Chapter 2: The Origin of the Masked Merchant
A dimly lit hallway stretched before the masked man, the wooden floorboards creaking softly beneath his measured steps. Flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows along the stone walls, making the narrow passage feel like a tunnel through time itself.
At the end of the corridor stood a grand oak door, carved with intricate patterns of arcane symbols. With a quiet exhale, he pushed it open.
The room beyond was vast—an elegant library lined with towering bookshelves, each filled with ancient tomes bound in leather and gold. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting a warm glow over the antique furniture. A mahogany desk sat at the center, neatly arranged with ink, parchment, and a single open diary.
The masked man strode inside and settled into the high-backed chair, sighing as he picked up the quill.
For several moments, he wrote in silence, the scratching of the pen the only sound in the room. Then, as if finished with his thoughts, he set the quill down, closed the book, and leaned back.
Slowly, he reached for his mask and removed it.
A youthful yet sharp face was revealed—pale as moonlight, with raven-black hair that framed his chiseled features. His emerald eyes shimmered with intelligence, yet they carried an unsettling stillness, like a man who had long outgrown fear.
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
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POV: Silas (Sebastian Blake)
My name was Sebastian Blake. At least, that was the name I held in my past life.
I used to be a simple university student, an aspiring novelist who spent his days crafting stories of grand worlds and impossible adventures. My favorite genre? Isekai. The idea of waking up in a new world, of gaining power and defying fate, fascinated me.
Ironically, that fantasy became my reality.
One night, after writing the final chapter of my latest novel, I collapsed into bed, exhausted but satisfied. Yet when I awoke, I was no longer in my room.
The air smelled different. The bed felt different. The weight of my own body felt… unnatural.
I hurried to a mirror and found a stranger staring back at me—a tall, lean man with piercing emerald eyes and an air of noble refinement. A body that was not my own.
Memories flooded in.
I had reincarnated as Silas, one of the characters from my novel.
And my new home?
Gotham City.
Not the neon-lit Gotham of modern times, but an older, grittier version—where Bruce Wayne had disappeared on his journey of self-discovery, and the explosion at S.T.A.R. Labs had only recently made headlines. The world was on the verge of becoming what I had read about, but most of its legends had yet to rise.
I had arrived at the perfect time.
Then, something else happened.
While exploring my surroundings, I descended to the lower level of my new home—only to discover a shop.
The moment I stepped inside, a blue window materialized before my eyes.
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[System Notification]
[Welcome, User. I am the Merchant System.]
[Your duty is to manage this shop and sell items to customers.]
[More details available in the system description.]
---
I was stunned. A system?
As I read further, I realized that this wasn't just any system—this was a shop that could sell items, skills, and abilities from different worlds.
From martial arts scrolls to enchanted relics, from elixirs of immortality to raw superpowers, everything had a price.
And the currency?
Real-world money.
Just like an in-game store, I could purchase items using cash—or through a gacha system. Customers could try their luck and roll for a random prize, with rarer abilities requiring larger payments.
It was a perfect business model.
But there was a problem.
I had no money.
However, my luck hadn't run out. Because I soon discovered something else.
I wasn't just reborn as Silas.
I had inherited his power.
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The Power of Silas
Silas was no ordinary man.
In the world of my novel, he was a High Human—a superior evolution of humanity. While humans were fragile, limited by their mortal constraints, High Humans represented perfection. They lived longer, possessed greater potential, and could wield magic beyond normal comprehension.
But Silas was an anomaly even among them.
His abilities stemmed from the deepest arcane arts, granting him mastery over forces that few dared to control.
Silas' Abilities:
Shadowcraft: The ability to manipulate and travel through shadows, turning them into weapons, armor, or even portals.
Illusions & Mind Arts: He could create realistic illusions, read thoughts, and plant suggestions into weak minds.
Elemental Mastery: He wielded dark flame magic, ice magic, and storm magic.
Teleportation & Spatial Manipulation: He could bend space, create doorways, and displace objects or people at will.
Necromancy & Soul Arts: He could communicate with spirits, bind souls, and even extract the life force of others.
Magic Swordsmanship: He was a master of enchanted weaponry, able to infuse his blades with devastating arcane power.
And his strongest ability?
Partial Time Control:
Silas could manipulate time on a planetary level, but with severe limitations.
He could slow time for a few seconds, allowing him to react at impossible speeds.
He could briefly rewind minor events—such as avoiding a bullet or undoing a small mistake.
But full time-stop or large-scale rewinds required a massive energy cost and left him vulnerable.
It was a double-edged sword.
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Back to Reality
With these powers at my disposal, I no longer feared Gotham.
Corrupt politicians? Gangsters? Assassins? They were mere obstacles in my path.
But I wasn't a fool.
I had no desire to be a hero. Nor did I wish to become a reckless villain who sought mindless destruction.
I was a businessman.
And in Gotham, power was the ultimate currency.
---
Present Day – The Merchant's Study
Silas opened his eyes.
The candlelight flickered in his emerald irises, reflecting the ambition that burned within him.
He reached for his mask and slowly placed it back on his face.
The time for reflection had passed. His shop was open, and his customers would come.
Whether they were desperate men seeking salvation or monsters searching for greater power—it did not matter.
As long as they could pay the price.
Silas rose from his chair and strode toward the shadows.
And just like that—
He vanished.
To be continued...