The next morning, Kael awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window and the faint hum of activity from the village square. The familiar smells of bread baking in clay ovens and the distant clang of metal on metal drifted through the air. Another day in this strange world one where survival was dictated not just by skill and strength but also by the delicate balance of trade and economy.
Kael pulled on his tunic and boots, then grabbed the small pouch hidden under his cot. Inside were a few Tier 1 Common Beast Cores the basic currency of the realm. He jingled the small, softly glowing cores lightly in his hand, their faint warmth a reminder of just how fragile his existence was here. In this world, beast cores weren't just a medium of exchange; they were often the difference between life and death.
The village marketplace was already bustling when Kael arrived. Merchants had set up wooden stalls adorned with colorful fabrics, spices, and handcrafted wares. Farmers displayed baskets of fresh produce apples, turnips, and bundles of herbs still glistening with morning dew. The air was alive with bartering voices, the occasional laughter, and the sharp retort of a deal gone sour.
Kael had learned quickly that this world operated on a tiered beast core system. At the base were Tier 1 Common Beast Cores, extracted from the weakest of creatures and used for everyday transactions, like buying bread or renting a room at the inn. Ten Tier 1 cores equaled one Tier 2 Enhanced Beast Core, used for more substantial purchases such as weapons or livestock. Above that were Tier 3 Mythic Beast Cores, rare and highly valued, typically exchanged between adventurers and craftsmen for artifacts or powerful items. Beyond Mythic cores were Tier 4 Primal Beast Cores, almost mythical in their scarcity and often used by kingdoms or guilds for extraordinary deals. Tier 5 Transcendent Beast Cores existed in legends alone, said to contain power enough to alter reality itself.
Kael approached a stall run by a familiar face: Lira, a stout woman with a warm smile who sold dried meats and preserved fruits. She had always been kind to him, often slipping him an extra slice of jerky when he was short on cores.
"Morning, Kael," Lira greeted, her hands busy arranging jars of honey on her table. "What brings you to the market today?"
"I need provisions," Kael replied, placing his pouch of beast cores on the counter. "Something to last a few days."
Lira nodded and began gathering items a small bundle of dried venison, a handful of preserved berries, and a small loaf of dense bread. "This should do you well," she said, placing the goods on the counter. "Five Tier 1 Common Cores."
Kael counted out the cores and handed them over, feeling the familiar sting of parting with his limited resources. Every core spent was a step closer to scarcity, a reminder that the world's system, for all its promises of growth and power, didn't account for the harsh realities of daily life.
"Thanks, Lira," he said, tucking the provisions into his pack.
"Stay safe out there," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. "I hear the Scared Realm trials are coming up soon."
Kael nodded but said nothing, the weight of the trials pressing heavier on his shoulders with each passing day.
As he wandered through the market, Kael observed the intricate dance of trade. Merchants haggled with customers, their voices rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence. Children darted between stalls, their laughter ringing out as they tried to snatch bits of fruit when no one was looking. Traders from neighboring villages displayed exotic goods—spices from the southern deserts, silk from the eastern plains, and rare artifacts that shimmered like captured starlight.
Kael paused at a stall selling weapons. The blacksmith, a burly man named Oren, was demonstrating the sharpness of a newly forged dagger to an eager buyer. Kael's own spear, while serviceable, was far from ideal. He had been saving for months to afford a better weapon, but even the simplest blade on Oren's table cost more than he had.
"Looking for something, lad?" Oren's booming voice jolted Kael from his thoughts.
Kael hesitated, then shook his head. "Just browsing."
Oren grunted, his sharp eyes flicking to the spear strapped to Kael's back. "That stick of yours won't do you much good in the Scared Realm. You'll need something sturdier."
Kael nodded, knowing the blacksmith was right. But weapons cost Tier 2 Enhanced Cores, sometimes even Tier 3 Mythic Cores, and Kael's meager earnings from odd jobs around the village wouldn't stretch that far.
"Come back when you're ready to invest," Oren said, turning back to his customer. "A good weapon's worth every core."
Kael continued through the market, reflecting on the economic system that governed this world. Unlike the world he had once known if he could even trust his fragmented memories this realm lacked centralized banks or formalized trade guilds. Instead, the economy was driven by direct barter, beast cores, and the ever-present influence of the system itself.
The system, with its glowing interface and endless potential for growth, acted as both guide and overseer. It rewarded initiates like Kael with resources and skills for completing quests and defeating enemies, but it also created a dependency. Without the system's support, even the strongest could falter. And for those like Kael, who lacked the wealth to buy powerful weapons or rare resources, the system's rewards were a lifeline.
Quests often came with rewards beast cores, rare materials, or trade goods but they were dangerous, requiring skill and courage. Kael had completed a few minor quests, like hunting wild boars or gathering medicinal herbs, but the rewards were barely enough to sustain him. He knew that to truly thrive, he would have to take on riskier challenges quests that pushed him closer to the edge of the Abyss.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Kael found himself drawn to the edge of the market, where a group of travelers had set up camp. They were dressed in armor and cloaks, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. These were adventurers seasoned warriors and mages who made their living by completing high-risk, high-reward quests. Their pouches of beast cores jingled heavily as they traded rare loot for supplies.
Kael couldn't help but envy them. They represented what he aspired to become strong, resourceful, and free. But he also knew the cost of that freedom. Adventurers lived perilous lives, constantly walking the line between glory and death. And for those with Abyssal Affinity like Kael, the stakes were even higher.
"Dreaming of joining them, are you?" a voice said behind him.
Kael turned to see Mareth, his fellow initiate, leaning casually against a post. His sharp features were lit with amusement, and his ever-present smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Maybe," Kael admitted. "They seem to have it figured out."
Mareth chuckled. "Figured out? Half of them won't live to see their next payday. But I get it. You want more than this little village has to offer."
Kael didn't respond, but Mareth's words struck a chord. The village had been a refuge, a place to start over. But it wasn't enough. Not for someone like him.
Kael nodded, watching as the adventurers packed up their camp and prepared to move on. He clutched his pouch tightly, the weight of the beast cores inside feeling heavier than ever.
This world ran on cores and survival. To navigate it, Kael would need both—and more. He would need courage, cunning, and the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead.