerges. The winner shall receive the grand prize of 5000 gold coins and a rare magical artifact, bestowed upon them by the council."
The tension in the room reached its peak as the announcer concluded his speech. With a final nod of acknowledgment, he turned to the roster in his hand, scanning the names of the participants.
"And now," he declared, his voice resounding with authority, "let the battles begin! When I call your name, please walk into the arena for battle."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the announcer called out, "Rian, step forward and prepare to enter the arena!"
Rian stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the arena ahead. As he made his way to the weapon rack, his eyes scanned the array of weapons available for the combatants. His fingers trailed over the familiar weight of daggers, their sleek forms promising speed and precision in battle.
Beside him, his opponent approached the rack with a purposeful stride, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. With a decisive gesture, they reached for a formidable morning star, its spiked head glinting in the dim light of the arena.
The contrast between Rian's agile daggers and his opponent's imposing morning star was stark, yet each weapon held its own promise of victory in the impending clash.
As soon as the announcer signaled the start of the match, Rian surged forward with determination, his dagger poised for a lethal strike aimed at his opponent's neck. With lightning speed, he closed the distance between them, his movements fueled by adrenaline and focused intent.
However, his opponent proved to be as skilled as they were quick-witted. With a swift sidestep, they narrowly avoided Rian's intended blow, the sharp edge of his dagger grazing their neck, leaving behind only a shallow cut.
As Rian's opponent evaded his initial strike, a smirk formed on their face, triggering a surge of rage within Rian as he saw a chilling resemblance to King Gulliver's smirk. In that moment, his vision blurred with red.
Rian lunged forward with a ferocity that caught his opponent off guard. In a flash of movement, he appeared behind his opponent before they could react, his dagger poised to strike with lethal precision.
But instead of delivering a fatal blow, Rian channeled his fury into a calculated maneuver. With a swift and decisive motion, he delivered a powerful strike, breaking his opponent's arm and forcing them to drop the morning star.
The sound of bone snapping echoed through the arena as Rian's opponent cried out in pain, their weapon clattering to the ground. With their arm incapacitated, they stumbled backward, their expression contorted in agony.
As Rian's opponent fell to their knees, clutching their broken arm in agony, Rian seized the opportunity to deliver a devastating knee strike to their face. The force of the blow sent his opponent sprawling onto their back, dazed and disoriented.
Without hesitation, Rian pounced on top of his fallen opponent, his fists raining down upon them with relentless fury. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, the sound echoing throughout the arena as Rian unleashed his pent-up rage.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as Rian's onslaught continued, his relentless assault leaving his opponent battered and bloodied beneath him. With each strike, Rian's vision remained clouded with rage, his senses dulled by the primal urge to overpower his adversary.
Despite his opponent's feeble attempts to defend themselves, they were no match for Rian's ferocity. Blow after blow landed with bone-crushing force, until finally, his opponent lay motionless on the ground, their face a mangled mess of blood and bruises.
As the reality of what he had done began to sink in, Rian's rage slowly faded away, replaced by a chilling calmness. He rose to his feet
Rian walked off the arena, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his actions. The echo of his opponent's defeat reverberated in his mind, casting a shadow over his victory in the round. As he made his way back to the waiting room, the tournament announcer's voice filled the air, declaring Rian as the winner of the match with a mixture of awe and concern.
"Victory goes to Rian!" the announcer boomed, his words ringing out across the arena.
As he reached the relative solitude of the waiting room, Rian sank onto a nearby bench, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The cheers of the crowd outside were muffled by the walls around him, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the lingering echoes of the battle.
With a heavy sigh, Rian closed his eyes and focused on regulating his breathing, willing himself to find calm amidst the storm of emotions raging within him.